Companions in Hope

When we were creating our videos for Rediscovering Catholic Faith at St. Joseph’s, I was fortunate to work on this week’s Sunday celebration of All Souls Day. It doesn’t fall on a Sunday too frequently, and so when it does, it’s a beautiful opportunity to reflect on the question so often asked at times of loss, “What would I do without my faith?”

The subject always reminds me of theologian Elizabeth Johnson, CSJ and what she writes about  the dead and particularly, the Communion of Saints. In Friends of God and Prophets she writes: “…the symbol of the communion of saints bears the pledge that in and through the wrenching of death, terrible at times, an ever so quiet ‘Alleluia’ can be heard. Having arrived at their destiny, the living dead become our companions in hope.” The communion of saints which includes the canonized saints, the souls in purgatory, and our own beloved dead who have died in friendship with God, can become a source of hope and companionship for us in our own journeys of faith.

The Catholic faith gives us a rich storehouse of truths about the Communion of Saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and life everlasting. These truths give meaning to the process of grieving a loved one, providing great consolation and, ultimately, hope.

May the souls of the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace, and may we have peace in our hearts knowing they are with God and we will see them again.

Blessings,

Cathy

Confessions of a Suburban Snob

In week three of the “Rediscover Catholic Faith” series at St. Joseph’s, Father Jim Schwartz talks about the “Great Commandment” in this Sunday’s Gospel as the “guts” of Catholic morality: “You shall love the Lord your God, with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind. This is the greatest and first commandment. The second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself.”

I believe that, really believe that. And I thought that my recent years’ ministry experiences had gotten me beyond some of the stereotypes and knee-jerk reactions that can lurk in the dark recesses of our suburban hearts when we encounter those living in different circumstances from ourselves. Recent experiences tell me I have a long way to go in living the Great Commandment.

This summer, when we were “between homes” for a few weeks, we were blessed to have an apartment in Rochester available to us, thanks to our future son-in-law, Ryan, and daughter, Sarah. It seemed like an adventure at first—sleeping on a mattress, camp chairs as the only furniture, no cooking utensils—maybe a mini vacation of sorts. But the feeling soon changed when we realized that Ryan’s and Sarah’s upstairs tenants were less than model renters. In the first week we had to call the police twice to break up violent domestic disputes; we listened with sinking hearts to the place being trashed; and I got bit by one of their dogs. I found myself having less-than-Christian feelings toward more than the aggressive canine.

Now we are happily resettled in Webster, the town known as the place “where life is worth living.” We are fortunate to have a charming apartment with beautiful green space, and a spectacular park and walking trails right out our back door. A place that even welcomes our beloved, 87-pound, very lively labradoodle, Cooper.

But guess what? We don’t have model renters upstairs in Webster either. They yell at each other; they are not light on their feet; they have too many cars; they don’t pick up after their dog (when they let the little guy out). I find myself having less-than-Christian feelings toward more than the messy pup.

Perhaps St. Augustine has the best prayer. “I believe, Lord, help my unbelief.” I believe the Great Commandment is the way to live but it’s hard when it’s your actual neighbors testing your Christian values. Help my unbelief!

Blessings,

Cathy

Getting Creative about Rediscovering Catholic Faith

This past Sunday on the cover of our St. Joseph's bulletin, I posted a series of questions we Catholics might struggle with: What is salvation? What are the themes of Catholic social teaching? Which line of Scripture captures the "guts" of Catholic morality? What do we believe about the afterlife? What are the four marks of the Church? What makes a talent a “charism?” (Some people have said these questions are hard.)

We could dust off our Baltimore Catechisms and other documents for the answers, or we could open a Bible. The Sunday Gospels from October 12 through November 16 offer ways to reflect on and respond to each of those questions. The staff at St. Joseph’s has put together a six-week series to explore how the Gospels for these six Sundays address these questions of Catholic teaching and tradition. The Bible is the foundation of all that our Church teaches – spending time with the Gospels is a great way to “Rediscover Catholic Faith,” as we are calling this study series.

Specifically, this week, we read in the Gospel of Matthew about the Pharisees’ trick question to Jesus about paying taxes to the Roman empire. We can ponder how we as Catholics can have a positive influence on our society and culture, even our government, as election time approaches. And how we can repay to God what belongs to God (which is, of course, everything).

