Olivia Jansen; not to be forgotten

In the early morning, just before sunrise in the Wild Basin Mountains, our (wife, daughter, mine) phones sounded off at a trailhead just as we entered the back country about to lose cell service.  An Amber Alert!  In the Kansas City area, three-year-old Olivia Jansen was abducted from her home sometime during the night.  Her dad discovered the back door to the house ajar.  He reported Olivia missing early that morning.  Olivia’s mother was not present.  She was in jail for a hit and run incident.

            Returning to civilization late in the day, my daughter looked into updates of Olivia’s search.  She remained missing.

             Later, my daughter acquired a picture of Olivia online.  She told me Olivia was cute.  Of course, I thought, ALL three-year-olds are beautiful!  I silently prayed she’d be found quickly and safe.

The next day, while driving along I-70 headed for home, my daughter informed me.  The little girl’s body was located less than a mile from her home next to a trail.  Olivia’s dad with her name tattooed on his forehead was held in custody along with his girlfriend for killing his little girl and desecrating her corpse. 

The car radio played.  Miles disappeared in the review mirror.  Silently, I recalled my daughter at age three catching fireflies and releasing them in her bedroom so that they would “sparkle like stars on the ceiling!”  Popping out at hide-n-seek so that we wouldn’t think she was lost.  Playing bounce tag on the trampoline.  Taking lessons so she could swim like a fish at the Pointe in the evening.  Running a million miles an hour packing the most into each day, she’d crash with exhaustion at night before I could even begin to read her a story.  I wondered.  Was Olivia like that?  Why should I care?  To me, all children are my children.

I maneuvered into the Holiday Inn Express on the western outskirts of Salina, Kansas.

I threw my bag in the room.  Left my wife and daughter behind and wandered onto the gravel exit road.  I walked past a no-vacancy KOA campground.  The dead-end gravel transitioned to a narrow dirt road separating fields of corn and wheat stubble.

I was in my country.  Throughout my youth, I’d reflect upon my day, develop future plans, consider new ideas as I walked dirt roads through the fields.  The sun hung low over a golden field of freshly harvested wheat. Heat curled leaves of corn only two feet high due to lack of rain.  Sweat rolled over my brow.   

My mind wrestled all day.  I’m generally an optimistic individual, but as I walked into the sunset along this dirt road, I didn’t doubt the existence of God.  There was no God!

I considered my fair-weather relationship with God.  When things are going well, God is good.  When things grow dark, God is not in the cards.

What’s eating me?  I feel it working to surface as I walk further into the countryside.  I try to focus my mind, but am having difficulty doing so.  Random thoughts emerge.  People perform acts of kindness for the less fortunate.  Why is it that so many think it’s okay to help those in need, except when it comes at a personal cost to themselves?

A young bride dies eight months into her marriage from spinal cancer leaving her child and husband behind.

            A ten-year-old boy is killed in a hit and run while riding his bicycle.

            An innocent forty-year-old father of five is indiscriminately shot and killed in a drive-by shooting.

            A young girl suffers a spinal injury resulting in paralysis below the neck.

            Finally, it emerges.  A three-year-old girl is killed by her father. 

A beautiful,

amazing

three-year-old girl!

I live much of life as a fraudulent believer.

What the hell?

I hear my sandals slap the baked, packed soil.  A hot, arid breeze teases me to keep walking.  Tonight, I’d deliver the death penalty to Olivia’s father and his girlfriend.  As I talked that off my chest, anger invaded.  I thought I was prolife, but not tonight.   

They desecrated her fragile, defenseless body.  How’d she die?  Asphyxiation, poisoning, blow to the head?  The police reported torture.  She had to struggle.  The more I wanted to be judge and jury, anger opened to fear.  Despair consumed fear, regurgitated helplessness, hopelessness.

Where was He? God?

Out of control, I had trouble breathing.  There was no peace, no hope in these fields.

My mind’s eye, the one a Literature teacher had spoken of, zeroed in on Olivia.  Staring into a dusty sunset, I saw a little three-year-old girl plunging into the depths of water.  I saw terror, betrayal in her eyes.  Forgotten, discarded, alone.  She was sinking, drowning, fighting to hold her last breath.   

Suddenly, instantly, the little three-year-old girl became my daughter.  I saw fear and excitement in her eyes.  She’d just jumped off the diving board.  Her miniature arms and legs cycled into an underwater dog paddle.  I saw my hands quickly reach into the depths of the water, squeeze her ribs, and lift my beautiful girl up and over my head!  Frantically wiping her face of water, she laughed!  I laughed, hugging her tightly, singing her praises on her first successful jump off the board!  Too jubilant for words, we laughed more together! 

Abruptly, my vision shifted again back to Olivia.  Her tiny body falling deeper and deeper into the depths, light from her eyes fading away.  And then….  Hands, unknown to me, squeezed Olivia’s fragile ribcage and lifted her with unimaginable force out of the depths thrusting her above the water!   Olivia coughed, frantically wiping the water from her face.  She captured the eyes of the Father.  My Spirit’s eye recognized the hands of the Almighty.  I burst into tears, crying alone on a dirt road in the middle of fields intensely struggling to keep from hyperventilating.  I could see a beautiful three-year-old laugh in the sunset over the fields.  My anger and despair, too, lifted away.  Tears continued but I began to breathe easier.  I felt hope despite the sun falling below the horizon.  Peace settled upon these fields.
  
"Let the children come to me.  Do not hinder them.  The kingdom of God belongs to such as these."  Jesus placed his hands on them in prayer.  Mt. 19:14-15.

*60 children in the St. Louis area have been the victims of violence: 20 resulting in homicide.

These are our children!

Do Not Be Afraid

I feel like my blog titles are stuck on repeat recently.  Since we seem to be grinding slowly, and even moving backwards, in the quagmire that is Covid mentality, then I feel justified in repeating some statements.  In April, I offered "Be Not Afraid".  So today I offer a new, and still familiar "Do Not Be Afraid".

In May I wrote a detailed and lengthy email and sent it to various priests who were members of the re-opening committees throughout our parish, and also the overall archdiocese.  I probably seemed overly insensitive, but in part, my statement opened with:

"From my spiritual leaders, I would hope that their greatest concern is for the state of my immortal soul, and the souls of all members of their flock...  From religious leaders, we should want and expect concern for the well being of our spirituality FIRST AND FOREMOST, and possibly even in contradiction to our health, if those choices face off against each other."

But I will save you from the long-winded writings of a nobody.  I'm just a (potentially) crazy dad who, more and more, feels misplaced in the world.  The more I turn to scriptures, the more I feel the world is drifting, nay sprinting, further away from advice given through the Word.

