Where Can I Find Jesus?

               This summer, over a three week period, I traveled all over the country.  As a daily communicant, I found Jesus in a plethora of sacred and beautiful places.  In my journeys, I encountered the “One Holy, catholic and apostolate church” in all of its diversity and variety and yet it’s consistency.

               In Los Angeles, I joined the more the 70 daily worshipers at the 6:30 am mass at St. Justine Martyr Church.  It is the closest church to Disneyland!  The parishioners who attend this mass greet each other with love before and after mass.

               On our way to the airport for an overnight flight, we stopped at St. Anthony of Padua in Long Beach.  The mosaic artwork was striking in this place of worship.  Father Jose gave a beautiful homily and from what I could gather, the church has claimed a four or five square block area of Long Beach and provides services for the elderly, poor, unemployed and other wise needy.

               Back at my home base of St. Bernadette in Silver Spring, I gave thanks to God for this wonderful parish and the excellent music.  My second “home” parish is St. Michael's and I appreciate the simplicity of this church and its beautiful statue of St. Michael.  The statue reminds me that we are not alone on this earth.

               My third home parish is the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception on the grounds of Catholic University.  It is across the street from one of my clients and I am often able to go to their 8 am mass in the Crypt Church.  Surrounded by beautiful stone work and dozens of images of Mary, the Mother of God, it is always a treat to celebrate the Eucharist in “Mary’s House”.

               I also attend the 9:30 mass at St. John the Evangelist and spent time after in their perpetual adoration chapel.  It is a modest chapel, but Jesus is there just the same!

               In Saint Louis, I worshiped at St. Monica’s in a St. Louis suburb.  I happened to be there for the mass that opened the school year for the teachers.  It is another warm and welcoming community.

               A real treat was the opportunity to attend mass at the Basilica Cathedral of St. Louis.  This is the “new” cathedral which is over 100 years old.  The ceilings and chapels are a feast of mosaic work illustrating events from the Bible.  My favorite is one that shows Jesus, newly risen with Mary Magdalene falling to her knees without stretched arms shouting “raboni”.  Well, I couldn’t hear words, but the art clearly detailed this event.

               While I didn’t attend mass at St. Cronan in downtown Saint Louis, we had a tour of this modest church that began as a barn!

               While in New Jersey, at the Catholic Writers Conference, I had the pleasure of attending mass celebrated by well known priests Fr. Andrew Apostole and Father Donald Calloway. Mass in a hotel ballroom is always a little awkward, but the Eucharist is there!

               Finally, at home on Sunday, I celebrated mass with my Third Order Dominican Community at the Dominican House of Studies.  The chapel has the feel of an old world chapel.

               Three weeks, ten different churches and yet I am able to celebrate the same mass in every place.  Each place celebrates the same liturgy.  And in every place, I can find Jesus!

A Birthday Reflection

               Today, I turn 56 years old.  I shake my head and wonder how it can be that my life is advancing so quickly.  Last year, turning 55 felt shocking as it seemed like I had just turned 50 and that meant that I would be 60 before I knew it.  So how have I changed in the past year?

               Slowing the pace of the day – Although the weeks and months continue to fly by at a rapid pace, I find pleasure and joy in the average moments of each day.  Whether it is a conversation with my husband, something my son tells me, a few minutes catching up with a friend or time to ponder a prayer from the mass or office, I find myself appreciating these everyday encounters.  And while I still enjoy looking forward to celebration of big holidays and vacations, I am finding more joy in daily life.

               Wanting less and feeling like I have more – This past year has brought to me an urgency to simplify my life by divesting myself of so much of the “stuff” that we have accumulated.  Even before we made the decision to move, I wanted to sell the large house we own and find a smaller place to live.  That will now happen as we make the move to Missouri in 2015.  Now, I am finding that I want to fill that empty guest room.  We have the space, so how can we share the space with others?

