I have been reading the gospel of Mark lately. Mark’s gospel begins with the baptism of our Lord Jesus Christ. It doesn’t begin with His genealogy and birth, like Matthew and Luke, but with His ministry. Much of the gospel of Mark talks about how Jesus was judged for his actions, for the people with whom is associated, or for not honoring the letter of the law.
Here is a man who is healing people. He starts with the man with the unclean spirit, then proceeds to heal Peter’s mother-in-law. So, what do they do, they bring other people to Jesus to be healed. What a sign of faith! And people began to seek out Jesus (that is something we should all be continuing to do today). “And he went throughout Galilee, proclaiming the message in their synagogues and casting out demons.” Mark 1:39.
Jesus then heals the leper and the paralytic. He continues to preach and teach. He is doing good work, and the judgment begins. How often do we judge people by their actions without knowing the entire story? How often do we judge people based on their circle of friends without even knowing anything about those individuals, only on what we’ve “heard” about them? How often do we adhere to the letter of law but fail to act in the spirit of the law? Everything is not always what it seems to be. Not everyone is who or what we have been told they are. Not everything is black and white, there are a million nuances of gray.
I am guilty of all of those things, and I am guilty of them daily. I am not proud of that statement, but it is entirely true. It is entirely too easy to make decisions about people, situations, or circumstances without having all the information. We see this in the news and on social media. Unfortunately, we are bombarded with lies, falsities, opinions, propaganda, etc. because of the availability of and access to technology. What we see and experience affects us, and we don’t always take time to find the facts before reacting. Of this, I am also guilty.
Maybe we need to step back and look at the bigger picture. Maybe we need to realize that there are other factors that are at play and that we don’t have the entire scenario or the complete story. Maybe we need to stop and think of ways that we can help rather than hinder and replace judgment with compassion.
Maybe today we can be just a little bit kinder, a little more empathetic, a little bit humbler, a little more respectful. Maybe today we can look for Jesus in one another, maybe we can be Jesus to one another, and maybe just be a little bit better than we were yesterday. And today, please pray for me and I will continue to pray for you.
What’s in it for me? Do you ever find yourself asking that very question, particularly when you are asked to do something? I never thought of myself as particularly selfish, but I find myself pondering this very question more and more often whenever I am asked, no whenever I have to do something, anything.
This really started with going to Sunday mass. You see, I typically go to daily morning mass, Monday through Friday and enjoy it immensely. I always take something away from the readings, the gospel, or the homily. Sometimes it is the psalms and the responses. Sometimes it’s a song (at the churches that have music during their weekday mass). Sometimes it is just the fellowship of the people who are also there each morning celebrating the mystery of the Holy Eucharist with me that make it meaningful.
Just last Friday when I attended morning mass, there were only three of us celebrating and that included the priest. I’ll be honest, at first, I thought, this is a little strange, so few people at morning mass. But it turned out to be extremely blessed and intimate. “For where two or three are gathered in my name, I am with them.” — Matthew 18:20. It was a profound experience.
While I have these wonderful weekly experiences, of being fed spiritually and even socially, during weekday mass, I don’t enjoy that same experience during the Sunday service. In fact, if I am being honest, I dread going. It is not the same experience or even the same atmosphere. It feels pretentious and fake to me. I cannot follow the homilies; they are so convoluted. The service itself is so drawn out, even ostentatious with the changes to the Gloria and the Holy, Holy. I find myself completely distracted during mass and become irritated and tense.
At first, I thought it was simply the parish where I was attending mass. And this is a parish that I absolutely love. But, you know, sometimes change is good. So, we tried a different parish. And while I connected more with the homily, I still found myself distracted and anxious. There is a lot that I just don’t understand, and I have been Catholic my entire life. Everything feels forced and attending makes me feel fake, because I’m not feeling it. Because I don’t want to be there. And that makes me feel guilty.
This is not a good feeling for me. Why do I love the experience, the interaction through the week but loathe it on the weekend? I love going to mass during the week because each day I feel my faith being nourished and restored. But when Sunday rolls around I find myself dreading the arrival of mass time, feeling anxious and frustrated and even angry. I’m not getting anything out of the Sunday service. So, I have found myself asking, “What’s in it for me?”, because I’m not feeling nourished and restored when I leave mass on the weekends.
Then I remembered a conversation that I had with a priest friend of mine, who very gently called me out about not going to Sunday mass, because I had been skipping out for quite a while. He pointed out that “Sunday masses are the ones that it is a sin to miss – even a mortal sin.” And this wasn’t mass shaming, it was telling me what I needed to hear. I was sinning, I knew I was sinning, but needed someone to hold me accountable. That’s when I got my act together, went to confession and got back to Sunday mass.
Then I got sick and had to miss mass because of my illness. And that’s when the backslide began. So, as I am trying to get myself back to church, I find myself asking again “what’s in it for me?”. And once again I am reminded of something profound Fr. Michael had said which was reiterated recently in a homily by Fr. Drake, and that is at we are there for Jesus, not for us. We are there to celebrate God’s great love for us, to worship, praise and honor Him. So, “what’s in it for me?”…God, God’s love, and a chance for me to thank God for the many blessings in my life. Looks like there is a whole lot in it for me.