Instead I offer this link, and the more competent writings of a self-proclaimed "physician of souls."  Attached please find a fairly quick read from Msgr. Charles Pope from earlier this month, in the National Catholic Register (through EWTN):

"Coronavirus Stalks in the Darkness, But Do Not Be Afraid"

I will end as I ended my email from May:

"If my physical body dies today, but upon death I am united with Christ in heaven, then all was a success!  If my physical body avoids infection, and I prolong life on earth for another day, or decades more, but I am denied the source and summit of our faith that brings grace, (and also the real fellowship of the full Body of Christ on Earth), then was health worth the cost?"

"I do, as always, continue to pray that the Holy Spirit guides your judgement towards God's Will, first and foremost."

written by:  Matt Buehrig

inspired by:  My Wife, who searches for TRUTH above all else, and does not allow fear to hold her...not through the years our daughter battled cancer...not through the deaths of family members...not through everyday crisis that surround us.

Don't try to fix the problem, let the problem fix you.

There comes a time in every man’s life where his focus begins to shift.  What used to be plans and dreams of the future, transitions to looking back with nostalgia on the way things used to be.  I think I might be getting there.  I’m not fifty yet, but watching my oldest children start their adult lives has me thinking about when I left the nest and started my own little nuclear unit.  Everything felt like anticipation.  "I can’t wait until we get married."  "Just imagine what it will be like when we get out of this crappy apartment and have a house, with a yard full of little kids!"  It’s an exciting time, but it's not easy.  Relatively quickly, you discover that not all of your plans come to fruition.  It’s hard to find a job that provides for your family.  Your kids get sick.  That yard you dreamed about needs to be mowed again, and your soul mate snores like a drunk Viking.  

Lisa and I spent a lot of time and energy trying to protect our kids so they didn’t feel the stress or loneliness that we felt growing up.  The truth of the matter is, no matter how hard we tried, once they got out there, life found them.  Trying to start a career, a family, and a first home sounds like the American dream, but what do you tell your kid when his dream job is frustrating and stressful?   What can I do as I watch the romance of finding a home turn into gut wrenching rejection of offer after offer?  How do you console a daughter who lost the baby she announced to the family was due Christmas Eve?  I remember when I could fix my kid’s problems.  They saw me as a superhero who could fix anything.  There was nothing I couldn’t take care of.  But my kids are grown now, and the struggles they are facing are bigger than me. 

Hardships continue to come at our family and as tempting as it is for Lisa and I to try and shield ourselves and the kids from it, we had to learn to trust that everything is going to be ok.  As we watch them begin, stumble, and begin again, we have to remember that they have something that we didn’t when we started out.  They have a relationship with Christ and His church.  Having a strong faith life doesn’t keep the storms from coming, but it does create a port for you to tie onto as you wait for it to pass.  You recognize that your life isn’t about you and what you want.  That you are being led.  It takes trust and patience, but the one you are following has a better plan for you than you do.  My kids know that, so as hard as things get, they don’t have the same fear that Lisa and I battled with most of our lives.  That fear might have gotten us far in the world, but looking back, we spent a large portion of our journey fighting and kicking, rather than being held and guided. 

A good friend of mine last week confided in me that his son came out to him as being gay.  I hear him tearfully explain how all the things he worked for and envisioned for his family and legacy, are now gone.  I know that fear.  We all have a movie in our minds of how our life is supposed to go.  The problem is, it never really works out the way we plan it.  No matter how hard we try, there are somethings that will always be outside of our control.  Real joy and peace comes when we build a relationship with the one who is, and trust and follow Him.  My prayers for my family have slowly changed over the years.  I no longer ask for things to work out the way I think they should, I pray for them to work out the way He thinks they should, and for Him to grant me the wisdom to recognize that and embrace it.    

Pay the Price

"They paid the ultimate price". This is a common phrase this time of year as we celebrate our country's independence and commemorate the values that distinguish us as Americans. One such value is that of sacrifice. When I hear a story about a soldier bravely facing enemy fire to advance to an objective or rescue a fallen comrade, I often find myself holding back a tear. Sacrifice is beautiful.

"Freedom isn't free". We recognize that sacrifice is what purchased our freedom as Americans. Every time we enjoy a barbecue with friends, take a road trip to visit family, or attend Mass on Sunday, we are engaging in an activity that was made possible by others offering themselves up for our sake. Surrounded by so many goods that were purchased by the selfless offerings, living in a country where we are enamored by stories of self-sacrifice, we have to ask ourselves: what are we willing to give?

In order to attain true freedom, we not only be willing to give our lives, but we must offer up our entire beings in a spirit of generosity and love. St. Teresa of Avila, a 16th century mystic and Doctor of the Church, spoke plainly about the need to suffer and to do so with the proper attitude. While she had no formal education, St. Teresa wrote eloquently about what it takes to find peace thorough union with God in prayer. A key component of our ascent to God is the need to take up our cross.

In his 1989 book Fire within: St. Teresa of Avila, St. John of the Cross, and the Gospel - on prayer, Fr. Thomas Dubay S.M. nicely summarizes St. Teresa's teaching on suffering when he explains that "[resignation] is not enough; there must be a generous willed welcome to hardships and dryness in prayer"(1). This attitude towards suffering is exemplified in elite military units. The Army Rangers, Delta Force, and most notably, the Navy Seals all draw men who not only put up with suffering; they seek it out. Brutal conditioning, sleep deprivation, hand to hand combat; these harsh realities are an integral part of the daily life of an elite soldier in combat. In the crucible of suffering, a soldier learns to turn his pain into fuel. His agony becomes a purifying force driving him to sacrifice all for the good of the mission and for his fellow soldiers.

St. Teresa was by no means a soldier, but her methods were no different than these elite military units. She recognized that man's mission is to find peace through union with God in prayer. In order to pray, we need to be free from worldly attachments. I suspect that most of us find ourselves in the state that St. Teresa describes as the second mansion, where we are "still engaged in worldly pastimes, half giving them up and half clinging to them"(2). We know what we need to do in order to grow in holiness and to deepen our prayer, but we find ourselves torn between the things of this world and the things of God. "The world's tug is experienced in several ways: earthly pleasures remain attractive, and they feel almost eternal. The soul finds it hard to give up esteem in the world and a selfish clinging to family and friends. It unreasonably fears doing penances to which it now feels called, and it vacillates, says Teresa, as to whether to return to the first mansions or strive bravely on"(3).

St. Teresa's solution to the pull of worldly things is maddeningly simple: man up and embrace your cross: "there is a need to 'embrace the cross' along with the suffering Lord"(4). We will not escape the world and find true freedom and peace unless we are willing to suffer. Our attitude towards suffering cannot be passive. We must learn to love to toil in the raging furnace of adversity and to seek out Our Lord as we do so.