It’s been especially enjoyable for me to work with Father Jim Schwartz and our “video team” to create a series of six videos commentaries. Father Jim did three and I did three. It was a great way to rekindle the creative, “Spirit-filled” energy that once felt sparked by the preparation of Sunday reflections. I’m grateful for the creative talents and friendship of Deacon Duncan Harris (videography), Matt Curlee (editing, sound, music), Jim Gulley, and Jeanne Mooney.

This five-minute video commentary is a sample of what the Spirit has inspired us to create, a way for us to return to God all that we have been given.

Blessings,

Cathy

Labor Pains

This morning, before 9:00 Mass began at St. Joseph’s, a parishioner told me that he and his wife had been wondering why I hadn’t preached at Mass in a long time. When I explained that I would no longer be doing that he told me what a loss that was for him and his wife.

That really got me thinking. More accurately, it got my feeling. Recently, that “loss” has been real for me, too, and I have felt unable to put my thoughts together to reflect in any depth on Scripture or my own faith journey. My blog had gone dormant.

But in the space of an hour, this parishioner shared those kind thoughts; I got a sweet “happy half-birthday” text from my daughter Laura; I heard today’s readings again; I spent time with three adults seeking the Sacraments of Initiation; and I heard Fr. Jim’s Schwartz’ homily for a second time which brilliantly brings together the many facets of the parable of the sower and the seed.

In the light of those enriching events, one more line jumped out from the Scriptures that helped bring it all together for me. That is the line in the letter to the Romans, “We know that all creation is groaning in labor pains even until now…”

As a mother, I sometimes feel I don’t have the right to wear the badge of honor that comes with having been in labor. I had the easiest labor and deliveries ever. And we have been blessed with wonderful children who made parenting near effortless.

Yet, like all of creation, aren’t each of us individually still groaning in labor throughout our lives to give birth to our most authentic selves as children of God? Are we not always writhing with the pain of knowing we can do better? To mix metaphors, don’t we always know that our soil can do with a bit more cultivation?

And so on this my half-birthday (my sister Margaret began a tradition of celebrating half-birthdays with my daughters when they were born 17 months apart at opposite times of the year so they would have something to celebrate near the other one’s birthday) I reflect on recommitting myself to the labor and pain of finding new ways to share my reflections on the Gospel. I am deeply grateful for the kind nudge.

Blessings,

Cathy

Homeless

Last night a small group from St. Joseph’s had the opportunity to join St. Mary’s Church in Rochester on its monthly outreach to those currently living on our city streets. Anne, Mike, and Marie volunteered to join Katie and myself. Katie coordinates and directs this effort for St. Joe’s four times a year. Earlier in the day, other St. Joseph’s parishioners had shopped and prepared 35 lunches and organized toiletry bags with much sought-after socks.

In addition to a police escort, a physician, people from the Salvation Army, a representative of the Veterans Administration, a Medical Motor Service van and dedicated driver, there were several social workers from the county and various agencies as well as key players from St. Mary’s including Diane, Beverly and Deacon Dave.

The goals of the ministry are simple yet so complex: help people get off the street and get them connected with services that can provide meaningful support. More importantly, a goal is to bring the love and compassion of Jesus, even if just for a few moments.

All those encountered receive a meal and toiletries. People are offered a motel stay for the night and the opportunity to meet with a caseworker in the morning. Some people prefer to stay on the street because of their prior lack of success with the system or deep distrust or a myriad of other issues.

After gathering at St. Mary’s for last-minute instructions and prayer, we were off in caravan to several sites near I-490 overpasses. A few people got food for the night; one guy decided to take us up on the motel room.

Our final site was the Civic Center garage, ironically situated under the “hall of justice.” There is nothing just about a society that cannot find beds and homes for its most vulnerable citizens and veterans of war. The tendency of the homeless to bunk in the garage has been the subject of much debate in the City of Rochester. For now, it is a relatively safe haven, thanks to those who speak out on behalf of the voiceless. If not for the garage, where would they go?

On this balmy spring evening, the garage was surprisingly well occupied by homeless men and a few women. Our supply of lunches and toiletries was quickly depleted. The social workers went to work. By around 11PM, 13 men and one woman were in the van en route to a motel for the night; another one or two went off to the Salvation Army. All will receive bus passes in the morning and will be offered the opportunity for intensive case work.