               Accepting the inevitability of aging – Rather than aggressively combating the aging process, I’m happy to find peace in it.  I desire to take better care of my body and to be active.  That occasional nagging in my knee or ache in my hands helps to remind me that this is not my true home.

               Carpe Diem – Finding new adventures and taking risks is a surprising twist in this middle aged life.  I expected things to be fairly routine and perhaps boring in my 50s.  Instead, I find that God has me filling my brain with philosophy and theology that I missed in my formal education.  He has me stretching out my hands in ways that I would not have imagined a few years ago.  Seizing the day is the routine activity!

               In my 56^th year, I have found peace and growth, both due to my increased love for God.  Through His sacraments, especially Eucharist and Confession, I find that the Holy Spirit is able to guide me and that I am more willing to follow His precepts. Pope Francis recently remarked that the Sacraments are not magic, but frequent reception of communion and use of reconciliation has incrementally changed me into a woman who cannot live without God.

              

               What more could I asked on my 56^th birthday?

"Stretch out your hand"

              Congress is considering significant cuts in the food stamp program.  Our bishops and many Catholic social service organizations, including Catholic Charities and St. Vincent de Paul are urging Congress to leave the program intact.  Although I understand the reasoning for the need for food stamps, my conservative political view balks at the basic tenants of the program and my Christian world view balks at designating the government as the primary provider for the poor.

               It is my impression that the food stamp program is bureaucratic, expensive, devoid of human dignity and riddled with fraud.  Having spent most of my professional life in the non-profit world, I find it difficult to support this enormous program when those federal dollars could be much more effectively by local hunger groups who would deliver food in a caring, human environment.  Many of these groups are secular, but many are faith based. 

               The monthly food card provides temporary nourishment for the body.  Food received from a food bank also provides nourishment and the human touch.  As an example, Meals on Wheels provides that temporary nourishment along with human contact.  For many seniors, the highlight of their day is the person who brings the food. 

               And then there are the faith based organizations that provide food, clothing and shelter, accompanied by the loving and saving words of Jesus.  Catholic Charities in DC now has a program called “A Cup of Joe” that provides breakfast in DC and it is served by volunteers who can look the recipients in the eye and greet them as a son or daughter of God.

               What is lacking in these options is the individual who reaches out and does the corporeal works of mercy in his or her neighborhood or community. As a society, even Christians have become so used to giving money to organizations, or depending on government to provide for the poor that we are no longer directly involved in the corporal works of mercy. 

               In the Psalms, there are numerous references to “stretching out our hands” to God. Recently the daily Gospel reading was from Luke 6:6-11.  In it Jesus cures a man by asking him to “stretch out your hand”.  Saint Ambrose in his Commentary on Luke writes: “Stretch out your hand often by doing favours for your neighbor, by protecting from harm one who suffers under the weight of calumny; stretch out your hand to the poor man who begs from you; stretch out your hand to the Lord, asking for pardon for your sins.  This is how you stretch out your hand, and this is how you will be cured.”

               How often do I stretch out my hands?  If more people stretched out there hands to the local poor, how much better would our communities thrive? How will God look upon my activity, or lack of it, with the poor on judgment day?

               

Angels at Work

               It was a delightful early fall day twelve year ago as I walked into my office on I Street NW in Washington D.C.  I arrived early to get a jump on a new project.  I had only been working a few minutes when the PR manager came into my office to tell me that a plane had flown into the World Trade Center. 

               “How the hell did that happen,” was my response.  We watched the replays on the TV.  I remember Katie Couric’s shaking voice trying to sort out what happened. And then we saw another plane hit the other tower.  I shook my head and went back to my office, knowing that I would have plenty of time to hear what was happening that night on the news. 

               As a working mom, I didn’t have a lot of flexibility in my day.  I focused on the work that I had to finish. About 45 minutes later, the organizations’ director asked all employees to come into the conference room.  She told us about the plane that crashed into the Pentagon and that all planes were being grounded immediately.  She asked us all of get our personal things and leave the building.  We were to call to our manger when we arrived safely home.

