Corpus Christi

“If the angels were capable of envy, they would envy us for two things: one is the receiving of Holy Communion, and the other is suffering.”  (Diary of Saint Maria Faustina Kowalska, 1804)

The Invisible Illuminated

For all who know well the feelings of solitude and isolation, misunderstanding and loneliness that come from living with an “invisible” illness of any kind, I offer you solace, I hope, in hosting the following video which portrays the hidden sufferings of so many. Though it is not specifically about Lyme disease, it may as well be for all its similarities to the illnesses featured.



As far as these illnesses are alike to what Lyme sufferers may experience, for my part I can attest, it is understandable that such disease can be, as the video states, experienced as "soul-destroying and demoralizing" in the absence of a deep sense of communion with Christ. Yet amidst our many and varied sufferings, hope and joy may be found in the remembrance of His presence therein and in the knowledge that what we suffer in union with Christ is purifying and restorative to the soul, not destructive.

We may recall that St. Paul tells us, "we have this treasure in clay jars, so that it may be made clear that this extraordinary power belongs to God and does not come from us. We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be made visible in our bodies. For while we live, we are always being given up to death for Jesus' sake, so that the life of Jesus may be made visible in our mortal flesh." (2 Corinthians 4:7-11)

Incomparable Friend





Good Friday Revisited

Today is Friday and on Fridays Catholics are encouraged by praying the Liturgy of the Hours and the sorrowful mysteries of the rosary, to meditate upon the sufferings of Christ in His Passion.  In the midst of my own prayerful reflections on our Lord today, my thoughts were turned to the reactions of the people closest to me upon learning of my diagnosis with Lyme disease.

One friend with whom I’d imagined I’d be able to break down and cry chastised me with disgust, feeling I had wrecked my vocation by going out and getting Lyme disease.  Another bewailed his own fate exclaiming: now you can’t take care of me!  And the third of my closest friends at that time was at first shocked, and clueless thereafter as to the daily battle that would ensue, being far removed from sight of me in a monastery.

Comparing these reactions to those that Christ encountered is fairly simple.  How many of His friends and disciples believed it was all over for Jesus when He entered into the agony of His Passion?  How many thought: this ruins everything?  And among His closest friends, His apostles, how many said to themselves: now you can’t take care of me?  How many were shocked by what they saw Him subject to?  How many whom He had known and loved in His life were not there to see His suffering, to witness what He went through, to understand, to care?      

And then, there were my parents.  My mother, watching me day after day, losing weight, limply crumpled over plates of food, who sat with me for as long as it took to get enough down my throat.  Who had to see my face sunken in, my eyes ringed with black, my gaze a glassy distant stare… and my father, who wept at the sight of the IV tubes hanging out of my arm, asking why not me instead? 

Mary saw all that Jesus went through and stood by Him, and went through it with Him, as did my mother with me.  Had Joseph been alive, would he not have wished it were him instead of Jesus?

As for penetrating the paschal mystery, we know that in His own way, the Father in heaven witnessed all that His Son endured, and He was with the Son, and the Son came for our sake to bear that suffering for us, like the earthly father Joseph would have wanted to do if he could have done, like my own father wanted to do for me.

Surrender

What is successful in the eyes of God and what we account as success are not quite the same.  When we think of success in an endeavor, it produces the effect for which we have striven, or perhaps an even greater effect than we imagined possible.  Yet in God’s assessment, it is simply that we have surrendered ourselves wholly to His will that makes of our efforts a success. 

In the Diary of Saint Maria Faustina Kowalska, it is written that she had been given to see how much her confessor was to suffer in carrying out a work entrusted to him by God.  Sister Faustina questioned our Lord saying, “Jesus, this is Your affair, so why are You acting this way toward him?  It seems to me that You are making difficulties for him while at the same time ordering him to act.”  Jesus replied: “Write [in your diary] that by day and by night My gaze is fixed upon him and I permit these adversities in order to increase his merit.  I do not reward for good results but for the patience and hardship undergone for My sake.” (86)

We may have an idea of the way we think our lives will go and then something happens to change our course.  We’re shunted to another track or maybe derailed altogether.  We do what we think is right, expecting a certain type of outcome, and something different occurs.  Maybe we can begin to see and understand why and where it is leading, but then again, maybe not. 

When we surrender ourselves to the will of God, discerning it through prayer, through circumstance, through the results of our efforts to cooperate with His loving plan for us, whether it is possible to understand or not, the surrender itself is pleasing to Him who does not lead us into harm but shepherd’s us according to the best way for ourselves and those others whose lives and souls we touch by our own.

Though for many of us here, it is illness that has seemed to divert us from the path we intended to travel, our surrender to this change in our lives is compatible with His will, for it calls us to embrace with patience, a hardship.  For some of us, it is a short time we will pass through, for others of us, it will be an ongoing struggle, yet His gaze is fixed upon each of us in the knowledge of what we suffer, and not one splinter of the cross we bear which pricks our skin goes unnoticed by Him.       

"Let Your Heart Listen"

“You are My beloved child.

Out of My own self I have created you.

My life is your life;

My breath is your breath;

My Spirit is your spirit.