The outing was amazingly uneventful. Good people doing good work. Good people living on the street as their last resort. Good people grateful for a helping hand. I especially enjoyed the gentleman who came outside from his motel room to inquire about getting to an appointment on time in the morning. As he went back inside he said, “God bless you all. Be safe.”

But for the grace of God … we can all find ourselves as the good people doing good work or good people grateful for a helping hand. Deacon Dave made the point that his downtown parish receives a shocking number of requests for financial assistance from people who live precariously in the suburbs, people who would not think to come to their local parish for assistance out of pride or the parish’s lack of resources dedicated to helping those in financial crisis.

In recent years, I have had the opportunity to be both the helper and the one receiving the support of good people in so many ways. It is so much easier to be the doer. But it is equally important to know how to ask for and receive help with grace. God created us as creatures dependent on both the love and mercy of God and the compassion of each other.

And so in the words of a wise man,

“God bless you all. Be safe.”

Cathy

Hope!

I had the unexpected pleasure today of introducing the speaker at the Pastoral Associate/Pastoral Ministers Association retreat for the Diocese of Rochester. The inspired speaker was my former professor of liturgical leadership and academic advisor, Dr. Ella Johnson, Assistant Professor of Systematic Theology at St. Bernard’s. “Hope! Sustaining and Renewing Life-Giving Ministry” was the topic and the presentation lived up to its title.

A point of reflection for me is Ella’s distinction between the virtue of hope and optimism. While optimism holds the expectation that something better will happen, the reality is that sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes optimism comes, then it goes. Hope, on the other hand, is the belief that whatever the situation, God is with us, leading us, sustaining us. Rather than looking forward with optimistic expectation of particular resolutions, hope allows us to live in the moment, confident that all of life is in God’s hands. “Hope believes God will make every circumstance better,” Ella shared.

Ministry, she said, is “hope in action.” To sustain ourselves for the challenging mission of God, a “Eucharistic spirituality is critical” for those working in the ministry of the Church. It “reveals who we are now and who we are called to be.” Quoting Pope Benedict XVI, “Eucharistic communion includes the reality both of being loved and of loving others in return.” The Eucharist brings us to a sacramental vision that grace is everywhere and all leads us to God. And above all, in ministry, we must recall the important words of Pope Francis, “no sourpusses!”

An expert in medieval women’s theology, an important theme of the day was that of St. Julian of Norwich that we must believe—in faith and in hope and in love—that with God, “All will be well.”

Blessings,

Cathy

Living the Easter Mystery

As we observe the Octave of Easter, I am profoundly aware of having lived the days of the sacred Paschal Triduum – Holy Thursday to Easter night – in their fullness and very much in community. 

On Holy Thursday, as three of the Elect in the Rite of Christian Initiation for Adults presented the blessed oils—the Oil of the Catechumens, Sacred Chrism, Oil of the Infirm—to the assembly, it was clear that they’ve found their spiritual home at St. Joe’s.

One of those presenters was Adam Welz. When Adam said he had promised his daughter that he would learn about becoming Catholic when she first dipped her toe into Faith Formation for children, the RCIA team prayed he would embrace the process not only for his family but for himself—that he would enter into his own relationship with Jesus Christ. And how beautifully that process unfolded over time as he pondered the meaning of the Scriptures and teachings of the Roman Catholic Church! To see his expression of joy as he was immersed in the waters of Baptism at the Easter Vigil, to watch him reach out and embrace his pastor in love and gratitude, was a great moment of faith. Only to be followed so joyfully by the Baptism of the children of Nicole and Brian Diehl, Chase and Lauren. 

A first in our experience of preparing candidates for the Easter Vigil was the five candidates—Nicole Diehl, Ginia Falcon, Dan Henry, Jim King and Vince Tassone—deciding to memorize and rehearse the Profession of Faith together. They proudly professed the faith of our Church, in full voice and in unison.