               Cell phones were not working, so used the office phone to call my husband before I left and told him that I was headed home.  Then I called my sister, who worked about six blocks away and told her I would call her when I got home.  She was going to be in the office longer, so she said she would call our mom to let her know of the plans.

               Although the Metro line were running underground out to Maryland, I knew that getting trapped underground with be hell on earth for me, so I opted to walk up Rhode Island Avenue to the first Metro stop that was above ground.  About three blocks into my walk, I heard a woman screaming and weeping.  She was yelling into her phone, one of the towers collapsed and now people are jumping out of the building.

               “Oh dear God, please be with them,” was my prayer.  And as I walked, I had a sudden sense that the people who died that day did not die alone.  I had this image in my mind of the sky being filled with a brilliant light brought by thousands and thousands of angels who were mightily at work that day.  As people jumped there were securely caught by angels who accompanied them, body and soul to the ground and then flew with their souls to the next world.

               I don’t know what the Catholic Church specifically teaches about death and angels, but those images comforted me on that day.  I have the firm convection that as we transition from this life to the next, whether in a sudden, violent death or in one that takes weeks or months, we will not be alone.

               I haven’t ever watched the film footage of people jumping out of that building on that tragic day. In fact, I have not watched footage from that day for years.  I am thankful for the gift of supernatural hope that in death we are accompanied by angelic friends.

The Gift of Labor

               Three years ago, a job was one of those things that was a given in life.  My husband had been employed for over 20 years with the same company. I had full time employment for most of my life, except when I decided to move from Detroit to Washington DC and that time of unemployment was short, perhaps three weeks. My relationship with work was related to my paycheck.  Now, my relationship with work is primarily related to dignity and fulfillment.

               On the first work day of January 2011, the CEO of my husband’s company announced that he was reorganizing the company and eliminated my husband’s department.  It was a shock.  After spending 20 years with the same company, the challenge was that ALL of his contacts were inside the company.  And so over the next 32 months, began to build a network of individuals and pursued a job.  He was employed for a short period, but for the most part, looked for work.

               It was difficult for us, for our family, for our finances, and for his dignity.  He is employed on this Labor Day.  At Mass this morning, Fr. Clint McDonell talked about how work is a gift and a way for us to sanctify our lives.  How much more I understand this idea of gift, than before his unemployment.  How much more careful we are of how we spend our gifts.  Not just careful with money, but also with our time and our talents.

               We receive many gifts during this time.  We have learned to be creative in giving Christmas and birthday gifts, to read books from the library and watch vintage movies on TV.  We better understand what others experience when they don’t have work.  We also have found great joy in volunteering.  We have decided to down size our home so that we will have more to give to others now, and when we retire.  And we want our work, whether employment or volunteer to further the kingdom of God.

               How the concluding prayer at Mass today resonated with me:

             “Having been made partakers of this table of unity and charity, we beseech your mercy, Lord, that through the work you have given us to do we may sustain our life on Earth and trustingly build up your Kingdom.”

Enjoy this day of rest!

An Unexpected Retreat

               Thursday night, as I was waiting for my son to finish football practice, I felt beat.  It had a very busy week filled with a variety of activities that had drained my body and my mind.  I was try to figure out where I was going to mass the next day, as I had to drop my son off such that it conflicted with my usual churches for daily mass.  St. Dominic’s came to mind. 

               St. Dominic’s church building is nearly 100 years old and it is located in SW DC near a variety of office buildings and it has a mid-day mass geared to working people.  The inside is so different than the “modern” churches built in the mid-20^th century in the suburbs.  I didn’t think twice about where I would go, but had to determine whether to drive or metro.