If there is something in our life that in and of itself is good, but it keeps us from God, then we must do away with it. Does social media keep you from God? Get off of it. What about being on your phone at night? Change your phone's settings so that you can't access it past 8pm. These are simple problems and even simpler solutions. Our Blessed Lord invites us to go a step further: "if thy right eye scandalize thee, pluck it out and cast it from thee. For it is expedient for thee that one of thy members should perish, rather than that thy whole body be cast into hell"(4).

We can all agree that eyes are good things. Much like our hobbies, pastimes, and friendships, our eyes are not inherently evil. Yet, if any of these good things cause us to sin, then they must be removed from our lives with violent force. It's not enough to passively resit a temptation, we must beg for the grace to renounce sin in our lives. After we have turned to Our Lord, then we must summon every fiber of our will to do violence to our sinful impulses and inclinations. We need to learn to hate sin like a soldier learns to hate an unpolished boot, an improperly oiled gun, or a missed belt loop during an inspection. If we condition ourselves to hate sin, then our souls will be truly free to love God.

What do we get in return for our efforts? I cannot promise that they will build a statue of you. You may not live on in the hearts of men. There may be no moving stories of brave and daring feats.
Yet, if we are willing to seek pain and overcome sin in our lives, then "I reckon that the sufferings of this time are not worthy to be compared with the glory to come, that shall be revealed in us"(5).

(1) Dubay, T. (1989). Fire within: St. Teresa of Avila, St. John of the Cross, and the Gospel - on prayer (p. 84). San Francisco: Ignatius Pr.

(2) ibid p. 83

(3) ibid p. 83

(4) Matthew 5:29

(5) Romans 8:18

Trinity and a Wallet

“You were touched when you read that Christ was in the Gospels, hidden in the sacrament of the Word.  But how much more is Christ present in the sacrament of human life!  Hunt for God everywhere!  God wants to be captured with joy!  And when you have found God, give God to others.  There are people God is waiting to reach only through you.”¹   Gabrielle Bossis, French playwright & mystic

            On a beautiful morning, Trinity Sunday, a few weeks ago, I met Jay² in Holy Infant’s church lobby.  We’ve known each other for some time. 

            “I just don’t understand all of the protesting, riots, looting.  I just don’t get it.”  He referenced recent actions following the George Floyd killing. 

            We made quick dissections of systematic racism in education, healthcare, and law.  Jay shared some of his experiences from serving in the National Guard during the Vietnam War.  A few parishioners arriving early to mass interrupted our conversation.  I assumed our conversation was concluded until Jay returned.

            “I recall an interesting story,” he offered thoughtfully.

            Jay enlisted into the National Guard after graduating from college and shortly after he’d been married.  He was assigned to Fort Knox for eight weeks of basic/Advanced Individual Training between the National Guard (NG), Army Reserves (AR) and regular army (RA).  With some rivalry between them, the army majority taunted the NG recruits as ‘no good.’

            The men moved into their billets which were their living quarters.  Rather than bunk according to affiliation, they seemed to somewhat naturally segregate themselves by black and white, roughly a 60% to 40% split.  One often felt tension between them.

            One night after training, Jay returned from his shower to find his wallet had been taken.  Though it contained little money, it held his license, military card, and most importantly, a picture of his wife along with a lock of her hair tied with a short ribbon.  Initially, he appealed to the white group with whom he resided, but nobody knew anything about his wallet.  Jay thought for a moment, ‘why ask the other guys?  They’re younger, loud, always partying.  They’ll deny knowing anything and make me the object of their jokes.’  Eventually, Jay did question the group of black soldiers razzing one another and showing no interest in his wallet. Figuring the loss was his responsibility, Jay didn’t report his wallet missing, nor did he speak of it again.  He did not want to escalate a bad situation.

            Four weeks of exercises and training ensued.  During one particular training session, men were scattered for night navigation, all equidistant from rendezvous points.  Each was given a red-filtered flashlight, a compass, and a map to located and arrive at the same rendezvous site. Both privates, Jay (white, NG) and Tom (black, RA), arrived at their rendezvous point significantly earlier than the others.  Jay hesitantly began to ask questions striking up a conversation with Tom.  Both took advantage of the time to listen to one another’s stories.    

            Four years older and married, Jay graduated from a university while Tom didn’t complete high school but planned on acquiring his GED.  Jay grew up in Iowa in a stable family with two siblings. When he and his wife married, they shared $800 between them.  Tom grew up in Harlem, NY, among eight siblings crammed into a small apartment.  At one point, his dad told Tom he could no longer afford to care for him anymore.   Tom needed to make life on his own.  Tom decided the army offered him more promising opportunities for his future.  Without money, he enlisted in the army.  Jay, a self-proclaimed ‘doughboy,’ paled to Tom’s tall, muscular stature.  The others in the barracks admired Tom while Jay found him to be intimidating.  Jay was an officer candidate while Tom headed to infantry.  Upon the night’s conclusion after briefly sharing one another’s stories, they committed to attempt to join one another’s teams over the remaining three weeks of training.    

            Jay recalled, “It was good to share one another’s life’s stories.  Tom was not the intimidating figure I thought him to be.” The brief encounter launched a new friendship between them. 

            The next morning, Jay’s wallet was on his locker.  “My wife’s picture along with her locket of hair was in it!  Everything was in it.  Nothing was missing.”

           

            Now, don’t assume for a heartbeat, that Tom took the wallet.  However, odds on grace, Tom had much to do with its return! 

I am not one to understand the Trinity and I still don’t.  But as I sat through mass that morning, I felt the Trinity blaring, “You captured me!  Let our three be revealed in the narratives of these men!”  God the Father breathed life in creating two men in ‘his own image and likeness.’ (Gn 1:26) Two men lived distinct lives.  They connected and shared with the incarnated Jesus deeply embedded within them.  “I (Jesus) am in my Father, and you in me, and I in you.” (Jn 14:20) Though worldly influences had systematically, artificially segregated these men, grace weaved through their narratives.  The Holy Spirit breathed trust in their friendship.  Perhaps, relationship is what we all should be seeking.  Shouldn’t we like Jay and Tom, wrapped in the mystery of the Trinity, seek with courage the deepest possible understanding, communion, and friendship with everyone?

Footnote:

            A few weeks later, Jay’s grandmother passed away.  In order for him to receive a pass to attend her funeral, he needed his military card.  With the required identification in hand, he was granted a three-day pass to attend her remembrance.

1.      “Give Us This Day,” June 11, 2020. 

2.     Names have been changed for the purpose of privacy.

                  

             

           

The Word Of God Breaths Genius

No commentary this time.  No personal insights or opinions.  Just scripture…a few verses I’ve been pondering of late.