Completing the profound experience of the Triduum was an Easter day visit with our long-time parishioner, St. Joseph School faculty member and librarian, and dear friend, Mary Malone. Joan Doyle and I went to Shepherd Home to pray with Mary and bring Holy Communion. It was Mary’s prayer that this be Viaticum, her final reception of Holy Communion before going home to God. And so we prayed the Easter-filled prayers of Viaticum with Mary. When it came time for her to receive, her weakened body could not have taken a full host and so we broke the bread. Mary received a tiny bit of the Body of Christ; her beloved Joan received the rest. Mary said little but as always her loving spirit and gratitude for the presence of the Lord in her life came through in her gaze. Indeed, Jesus took her home as the sun was setting on Easter day and the Paschal Triduum drew to a close. 

The darkness of Good Friday gave way to God’s eternal light.

We know the angels were there to greet you, Mrs. Malone. Rest easy knowing there are newly received Catholics and countless children at St. Joseph’s who will do their best to fill the void you leave in our community and in our hearts. 

Blessings,

Cathy

Cross of Perfection

On this Holy Thursday, at Morning Prayer, I had the sacred privilege of sharing a reflection on a few powerful lines of Scripture:

We see Jesus “crowned with glory and honor” because he suffered death, he who “for a little while” was made “lower than the angels,” that by the grace of God he might taste death for everyone. For it was fitting that he, for whom and through whom all things exist, in bringing many children to glory, should make the leader to their salvation perfect through suffering. Hebrews 2: 9-10

This passage from this morning’s Liturgy of the Hours might well be inscribed on the Crucifix and mosaic in the St. Joseph’s sanctuary.  Why is the painful image of Jesus hanging from the cross set against a backdrop of shimmering gold? It is the ultimate paradox. Jesus is crowned with glory and honor because he suffered death for our sake in such a horrific, violent, barbaric way.

God the Father did, indeed, makes his Son perfect through suffering. What does the author of Hebrews mean here by “perfect?” Rather than our superficial notion of a perfect score or perfect human achievement, in the New Testament this word is used to describe a person who fulfills their purpose or matures into the role God has in mind for them. In the early Church it described someone who had completed the catechumenate and was ready to be baptized into the faith community.

Jesus is made perfect so that he can lead all of us into the salvation God has waiting for us. Through his human suffering, Jesus embraces his identity with us, sympathizes with our pain and suffering, and now he knows how he can lead us to new life.

All of our pain and suffering pales in comparison. Yet, our setbacks in life serve a similar purpose. They allow us to join ourselves in deeper union with Jesus; our setbacks allow us to know each other’s pain and suffering so that we can lead each other through it. 

The spiritual writer Richard Rohr has shared a number of thoughts on this subject in his daily emails leading up to Holy Week. Among them is the idea that if we are not transformed by our suffering then we will surely transmit our suffering to others. (Isn't that the truth?) On the other hand, transformed people, he says, transform other people.

On this Holy Thursday, as we get ready to celebrate the Paschal Triduum, and as we prepare to welcome many into our Catholic churches, what is the model of suffering and salvation that Jesus asks us to imitate? Are we people who transmit suffering or are we people who are transformed by suffering so that we can transform others?

Pope Francis wrote in the Joy of the Gospel, “How beautiful it is to stand before the Crucifix, simply to be under the Lord’s gaze, so full of love.” What a beautiful invitation to stand before the Crucifix in these days. By the grace of God, may we be transformed in love for others.

When the one you love is sick

Father Jim Schwartz’s homily on the raising of Lazarus this past weekend at St. Joseph’s caused me to reflect as he did on illness in my family. He pondered why he is blessed with good health when his older brother Bill suffered complications of lupus that took his life, and his sister Sue has struggled with M.S. for the past 45 years.

In my family, we have puzzled over the extraordinary good health that most of us enjoy. You might say we come from “good stock.”  My mom lived a very full 90 years; my dad was the picture of health until  lung cancer in his late 70s. Of my siblings and cousins, we seem to go through life unscathed – that is until the past year or so.

Last year we lost my cousin Chip, very quickly and much too soon, following a cancer diagnosis. My niece Christine’s husband Mike was diagnosed with brain cancer in the past year, and has endured several surgeries. My oldest niece Debra was diagnosed with breast cancer at Christmas time, has had two surgeries, and is now at the beginning of a significant treatment protocol. Like so many families, we are learning how to cope with serious illness and now puzzle over why these wonderful, good young people, their spouses and children, must endure such pain and difficulty.