There is nothing to fear, for I am with you,

mighty in the midst of you.

I am the life that heals you.

I am the love that lifts your heart and sets you free.

I am the wisdom of your mind.  I am the light of your path.

I am the peace of your soul.

I am with you dear child, through every hour

of the day and the night, standing with you,

upholding you, supporting you,

revealing Myself to you and through you.

I am the love that will not let you go.

I seek you out when you do not know how to reach Me.

I speak in your heart to comfort you.

I am the life of your body, and My life is perfect and eternal.

Trust Me.  I am your health.

I am with you in all the experiences of your life.

I am the power in you to understand;

I am the power in you to forgive;

I am the power in you to become.

Beloved, I am with you.

Live in Me.  Rejoice in Me.

You are My beloved child.”

(From a parish bulletin)

Amen

Three days shy of twelve weeks is the longest period of time I have been off antibiotics since I was first diagnosed with Lyme disease in 2007.  For about nine days now I’ve been discerning some odd happenings with my body to determine whether it is Lyme or something else afflicting me, and last night concluded that it’s time to start treating again.

In the early years I had accumulated a mass of medicine bottles, that is, after the boxes of sharps and medical waste had been cleared away, used bags of Rocephin, IV tubing, latex gloves, gauze, tape, vials of saline and such.  Bottles of supplements, vitamins, probiotics and antibiotics cluttered the small space of my tabletop, along with the date diary I was advised to keep as a record of symptoms’ progress and regress. 

At some point I realized it would be much better for my psyche to clear that table and get a weekly pill box instead.  It was important to me that a monument to the illness not be erected in my living space.  Though it had taken over my life in many areas, I would not permit it to impinge in that way. 

For me, invaluable as I lay ill was instead the display of an icon of Our Lady of Tenderness at my bedside:

When struggling to overcome an illness, it is easy to be overwhelmed and consumed by the “cure.”  It is easy to set and center one’s focus and attention completely upon the aim of achieving wellness.  But it is important to remember that in our times of suffering and struggle, we resemble Christ in His great agony and passion of the cross.  The mother of all tenderness and the Father of all mercies look upon us as Christ in such moments, for we may never so much resemble Him as we do in suffering with trust and patience.

Yes, it is right and good to desire wellness, and we should desire this and try to attain it.  Yet also, we must not suffer the burden of illness wishing it away with disdain, for it is a vehicle and a way to holiness, the suffering of which has been sanctified by the loving God Himself.  And so, to whatever the day has brought us to face, let us say: Amen.

Queen of Peace

The Passion of the Saints

It is always a consolation, I think, to read the words of the saints… especially those who have written so passionately and so well about suffering in this life, its meaning and purpose toward accomplishing an end desired mutually by God and the human heart.  I could not pass up the opportunity today to share with you the second reading from the Office of Readings, an excerpt from a letter written by Saint John of Avila:

“Praise to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercy and God of all consolation who consoles us in all our trials and enables us to console others who are being tried, for we urge them on as God urges us on.  As we share generously in the sufferings of Christ, so do we share generously in his consolation.

The words are those of Saint Paul the apostle.  He was beaten with rods three times, flogged five times, stoned once and left for dead; he suffered every persecution men can inflict, his body was twisted by pain and toil.  And all this was his lot not just on one or two occasions, for he writes: We are constantly being handed over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that his life may be revealed in us.

In all these tribulations he does not murmur or complain about God, as weaker men do.  He is not saddened as those who love status and pleasure are.  He does not beg God to be relieved of them, as men do who are unaware of their true value and therefore will have no part of them.  He does not make light of them, as men do who set little value upon them.  On the contrary, fully aware of the value of these tribulations and rising above his own weakness, Paul blesses God amid his sufferings and thanks him as though he had bestowed a fine reward.  He thinks it an honor to be able to suffer for him who subjected himself to so very much shame in order to free us from the dreadful effects of sin; who exalted us by giving us his Spirit and making us adopted sons of God; and who gave us, in his own person and through his own efforts, a proof and pledge of heavenly joy.

Dear brothers and sisters, I pray God may open your eyes and let you see what hidden treasures he bestows on us in the trials from which the world thinks only to flee.  Shame turns into honor when we seek God’s glory.  Present affliction becomes the source of heavenly glory.  To those who suffer wounds in fighting his battles God opens his arms in loving, tender friendship, which is more delightful by far than anything our earthly efforts might produce.  If we have any sense, we shall yearn for these open arms of God.  Can anyone but a man in whom all desire is dead fail to desire him who is wholly loveable, wholly desirable?

If you long for these festivals of heavenly joy, if you want to behold them and take part in them, be assured that there is no better way to reach them than the way of suffering.  This is the way Christ and his disciples have always traveled.  He calls it a narrow way, but it leads straight to life.  That is why he tells us that if we want to join him, we shall travel the way he took.  It is surely not right that the Son of God should go his way on the path of shame while the sons of men walk the way of worldly honor:  The disciple is not above his teacher, nor the servant greater than his master.

God grant that our hearts may find no rest and seek no other food in this world, save in hardship and suffering beside the Lord’s cross.”