Matthew 5:38-42

“You have heard that it was said, ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’  But I say to you, offer no resistance to one who is evil. When someone strikes you on [your] right cheek, turn the other one to him as well.  If anyone wants to go to law with you over your tunic, hand him your cloak as well.  Should anyone press you into service for one mile, go with him for two miles.  Give to the one who asks of you, and do not turn your back on one who wants to borrow.

Mark 11:12-14,

The next day as they were leaving Bethany he was hungry.  Seeing from a distance a fig tree in leaf, he went over to see if he could find anything on it.  When he reached it he found nothing but leaves; it was not the time for figs.  And he said to it in reply, “May no one ever eat of your fruit again!”  And his disciples heard it.  Early in the morning, as they were walking along, they saw the fig tree withered to its roots.  Peter remembered and said to him, “Rabbi, look!  The fig tree that you cursed has withered.”  Jesus said to them in reply, “Have faith in God.”

John 2:14-17

He found in the temple area those who sold oxen, sheep, and doves, as well as the money-changers seated there.  He made a whip of cords and drove them all out of the temple area, with the sheep and oxen, and spilled the coins of the money-changers and overturned their tables, and to those who sold doves he said, “Take these out of here, and stop making my Father’s house a marketplace.”  His disciples recalled the words of scripture, “Zeal for your house will consume me.”

Ephesians 3:14

For this reason I kneel before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth is named, that he may grant you in accord with the riches of his glory to be strengthened with power through his Spirit in the inner self, and that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith; that you, rooted and grounded in love, may have the strength to comprehend with all the holy ones what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, so that you may be filled with all the fullness of God.  Now to him who is able to accomplish far more than all we ask or imagine, by the power at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations, forever and ever.  Amen.

Matthew 24:10-13

And then many will be led into sin: they will betray and hate one another.  Many false prophets will arise and deceive many; and because of the increase of evildoing, the love of many will grow cold.  But the one who perseveres to the end will be saved.

Matthew 10:34
"Do not think that I have come to bring peace upon the earth.  I have come to bring not peace but the sword."

Continue to persevere.

-Matt Buehrig

Only through the Blood of Christ

Monsignor Alfred Newman Gilbey, the one-time Catholic chaplain to Cambridge University, understood this change well. He once remarked to the British philosopher Roger Scruton that “we are not led to undo the work of creation or to rectify the Fall. The duty of the Christian is not to leave the world a better place. His duty is to leave this world a better man.” Most of us may still hope that what we do will benefit those whose lives we touch, but the internal struggle is already a heavy enough task.

Gilbey knew that a large part of modern politics is anti-Christian in nature and a danger to the Church. It is not vague reforms of institutions, the family, or society that lead to salvation; it is only through the Blood of Christ. As it says boldly on the façade of the glorious Westminster Cathedral, Domine Jesu rex et redemptor per sanguinem tuum salva nos – “Lord Jesus, King and Redeemer, save us by your blood.”

There can ultimately be only rage and frustration for those who seek to build a utopia in this world. The Christian knows that, in the words of St. Augustine, “you have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it rests in you.” It is only by looking beyond this life that, even in this life, we may find some peace. The post-Enlightenment project of “rationalism” and the disparagement of the Church has not led to moral progress, particularly in my own generation, only to greater anxiety and confusion.

Christopher Ackers

from 'Moral Progress'

Is Technology Good or Bad?

As early as 1969, Del Noce warned that the “religious dimension is undermined and denied by the distinctive form of thought of the technological civilization.” 

Technology instinctively reshapes a culture toward purely practical action and results. From technology’s premise that all real knowledge is limited to the senses, Del Noce argues “it follows that the only reality that counts for man is material reality.” Thus “the diffusion of the technological mentality has been accompanied by the disappearance of the words true and false, good and bad, even beautiful and ugly.” These are replaced by words like authentic, useful, efficient, and meaningful. The human horizon constricts to the here and now. The notion that man has a transcendent dignity or purpose gradually loses the vocabulary needed for its defense. 

To the Church falls the task of forcing the questions that get people to think. Humans have a bottomless appetite for idols and marvelous skill at disguising them. We start by valuing our tools. We end up worshiping them. Modern technology is Promethean. We start with a desire to improve ourselves. We end with the illusion that we can redeem ourselves without interference from the outside. 

And yet – inconveniently for our egos – the First Commandment is first for a reason. Only God is God. In placing no strange or fabricated gods before Him, we conform ourselves to reality and acknowledge our place in that reality. This is what sane creatures do. And until we do, we have no lasting peace. The foundational question is thus not whether technology, or this or that use of it, is neutral or good or bad. The real question is: Who is man? From the answer, everything else flows.

from The Catholic Thing article 'Redeemer of Man' by Francis X. Maier

Resurrection on the Road to Emmaus

*dedicated to all of those who have lost especially loved ones during this pandemic.

During the pandemic turbulence of sensationalism, cancellations, conspiracy theories and tragic loss of life, I found myself walking the road to Emmaus, one I’ve walked before.  A stranger dressed for rain joined me.  He asked, “What’s running through your mind as you walk along?” Luke 24:13 

                  So much was running through my mind.  I didn’t know where to start.  I listened to our steps on the wet pavement.

                  “I’ve run into a few fleeing Jerusalem, headed to Emmaus, tonight,” the stranger observed.

                  “A lot of folks have scattered out of there, today.  A man named Jesus was unjustly accused, tortured, crucified and …”  Graphic images churned my stomach.  I felt despair, ashamed.

                  “And?” the stranger pried.

                  “The masses publicly humiliated him while he hung stripped of all human dignity, no clothes, no respect for his mother or the people who liked the guy.  Then they jeered mocking him to come down off the cross. To save himself like he said he would.”  Anger surged.  “Some lady shouted, ‘Lazarus raised from the dead was all smoke and mirrors!’”

                  “What happened?”

                  “At one time, Lazarus raised from the dead was good enough for me,” I professed.

“No, what happened to Jesus?”

“He just hung there and died like anybody else.  He didn’t save anybody, not even himself,” I stated feeling mislead.  Perhaps, the falling mist clearing the atmosphere would clear my mind.

The stranger offended me, casually rattling off his next statement.  “One of the thieves hanging next to your Jesus can acquit himself better than you.” I stopped aggressively searching the stranger’s eyes.  Without flinching, he stated directly, “I heard the ignorant crook recognized Jesus as the Son of God right there.  Sounds to me, you gave up hope when Jesus was crucified.”

Feeling defensive, I recoiled.  “Three days earlier, Jesus had twelve disciples when he was arrested.  The last man standing was a lone disciple Jesus asked to care for his mother.  Where were the crowds supporting him?”

Attempting to absolve myself, I reconciled. “I was at the Sermon on the Mount.  Jesus told of lifting the down-trodden, flipping the norm with gifts of the beatitudes.  (Luke 24:13-35)  He fed the hungry, cured the sick and the lame, drove out addictions, demons, forgave sins, changed water to wine, brought sight to the blind….”   