Here in Rochester, my mother-in-law Rosemary is dealing with significant lymphedema and complications of a variety of medical issues.

It is “at these times that we realize all depends on God,” Fr. Jim preached. At times when “the one we love” struggles with illness or loss, we become very aware of both our need for God, and our need to embrace each other.

Whether in family, and/or the community we find when we come together to worship God in faith, indeed it is times like these when we find opportunities to grow in trust in our loving God, and in closeness and love with one another.

May we always pray for each other’s family members—those suffering illness and those blessed with the good health to care for the ones who are ill. God gives each of us what we need to get through it all together.

Blessings

Moving Forward in Hope and Love

When I moved to Rochester from Long Island in 1995 and joined St. Joseph’s Church, I was surprised to see women preaching at the time of the homily. My surprise soon gave way to a new way of understanding our shared responsibility for the vitality of our Catholic community, and the need to develop our talents in the service of God and each other. Like the Samaritan woman in this past Sunday’s Gospel and the man born blind this week, my faith slowly deepened and I ultimately understood myself as called to ministry.

For the past five years, as your pastoral associate, my ministry has included occasionally offering Scripture reflections at the Mass. Authorized by Bishop Emeritus Matthew Clark for lay preaching in 2009, I took this sacred privilege very seriously. My formation has included six years of study at St. Bernard’s School of Theology and Ministry, receiving a Master of Divinity, and ongoing Scripture study.

I am deeply grateful for the exchanges I have had with so many of you in dialogue with what I have shared in my reflections.  I am deeply grateful to Bishop Emeritus Clark and Father Jim Schwartz for entrusting me with this ministry.

The matter of canon law relevant to preaching at the time of the homily is currently being reviewed on a case-by-case basis by the Most Reverend Bishop Salvatore R. Matano.  My reflections at St. Joseph’s Masses have been addressed in the early part of this process.  In compliance with canon law and more recent Church documents, I will no longer be reflecting on the Scripture in the context of the Mass.

Moving forward, Bishop Matano is encouraging to me in my ministry with you. I very much appreciate words he wrote to me, “To be sure, your love for Our Lord, the Catholic faith and the Church is quite evident, and I pray you will continue to use your talents to build up the Body of Christ.”  Please join me in praying for Bishop Matano and his ministry with us, his care and concern for all so beautifully demonstrated when he was with us this past Saturday evening.

I recommit myself to using my talents to build up the Body of Christ.  I hope to refocus some of my energy and gifts on new forms of adult formation and Scripture study. And there’s my new-found love, social media! If you want to follow my ramblings on a daily basis, follow me on Twitter @cathykamp or Facebook at Cathy Kamp. Weekly, check out “Cathy’s Journal” at http://cathykamp.blogspot.com. If you have other ideas or suggestions, please be in touch.

Humbly, I seek your prayers as I reflect on what this change means for me and other lay ministers in the Catholic Church. I thank you for the gift and the joy of being your pastoral associate at St. Joseph’s. You are ever in my prayers.

Blessings,

Cathy 

Show Me the Way

Throughout my life, when I have really felt confused and unable to discern the path God has in my mind for me, my mantra in prayer has been, “show me the way.” Our Gospel question of the week asks how our dialogue with the Lord has evolved over the years, as the Samaritan woman’s dialogue with Jesus evolves in this Sunday’s Gospel (John 4: 5-42). I find my need for direction and my dialogue changes as the crosses and joys of my life change, but the mantra stays the same. This Lent, that seems particularly ironic since here at St. Joseph’s our message is that Jesus is inviting all of us to “follow me.” I hear that invitation but I must confess I am still praying, ever more fervently, “show me the way.” With our five Lenten Gospels as guideposts, I find this prayer has been percolating in my heart. Maybe it will help you to know where Jesus leads when he says, “Come, follow me.”

Jesus, I desire always to know and follow you.

When I am tempted by own deserts of despair and disappointment,

Show me the way.

When I can no longer see you transfigured before me,

Show me the way.

When the well is too deep and I cannot find my way to your life-giving waters of truth,

Show me the way.

When the light of faith eludes me,

Show me the way.

When the ones you and I love are sick,

Show me the way.