Tux the Cat stayed with me while I convalesced
So today, remind yourself that its not always about what’s in it for you, but maybe about what you give back to others. And maybe when you give back to others, you’ll really find out what’s in it for you; love, gratitude, empathy, goodness, compassion, and God Himself. And today, please pray for me and I will continue to pray for you.
Ash Wednesday marked the start of the Lenten season, which in and of itself is a big deal. This is the time of prayer, fasting and alms giving as we reflect on God’s great love for us and prepare for Easter Sunday. It was last year that I finally grasped the meaning and importance of the Lenten season. It was when I finally understood what a Lenten sacrifice was. Lent has taken on a much different meaning for me over the past year and has a far greater significance in my life.
The prayer coin we were given at Ash Wednesday Service at Holy Family Church
Ash Wednesday 2020 was meaningful for a couple of other reasons as well. This Ash Wednesday mark my first day of freedom. It was a day of independence, of liberation, of sovereignty, of dominion. It was the day that I got my life back. It was the first day that I had driven a car in well over a month. It was the day that I returned to the office to work (albeit on a limited basis). It was the day that I attended meetings with actual people. Although I had been working from home, my interactions with real people had been quite limited. It was the day that I was able to return to daily mass, and Ash Wednesday 2020 was the first time my husband received ashes (he converted to Catholicism almost 20 years ago but had never received ashes on Ash Wednesday).
I had a work meeting at Leonardo’s, a local coffee house, the evening of Ash Wednesday. My coffee came in this mug; just another message from God.
On February 3rd, everything changed, even if I wasn’t ready, even if I didn’t want it to, even if I was denying that it would change. For the past month, it almost seemed like my life has been on hold. I am not a person who can just sit idly. I am not very good at relaxing and I tend to over think and analyze things when I don’t have something to do. The entire month of February, I was forced to relax. I needed to relax if I was to heal properly.
Although I was diagnosed with breast cancer in early November and had surgery at the beginning of February, I have to remind myself that I am still in recovery. I still, technically, have at least a couple more weeks of recuperation from the mastectomy surgery. And I will have another surgery in a couple of months. I actually have to remind myself that I had cancer.
I know I have mentioned this before, but I don’t feel like I have/had cancer. I don’t feel sick, I don’t feel angry, I am not worried. I am not in pain, I am not depressed, I am not upset. The only things that have reminded me that I had cancer and had surgery to treat it were the changes to my daily routines.
For the entire month of February, I missed daily mass. That was difficult for me because daily mass is part of who I am. Missing daily mass also impacted the way in which I was praying and how I was relating to and talking with God. I didn’t pray morning prayer. I didn’t pray my normal rosary and chaplet of Divine Mercy. In fact, it didn’t seem like I was praying at all. But I was, it was just different. I experienced a profound peace that I never expected to find through all of this. I could sense God’s presence and Christ’s peace even though life had changed, even though there was uncertainty. I wasn’t feeling fear, or pain, or anger, or frustration or any of those things. If I am experiencing anything, it is guilt because of how well I actually feel.
I guess I feel guilty because I know others who have endured cancer, the surgeries, the radiation, the chemotherapy, the exhaustion, the pain, the stress, the depression, and everything else that goes along with it and I really haven’t experienced a lot of that. What I have experienced has not been that severe. I feel guilty for being concerned about not being able to cook for my family or being able to workout at my normal level of intensity (I am allowed to walk and use the elliptical- no arms). That is just selfish. I feel guilty because there are people who are battling cancer who have to deal with the pain and sickness associated with radiation and chemotherapy, and I don’t. I dodged a bullet with that one.
I have to go through reconstructive surgery, a process that is uncomfortable but bearable. I have to have some follow-up visits with my doctors for the next several weeks. I have to take some anti-cancer meds for next ten years. And I get a little tired. What do I really have to complain about, maybe that’s why I feel guilty? Maybe I feel guilty because I am so blessed, and I know I don’t deserve it.
While most days it doesn’t seem like a whole lot in my life has changed, I know that a lot has. And I have the scars (and the medical bills) to prove it. The scars, they are what remind me every day of the blessings.
I was texting with a friend the other day who asked how I was doing. I responded that I feel fantastic and that all of this has been a strange blessing. That’s when it struck me, this really has been a strange blessing. Most people think I am crazy when I say that breast cancer has been a blessing. But it really has been. I can’t explain it, but I marvel at it. I can’t figure out why I have been so fortunate when others have had to endure so much more. Why I have been blessed with such kindness, heartfelt compassion, love and friendship. I could sit and ask why did God give me cancer, but what God did through cancer was bless me abundantly in so many ways. I am just waiting to see what else He has in store for me throughout this journey, because I am pretty sure it is going to be something amazing. So yes, this cancer is a strange blessing, but it is a blessing, an amazing blessing, none the less.
So today, look for the strange blessings within your life, if you really take time, I am sure you will find several, and please pray for me as I will continue to pray for you.
Tattoos, Motorcycles, Beer, Bourbon and Faith 