“So, if Jesus did do all those things, what are you afraid of?”

“I’m afraid of death and everything associated with it.  Fear of being rejected, of not being good enough, of losing everything, of failure, of loneliness, loss of health, friendship, my reputation, security.”  I kicked a stone on the wet pavement spraying water before us.  “Consider our vast poverty, justice to the highest bidder or slickest talker, terrorism, medical care to the wealthy, the lust of greed and power, abuse of immigrants which now includes the two of us as we scatter from Jerusalem.”  I scoffed, “I often wonder when enough is enough?”

“Sounds like this Jesus-guy entered the muck and the folks he served took it to him!”  The stranger walloped the stone bouncing it over a wooden bridge we began to cross.   “You’re telling me Jesus chose to serve in the midst of betrayal and denial, division and deceit, in the ugliness of the world on his own journey.  He’s stripped of everything; pleasures, clothing, honor, friendship; and then sentenced to death.  As he suffers, naked, he is mocked.  Why do people act so cruelly?”

“I find it interesting,” my companion continued.  “I’ve been told Jesus repeated often, ‘Do not be afraid.’”  We passed beneath a street light chasing our shadows into darkness.  “Ironic, isn’t it?  You seem to be headed into the darkness away from the light where nobody can see you.  Chance you’re wondering whether you’re headed in the right direction?”

As we climbed a hill, mere silhouettes in the darkness, I was glad to fade into night.

“I heard a teacher, say that ‘fundamentally, fear of death is at the root of all sin, of all evil, including original sin.’¹ I must admit he made a very compelling case.  Half the humans that ever lived died under the age of 5; war, horrible diseases, genocide, hunger, all assaults on humanity.²  I wonder,” the stranger asked pausing me with a tap to my shoulder, “if the Author of all life, of all creation and beauty came again, would people kill him again?”³

                  “Betrayal by an intimate friend, disciples sleeping with indifference, false testimony when witnesses speak, indifferent to the truth, denials by friends,” I recited.  “Is that me?  Am I ignorant?  Am I blind?  Do I not recognize Jesus for who he is?”

                  “Appears to me, as Jesus walked the streets of Jerusalem, all sin converged upon him.  Jesus freely carried it up the cross.  Then, he dropped a torpedo at evil’s core.  Raised on a cross of greed vs generosity, lust vs love, despair and anger vs hope and service, where Jesus entered, no one could keep him down.”

                  “Sacred and defiant!  The wicked unjust exercise of power meant to terrify the world intersected defiant love, justice, mercy, forgiveness.” Though momentarily caught in a moment of rebellion, I quickly surrendered. “For the death of His Son, God could have wiped out the world in its entirety.  But.  That is not what he promised.  It is not what Jesus lived.”

                  Another, scattered in the night, jogged past us at a distance as if we may pose a potential threat to them.

                  “He promised to rise from the dead.  Rising from the dead is unnatural,” I stated as a matter of fact.  “Death is natural.  Loss is natural.  Grief is natural.  When a human being goes into the ground, that is that. You do not wait around for the person to reappear so you can pick up where you left off.  The only place springtime happens in a cemetery is on the graves, not in them.”⁴

                  “Life is a continuum.  Why can’t rise be natural?  God planted a seed of life in us that cannot be killed.”  The stranger paused.

                  “At death, something left the earth.  The words we have are so thin.  Life, soul, the miraculous energy that drives bone and meat toward love and light, … gone.” We passed a cross street as a dog howled in the background.

                  “But not gone!  Is there a wilder, crazier, truer belief than rising?” the stranger challenged, eyes enthralled.  “And if life is miraculous opening, why cannot death be a miraculous opening also?”⁵

                  “God embraced the human condition with the birth of his Son.  Despite our muck, he still embraces us.  He rose above.  And now He’s pulling us out of our own tombs.  Love conquers the cross and will continue to do so!”

                  “You heard Jesus tell you, ‘I am going away and I will come back to you.  Do not let your hearts be troubled, trust in God and trust in me.' (John 14:28) To rise is natural, but will only become an expectation when we give mercy, provide peace, and offer forgiveness.”

                  We began to enter the light beneath another post.  The stranger paused to allow another to scurry into the distant darkness.  “This I know; Jesus is who he said he was.  He spoke and acted in the person of Christ.  He in person was/is/will continue to be the highest good.  Our sins He forgives.  He first shows his wounds – then, no vengeance but wishes us peace. He shows who is our King and what our mission should be.  How do we approach darkness?  Through service to each other we become light of the Eucharist.  Jesus’ light breaks through the darkness.  Jesus did this in the midst of darkness in the world, betrayal, deceit, trial, death.”⁶

                  The burden with which I started my walk began to lighten.

                  “Jesus’ resurrection liberates us, validates the Kingdom among us is now!  Jesus has every intention of going head to head with our false gods; Jesus does not wait until life-after-life to deal with you and me.  Get rid of the idea that the kingdom Jesus proclaimed is purely other worldly.  New life is intended to begin now; it has to do not only with where we live and how we work, what we eat and drink, but also with where our neighbor lives, especially those neighbors who would gladly feed upon the crumbs from our groaning tables.”⁷

                  “We are part of the Kingdom of God here and now!  We must commit and act to care for our world and to provide for all of creation.  We must be the forces of freedom, justice, truth, love.  We are obligated to care for the jewel of the universe, planet earth, to resist greed, to quit worshipping the false gods of greed, power, racial and economic bias, threatening egos, injustice, fame, privilege, abuse of class-neighbor-children- spouse, meanness.  Without humility, integrity, mercy, forgiveness, all lead to a fear of death … all lead to doubt in resurrection.”

                  Together under heavy mist, we enter light beneath a streetlamp.  Water dropped from the bill of the stranger’s cap.  He reached into his pocket and pulled forth a piece of crusted bread.  He broke it in two and gave half to me. 

                  The stranger opened me.  “I delivered the Kingdom.  It was not you who chose me, but I who chose you. (John 15:16)  As the Father loves me, so I also love you.  Love one another as I love you.” (John 15:9-10)

                  Overcome, I felt Metanoeo!  I felt the One walking beside me challenging me to revolutionize my way of thinking, acting, being.  Turn my thinking inside out and let my feelings and behavior follow suit.⁸

                  Before I could respond, tears welled in my eyes as he touched my face.  “Do not be afraid.  I have risen!”  Whereupon He vanished from my sight! (Luke 24:31)

                  In heavy mist, I turned to return home to Jerusalem.