Jesus, I desire always to know and follow you.

Show me the way.

Amen.

Blessings,

Cathy

Two Great Women of Faith

Over the course of the day yesterday, I learned of the loss of two great women of faith, Mary Claire Lyons and Sister Charles, OCarm.

Mary Claire was a decades-long parishioner at St. Joseph’s. She was deeply committed to many ministries over the years but nothing more than participation in the celebration of the Eucharist and the preparation of youth for the Sacrament of Confirmation.  I was privileged to get to know Mary Claire when her beloved husband, Charlie, was in the last year of his life, about three years ago. She was very committed to honoring his wish to live and die at home. Once when I was visiting with them at home, Charlie, who was not supposed to walk on his own, tried to follow us to the door as I was leaving and took a fall. He said, “A gentleman does not sit when two women stand.” Not wanting to call 911 for fear they would take him into the hospital unnecessarily, Mary Claire called a friend to help lift him while I enlisted a certain unnamed volunteer firefighter. Together, they were able to lift him. She never stopped expressing her gratitude for that simple act of kindness and respect to Charlie’s and her wishes.

After Charlie passed, I learned first-hand what others had shared with me about Mary Claire. She had a fierce determination to do everything according to a set of standards and values all her own. She knew how she needed to grieve for Charlie and no societal norms were going to get in the way of that. I came to have the greatest admiration for how she remembered her husband in her day-to-day living in the home they had made together and where they had raised their family. May they be reunited now in their eternal home.

Last evening, I also received a call that a lifelong friend of my parents and family had gone home to God, our dear Sister Charles. She and my dad had worked together and then she took her vows as a Carmelite nun, and she worked the rest of her life in physical therapy with the aged and infirm. 

I have the most wonderful childhood memories of dining out in the best New York restaurants with her and her fellow sisters. In the 1960s and 70s the Carmelite sisters wore full habits, but that did not stop my dad from egging them on to enjoy a cocktail or two with dinner. How they would laugh! How they loved God and life! How the maître d in one particular German restaurant would roll out the red carpet every time we arrived. For a young Catholic schoolgirl, this was delicious stuff! I loved our outings with her, and the mutual affection between her and my parents knew no bounds. Even in her final years when she was not so well herself, that love poured forth at the death of my mom and again a year later when I received my Master of Divinity. She was proud of that little Catholic schoolgirl all grown up, and she no doubt was an influence on my vocation to the Church. My “prayer” this happy hour is that Sister Charles and my dad are clinking glasses in heaven.

And so the Communion of Saints grows by two. May your precious souls rest in peace, Mary Claire and Sister Charles.

Treasured--All My Life

When you work for the Church, you’re always thinking a liturgical season ahead. And so I’m presently immersed in the Lenten Gospels as we’re preparing video and print materials for our small groups at St. Joseph’s. And so on this 13^th anniversary of my dad’s passing, I find myself pondering a question meant for reflection in the fifth week of Lent and the raising of Lazarus: How has the death of one you loved affected your journey of faith?

The truth is, prior to my dad’s battle with lung cancer in 2000-2001, I’m not sure I would have understood the question. In reflection, my journey of faith began anew with my dad’s passing.

As in any family or close group of people, when tragedy strikes, we discover many things about ourselves. First and foremost, we all handle crisis and grief differently. We take on roles to complement and support each other (and, of course, at times clash with one another’s human frailties).

When my dad was ill, there was no doubt about who would tend to his physical needs. My mom would take care of him for as long as she could, and then my sister Margaret would share her nursing skills and love to assist them. And so Margaret did, with a selfless tenderness I will never forget.

What could I do except be there? Even that was easier said than done with my parents living in Florida and Greg and I having a houseful of young kids in Rochester.

But on the trips I managed to make to Florida, I came to realize that my dad had a need to openly talk about dying. He needed to say the words out loud and be heard. He needed to wonder about what came next for him and for those he would leave behind.

In his need, I discovered something about myself. I was OK with his need to talk about it. I came to treasure these conversations or his very occasional, very brief written notes.