               While I was dropping my son off at school on Friday morning, I had the sudden urge to find a quiet place to pray.  I realized that St. Jerome’s church was just a few blocks away.  I parked and entered the church lobby, only to stop and smell – incense!  Well, that could mean a funeral, although the parking lot was pretty empty, or adoration!

               Yes, as it happens, they have adoration every Friday morning.  I knelt in reverence to our Lord and was just kneeling in the pew when the priest came into the sanctuary and kneeled.  As it happens, they pray the Litany of the Sacred Heart and the Miraculous Medal prayers at the time I arrived.  And I happily joined the dozen or so who were gathered.

               It got even better, at the end of the prayer time, we had the opportunity to venerate a relic of St. Rose of Lima, who feast was celebrated that day.  After all of the activity, I was able to settle into the quiet and spend time with our Lord in contemplation.

               Getting into my car, I decided to drive to the Shrine of the Immaculate Conception, park and walk to the Brookland Metro Station.  That would allow me to stop in the Shrine on the way back to my car.  The mass at St. Dominic’s was so peaceful.  It was attended by at least 50 people.  I love the way the cross, with Mary on one side and John on the other, is hung so close to the pews.  After mass, I was able to venerate a relic of St. Jude’s!  And then went to his chapel to pray.

               Walking back from the Metro, I ran into a friend who is a Dominican Brother and was able to catch up on this summer activities.  I spent time in the chapels in the upper church and then drove home.

               What a beautifully, unexpected retreat!  I don’t think it could have been better if I planned it.  Well, perhaps it was planned by our Lord. After all, He was waiting for me in all of those places!  

Be Still!

               It has been a whirlwind of a month for my family and me.  On July 22^nd, we left for a vacation in California and spent too many hours on LA freeways.  Three days after returning home, 2-a-day football practice began and my brother came for a visit with his family. Less than 48 hours after they left, I drove four hours to the Catholic Writers Conference in New Jersey while my husband packed his belongings and my son working on his summer reading and practiced more football.  Arriving home, I unpacked and repacked and drove twelve hours with my husband to St. Louis, where he began his new job after getting him settled, visiting our new city and meeting his new co-workers, I flew home.  This past Monday was the first “normal” day for me in four weeks.

               And I found myself driving my cat to the veterinarian at Noon on Monday.  The last time I had her at the vet, I was there for two and a half hours.  I was hopeful that I could be in and out in less than an hour.  I did go prepared.  Before I left the house, I perused the stack of books that I acquired at the Catholic Writers Conference and brought one of them with me to the appointment.

               I sigh with relief as I approached the waiting area, it was empty. I checked in only to learn that all of the appointment rooms were full, but was assured it would just be a few minutes before we were settled in a room.  I pulled out the proof copy of Teresa Tomeo’s new book, “God’ Bucket List”. It will be published in November.   I read the opening chapter and then looked at my watch.  I had been there for twenty minutes. I stood up and stretched, sat down and turned the page.

               Just a few moments later, Paws (my cat) and I were ushered into the examination room.  Paws tried to get comfortable on the stainless steel counter and I sat on the bench, more than slightly irritated.  “Be Still” was the title of the chapter I was reading.  I finished it, looked at my watch and sighed.

               I had just read about the need to find quiet time with God in the midst of crazy scheduled.  I pick up Paws from the sterile, cold counter and put her on my lap as I reached for my rosary.  I closed my eyes, crossed myself and began to pray.  I could feel Paws purring as I fingered the beads in one hand and stroked her with the other. Moving from one joyful mystery to the next, I felt the tension leave my body. As I was finishing the Salve Regina, the door opened and the vet entered.

               What a difference that prayer time made in my demeanor toward the vet. Paws was also relaxed and was more cooperative than normal.  The check up didn’t take long and soon she was back in her carrier, and we were heading back to the car.  I check my watch and it had taken an hour and twenty minutes for the visit.  I was behind my crazy, Type A schedule, yet the prayer time kept me balanced.  Perhaps I should put “Be Still” on the background of my phone!