                  As I age, I have tried to turn my expectations of the world more to myself.  I have been asked by many students and adults of various faiths if Catholics stand before their congregations to proclaim they’ve been saved.  My response; yes.  Every time I accept the Eucharist, I proclaim Jesus is Lord and Savior.  I also renew my efforts to give myself to Christ and all of creation that Christ is within!

                  I celebrate in thanksgiving being immersed often in the gifts of life.  I ponder life’s experiences.  From Mystery, all I know and experience came to be.  To Mystery, I will return and continue to experience.  

“We are carved of immense confusing holiness that the whole point for us is grace under duress; and that you either take a flying leap at nonsensical illogical unreasonable ideas like marriage and marathons and democracy and divinity [and resurrection], or you huddle behind a wall.  I believe that the coolest things there are cannot be measured, calibrated, gauged, weighed, or understood except sometimes by having a child patiently explain it to you, which is another thing that should happen far more often to us all.

                  In short, I believe in believing, which doesn’t make sense, which gives me hope.”⁹

"Be Good" painted by a child and placed on my path in the woods!

Don’t be distracted or diverted.  TAKE THESE TO FULL SCREEN!  Be grateful and dance for a little time!!!

Where Love is Found by Daniel Schutte    

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yAkK8FBbH6E#action=share

Join in the Dance by Daniel Schutte

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y3g39nC27dI&feature=youtu.be

Peace!

¹ Bishop Barron of Los Angeles, Good Friday online homily 2020.

² Fr. John Kavanaugh, SJ  Good Friday homily online 2011.

³ Russian author of Pride and Prejudice and philosopher, Dostoevsky, was asked this question.

⁴  Barbara Brown Taylor, author and Episcopal priest, from Give Us This Day, April 2020.

⁵  Brian Doyle, p. 61, Grace Notes, Catholic author and editor of Portland Magazine, University of Portland.  Brian recently died of brain cancer at the age of 60.

⁶  Bishop Barron online homily Easter 2020.

⁷  Will Willimon, professor Christian ministry at Duke Divinity School, retired Methodist bishop.  p. 12 Plough Quarterly, Spring 2020.

⁸  Sr. Mary M. McGlone, Sts of St. Joseph Carondelet, National Catholic Reporter, Fifth Sunday of Easter, Scripture for Life, May 9, 2020.  ‘Metanoeo’ Peter uses Greek verb evangelizing in Acts of the Apostles.

⁹  Brian Doyle, p. 57, Grace Notes.

All Are Welcome

All are welcome, all are welcome, all are welcome, in His Name.

Public masses are open today in our archdiocese.  HALLELUIAH!  For me, this is a true blessing.  This morning I saw many of the same familiar faces that I recognized from my sporadic 6am daily mass attendance over the years.

I spent the past 2 month ducking into our church, open for adoration, at many different times.  Although each visit was a treasure, only once was I lucky enough to stumble in just as one of the priests was beginning to quietly celebrate his own private mass.  Just to witness the Sacrifice was a true spiritual treasure.  He was celebrating in Latin, and the 4 years I spent in Latin class in high school failed me completely.  He was practically whispering, and he was celebrating away from me, but it was amazing to be there to witness what was undeniably the Eucharistic Celebration…regardless of how it looked and how it sounded.

It had been 2 months since I had last received the Eucharist.  After receiving and returning to my pew, I felt a growing heat all over my body.  It was not a feeling of gentle warmness.  It was not a comfortable glow inside of me.  I became warmer and more uncomfortable as I prayed.  I cannot explain what happened, but if I can be so bold as to make an analogy, it felt like a fever quickly rising in me.  Just as a fever is your body’s reaction to infection, and works to burn away all that is impure, no matter how uncomfortable, I feel as if the grace of the Sacrament may have been burning my spiritual impurities.  As I finished my prayer, the fever that had grown inside of me immediately subsided.

The Source and Summit of our faith, the Eucharist, is now open to us.  It is a true blessing that dispensation has been extended as well.  Those at most risk, or those simply uncomfortable, can rest easy, without obligation.  I pray that I am prepared to continue to face public mass.  I have no worry or concern over the virus.  I know the risks, the studies, the guidelines, and act with open eyes in ways that I must personally choose, which are best for my family.  (Bear with me.)  I DO have concern with church…with my ability to stay focused on the miracle taking place at mass.

Is that blue tape, used to block off pews, going to hold up, or fall down by weekend masses?  That old guy isn’t even wearing a mask.  He’s gotta be 85, why is he here?  Who else is here?  I think I know that guy, but he looks like Jesse James getting ready to rob a train in that bandana.  Did someone just cough?  Did the priest just cough right in the middle of consecration?  When was he supposed to wear a mask?  Who’s wearing gloves?  Did I touch the pew?  These pews really need some new wood stain.  I wonder if the antibacterial cleaner is stripping off the finish.  Is the priest going to talk about all of this in his homily?  Would it be better if he did, or didn’t?  Are we going to wave at each other during the sign of peace?  Nevermind, we’re still skipping it.

Nothing in the above paragraph has anything to do with the true reason for attending mass.  It is all theater.  Unfortunately, it is theater I fear I may allow to distract me.  I reject that this is the ‘new normal’ we have to get used to.  I reject that premise, because once you get used to a new normal, then it just becomes ‘normal’.  There have been too many new social ‘normals’ in society over recent years that we are told we simply need to get used to.  Many of these new social normals fly directly in the face of our faith. 

I do not reject safety, but I do long for the day that I can celebrate mass with many smiling faces around me.  I long for the day I can exchange “peace” with the families sitting near me.  In the meantime, I do not accept the new normal, because I want to continue to remember these simple joys that come from being together within the community of the Body of the Church.  I do not want to gain a comfort with losing these, and want to continue to look forward to their return.  Until then, as always, I still long for the Eucharist. 

For those who cannot, or choose not, to join in the public Sacrifice of the Mass, I respect your situation, and I continue to pray for you.  For those who choose to attend, I warn you of the new theater that exists, which is ancillary to the mass.  Although we have seen it in public settings over the past months, they were foreign to me in the setting of mass, and these were a few of the thoughts and struggles that unfortunately distracted me.  Perhaps my sharing might help some of you be prepared so that you may better focus on what is truly important.  NOT to prepare you to get used to any new normal, but to allow you to isolate the theater that faces us, from the Mass we all used to know. 

I pray that we each may see the mass as a child.  Not with the immaturity of focus that would have us playing with blue tape on the pews and looking all around.  But rather, with the wonder and awe that comes with seeing the miracle before us on the alter, with fresh, innocent eyes, an innocent faith, and the ability to have tunnel vision towards that Sacrifice, while being (reverently) oblivious to all that surrounds us.    

Matt Buehrig

The Lion and the Lamb

I heard a story recently about a baby lion that was born.  The baby was there with his mother and there was an attack.  The attack was brutal, and the mother was killed.  The father in an attempt to save the cub threw him in the bushes.  Then the father was killed as well, but the baby lion lived.  After the massacre was done, the lion woke up all alone, barely functioning at such an early age.  Just then a herd of sheep came by, “Baaa…baaaa.”  The lion cub came out and one of the sheep rubbed up against him, and before you know it, in a few months, he had joined the herd.  This little lion would walk around with these sheep saying, “Baaaaa…..baaaaaa,” acting and sounding like a sheep.  Then one day, a group of lions came upon the herd.  They sliced up all the sheep around them.  The little lion, who is not so little anymore, watches all this around him saying “Baaaa….baaaa.”  He’s horrified by it all.  He’s in shock as this one giant male lion approaches him.  The giant lion smacks the young lion on the head and says, “What the hell is wrong with you?”  He grabs him by the mane and takes him to the stream.  He forces the young lion to look down so he can see he’s not a sheep.  But the young lion is still not convinced.  So the big lion tries to feed the young lion some of the sheep.  He tries to spit it out not wanting to betray his brethren, but the big lion shoves the lamb into his mouth and forces him to swallow.  Then something magical happens.  Somewhere deep inside, the lion remembers who he truly is.  That there is something inside of him that nothing can ever take away.  Nothing.  Something so strong that it can be kind but powerful, and as the food goes down, everything changes.  He stops saying “Baaa…..baaaa” and he lets out a huge “ROAR!!!”

I can’t help but see myself at times as this lost lion.  Different tragedies in my life have caused me to loose sight of who I am, and who I was meant to be.  I go about my days in the warm comfort of the herd, believing all of the lies they continue to tell me.  

Baaaa….baaaa – your life is about you and your comfort.  

Baaaa….baaaa – when you fail, everyone will abandon you.  

Baaaa….baaaa – God is distant and uninterested in the details of your life.

Jacob’s blog last week reminded me that these lies I keep believing have me worshiping self-reliance rather than having faith that I will be provided for.  This is a knot I need to untie- or better yet, I need to hand over.  It’s time I realize that I can’t control my daughter’s depression, where my grandson will live, or my failing business.  I need to trust that it will be ok and believe that my version of ok, might not be what’s best for me.  I don’t think that if I pray that God will do all of the work.  I do think that if I trust Him, He will give me the strength and resilience to overcome whatever I’m faced with.  I have a sign in my office that reads, “The will of God will never take you were the grace of God will not protect you.”  I need to let that soak in.  Rather than focusing on solving my problems on my own, I should spend more time letting God’s grace take a crack at it.  My role in that is to stop blocking His grace with my pride and sin. 

We are just a few short days away from being able to receive the Eucharist again, my brothers.  I pray that this time it is different.  If you find yourself lost, let these words grab you and force you to look at your reflection.  When you go to mass for the first time in months, take in that lamb and let it resonate deep inside, reminding you who you truly are.  I’m sure our awesome priests would have no problems if after receiving the body of Christ, you turn around and let out an epic “ROAR!!!”

The Limits of Action

"Everything is figureoutable." I almost crashed my car when I read this message on a sign outside of a local middle school last week. In this time of crisis, we are clamoring for a solution to the problem of a pandemic that has reshaped our daily lives. We find ourselves in an uncomfortable place. We are unable to stop the spread of an invisible enemy despite our technological advancements and modern scientific methods. These issues lead us to consider a compelling question: can we overcome all of our problems by relying on human action?

As husbands and fathers, we are hard-wired for action. There is no pickle jar that we can't open, no project that we won't tackle, and no challenge that can't be mastered by hard work and ingenuity. Perhaps no man embodied this vibrant spirit of masculinity as well as Theodore Roosevelt. Action, grit, and poise were a few of the characteristics that set Theodore Roosevelt apart from other men. He led men into battle during the Spanish-American War, mediated an end to the Russo-Japanese War, wrote thousands of literary works, and was known for his good humor and charm.

I often think of men like Theodore Roosevelt in times of crisis. I yearn to rise up and embrace challenges as he did; to wrestle with difficulty in the crucible of suffering and emerge triumphant from the fray. I find myself thinking that what we need in our world are more men who will rush headlong with confidence into the seemingly unwinnable battles. The world's problems can be overcome by the virtue of action.

What happens if by acting, by going out into the fray, we actually fall prey to the very enemy that we seek to subdue? Perhaps the most difficult part of this current pandemic is the fact that action is so often associated with death and ruin. Yet, as we distance ourselves from each other and remain in our homes, we watch as our economy crumbles. We seem to have two choices: go out into the world and risk death by infection or stay home and risk death by starvation. This juxtaposition leaves us confused and searching not only for a solution but for a reason why.

The meaning of this crisis is hotly debated. Some claim that the virus is mother nature taking out her anger against mankind in response to his abuse of her resources. Others are quick to point out that this is God's chastisement for the Church's public worship of the Pachamama idols during the Amazonian Synod. God has chastised His people before. He has visited wrath upon both His chosen people and their enemies alike.

Our modern sensibilities struggle to understand a supreme being who is all-loving and yet permits evil to happen. We are faced with a stark contrast: an all-loving God who both allows acts of destruction and even directly causes these horrible tragedies. The problem of evil is complex, one that can't be fully explained within these few paragraphs. One explanation of this problem is that God allows and sometimes causes destruction in the world in order to bring about a greater good.

We pride ourselves on self-sufficiency. We have gone so far as to establish ourselves as the ultimate judge of right and wrong. What's moral is what makes us feel good. Forget what some thousand-year old book has to say. The bible wasn't written in 2020. The authors failed to grasp the complexity of life in the modern world. Thoughts such as these are evidence that the sin of pride, the gravest of all sins, is rampant in our world today.

Is there a limit to the “progress” of our modern age? Surely our accomplishments will sustain us for our lives and for generations to come. Our actions can create positive change in the world. Much like Theodore Roosevelt, we can harness the virtue of action to create peace and order in the world. Yet, what we’re typically left with are mere externals, whitewashed tombs. Despite all of his accomplishments, Theodore Roosevelt struggled to find peace and fulfillment at the end of his life. Out of power and removed from the spotlight, Roosevelt encountered himself as an aging old man. His great feats were not enough to bring him peace and joy in his last days. The glint of his magnanimous personality began to tarnish with the patina of old age and irrelevance.

Our actions cannot bear the fruits of lasting joy and peace unless they are directed toward our ultimate end, union with God. It is through God, with God, and in God that we can expect to find fulfillment during our life and immeasurable bliss in the life to come. All paths that lead away from God lead to death. Yet, as an Easter people, we hope for new life. Suffering, agony, and toil will continue to assault us in this fallen world. Whether we find ourselves exhausted by human action or distressed by idleness, our Blessed Lord’s promise remains: “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest”(1).

References

(1) Matthew 11:28

Be Not Afraid

It has been months since I’ve written.  When I saw I was not on the blog schedule during Lent, I was saddened.  Once this pandemic hit, I was upset I would not be sharing my thoughts.  As Easter approached and we all dealt with our new realities surrounding religious worship, I wished to write.  All of those thoughts were my own ego shining through.  My own idea that something I might write would be of value or importance greater than the revelations you were encountering already on your own.

Now that Easter has come, I am scheduled to write, and I am failing.  I cannot share words of encouragement, or joy, because those feelings do not exist within me at the moment.  I have written a dozen entries for this blog post, and deleted them all.  I had put onto paper the feelings that I do strongly have…anger, sadness, distress.  Perhaps many of you feel those as well.  If misery loves company, then perhaps those deleted writings could have helped you to feel less alone, and more connected.

Just as I have every year in recent memory, I spent Good Friday backpacking, and then sleeping in the woods alone that night.  This was one of very few traditions that I was able to continue this year.  Most of my other family customs and personal traditions surrounding Holy Week and Easter were denied this year, as they were for many of you.  In past years, I always ventured into the woods to escape the pace of society, to get away from work and email and phone calls.  I did it to disrupt my everyday normalcy and force something different…quiet…uncomfortable into my life in order to reflect on the importance of the season.  This year, my Good Friday retreat alone in the woods did not fulfill its purpose.  It was, in fact, the most “normal” day I had experienced in several weeks.  The rest of Lent had already been too different and uncomfortable.     

This lockdown of American, and worldwide, society has polarized the nation more than any political issue in memory.  As we are asked to abandon “normal” life, avoid activities that bring us joy, give up wealth, and surrender businesses built with blood and sweat over decades, spiritual activities are not immune.  The full and complete shutdown of the public celebration of the holy sacrifice of the mass in our Archdiocese, and most diocese throughout the country, is taking a toll on the spiritual lives of millions.  Risk vs. Reward is the cry heard often.  No matter your personal thoughts on all of this, opinions are strong and vary widely. 

These opinions do not divide along political party lines.  They do not reveal themselves as conservative or liberal.  They are not bound by country, or state, or city, or race, or religion.  Yet these varying opinions exist and they exist strongly.  Whenever the world opens back up, and society attempts a return to the new normal, we will go back to work…back to school…back to church…and back to our family dinner tables with people who may have taken a stand during the crisis, perhaps strongly opposed to our own.  You may pray for an extension and increase of quarantine orders, or you may pray for a complete, immediate, and total opening of society, or your own opinion may be even more extreme to one end, or somewhere more in the middle.  Regardless, how will we act towards others when we enter into the New Normal?

These are real and true problems.  These are real and true issues and beliefs held by intelligent, caring, moral individuals ON BOTH SIDES of the spectrum.  I myself hold very strong beliefs, and have seen, first hand, everything over the past few weeks from the death of a family member, to the destruction of a multi-generational business.  If I wrote this correctly, however, hopefully all were able to read this impartially, without noting a bias.  Hopefully I have been successful to this point.

Now to state my opinion.  This goes to something I hold as stronger than health and income and economy and even any life on this earth.  Let us look at the Risk vs. Reward decisions impacting our spiritual life, and ultimately, our immortal soul.  I applaud the creative efforts of our priests, pastors, and parishioners to minister to the flock at this difficult time.  The utilization of technology to provide viewing of Sunday masses, and to allow people to virtually “join” Stations of the Cross and rosary sessions, has been impressive.  The creative efforts taken to continue to provide the sacrament of reconciliation has been refreshing and appreciated.

I must be honest however.  My first viewing of mass online, on my family room TV, was unfulfilling.  My viewing of Easter Sunday mass was saddening.  Seeing incense being used during the mass, but not being able to smell, and have decades of memories flood back as it does every time, was depressing.  Not being able to partake in the full, personal, physical act of communion during mass is maddening.  I appreciate the positive statements of priests, the uplifting homilies, the writings of many who see this as a time to grow in their faith, and those who see an opportunity from God to appreciate all that we have.  I understand the miraculous gift that is “spiritual communion” whereas we unite ourselves in prayer to each other, to the church, to the priest at the moment of consecration, and to our risen Savior and Lord.  I, however, also know my own faults, my own doubts, and my own weaknesses.

The undeniable Source and Summit of our faith is the Eucharist.  It is the center of our Church’s life.  In memory of Jesus, as written in the gospels…according to the catechism…as carried out for millennia within the liturgical celebration, the holy sacrifice of the mass…to be partaken of…with faithful gathered together.  Within that context we are promised and assured that Jesus becomes one with us as we receive him.  I know that this is possible regardless of time and space because I have faith that, with God, ALL THINGS ARE POSSIBLE.  However, I am weak and I long for the Eucharist.  The Eucharist is the source of grace, because it is the Giver of grace Himself.

The spiritual shepherd of our diocese must take upon himself the decision to relieve or extend our obligation for Sunday mass, and we are blessed that we do not have the moral burden of making that decision for ourselves.  I ask for prayers for him, and for all bishops and church leaders, that the wisdom of the Holy Spirit guides their decisions.  I, personally, do hope that we are allowed to be joined together PHYSICALLY in the mass again SOONER rather than later.  My soul longs for this.  Even if the relief from our Sunday obligation is continued, which I imagine it must be for those most at risk, I personally want the option and the opportunity to partake for myself and for my family.

If the question is risk vs. reward, do I risk physical death for spiritual life?  That answer is undeniably YES.  But with that YES, I admit I am a hypocrite.  If I wasn’t, then my attendance would have been mandatory at daily mass prior to the pandemic.  It wasn’t.  I slept in.  I exercised.  I went to work early.  I did not take every opportunity to participate in mass when it was offered.  Now that it is taken away, however, I hunger for it all the more…I thirst.

I hope that creative solutions come soon which allow us options to join together physically in the sacrifice of the mass here on earth.  And for that matter I hope to soon see the Baptism of our Catechumens, and Confirmation for our 8^th graders.  If my teenage daughter and her co-workers can continue to provide the good people of our community with drive-thru frozen custard during these most troubling of times, I truly hope that access to receive the Eucharist cannot be denied much longer.  I do not say this with any disrespect, or assumption that one thing equals the other; I simply allow my frustration, my hope, and my desire, to be revealed here for all.

I noticed all throughout Lent that the readings repeated statements to “Be Not Afraid” and similar encouraging statements from Jesus and the apostles not to fear.  I encourage going back through the Sunday mass readings over the past two months, and reading them again for yourselves.  The Word of the Lord will certainly be of more comfort than anything I could ever write. 

Be not afraid.

Written By:  Matt Buehrig