One was a handwritten note that came in the mail along with a 1960s, yellowed, soft-cover composition notebook. It was our bird-watching list, started in 1967, and kept by my dad for the rest of his life. He returned it to me, writing: “It has no monetary value, but it has been a treasured possession for a big part of my life. Take care of it for me.” I take it out every year on this morning and chuckle at the silly bird names and marvel at how my little-girl penmanship gave way to his continued decades of recording birds from Long Island to the West Coast to Florida, and even Rochester.

What a gift it was in those last months of his life to see into the very sensitive, emotional, and spiritual side of the one I loved. That experience awoke in me a need to better understand that bit of myself that was comfortable with these conversations, and to appreciate it for what it is – like everything else in life – a gift from God, not to be hidden but shared.

What gifts are waiting to be awoken in you? Blessings!

Then What Happened?

This past weekend, I had the sacred privilege of sharing a reflection on Luke’s Gospel for the Presentation of Our Lord. As an illustration of how both prayer and life’s moments of testing can lead us closer to God and open us to hear God’s voice, I shared a parenting experience from about seven years ago. (You can link to the full text here.)

In an attempt to be both precise and to intentionally leave a bit to the imagination, I left out some details. Some people (moms, in particular) seemed to react with an intuitive understanding. Others really needed to know the whole story.

So today, I share a few more details in this blog. Here’s the part I shared in the reflection:

Simeon and Anna got me reflecting on a time in my family life when I really felt tested as a mom. I had just started working here at St. Joe’s. At home one of our daughters was in high school and a young driver. A few close-calls made us think it wise to impose the restriction that she not drive her friends around town.

A few days later, I pulled out of the Church parking lot on my way to visit three homebound elderly women with Holy Communion. From the high school parking lot came my daughter in her car – and it seemed like kids were just filling up every square inch of that little automobile. My heart sank, my maternal blood boiled.

I had no choice, thanks be to God, but to continue on to my scheduled visits. In the sacred space of these older women’s homes, we talked, we prayed, and Christ was present among us and in the Holy Communion they received. As I went from home to home, the gentle wisdom of these women of great faith replaced my angry, hurt feeling. I returned to St. Joe’s and felt drawn to the chapel, again to the presence of Christ. All was quiet. Out of the silence came a word, over and over. FORGIVE. FORGIVE. FORGIVE.

Now, if you’ve ever raised teenagers…you know this is about the most counterintuitive advice you could imagine. But the message from Jesus was clear. I needed to trust the beautiful person that deep down I knew was emerging in my daughter. I needed to let go and recognize the potential inside her. I needed to see that God was present in this young and vulnerable child of mine, this beloved daughter of God.

Needless to say, how right God was. Out of that test, that challenge, I was blessed to see the mature, caring, responsible young woman God was already busy creating before my eyes. Out of that test, that challenge, my relationship with her changed forever. Thanks be to the wisdom of our elderly, faith-filled parishioners, thanks be to our Lord and Savior.

A few details that people asked about:

“Did your daughter know you saw her?” Yes.

“How did you just keep going with your visits?” I turned my cell phone off.

“How did she get in touch with you?” When I returned to the pastoral offices, I found out my sister was frantically calling from Long Island to track me down because my daughter had called her. (My family is not used to me going off the grid.)

“Do you still see those parishioners you visited that day?” All of those beautiful women have gone home to God – may their souls rest in peace. I was blessed to know them.

But the big question: “Weren’t you letting her get away with it? How was she going to learn?”

Oh my, I see it so differently. What is more intimidating than a calm parent when you know you’ve really messed up? What is harder than taking responsibility for yourself?

And who says she was the one with something to learn?

God spoke to me in my anger and hurt. God moved me to forgive and to figure out what that meant. Out of the opportunity I had to be in prayer that afternoon, and to be with people of wisdom, I had the gift of time and God’s voice to guide me in how I should react.

God gave me the gift of a more mature relationship with my daughter.

Greg and I often reflect on how fortunate we are to have four responsible, loving, hard-working twenty-something kids. They are the light of our lives now and always – thanks be to God.

Blessings to you and your family!

What helps you recognize God?

Our question of the week at St. Joseph’s, in anticipation of this Sunday’s Gospel on the Presentation of the Lord, asks: What helps you recognize the presence of God in daily life? Is it prayer? Struggle? Being “tested?”

For myself, I often find it’s a combination of these things. When life is swimming along, it’s easy to express gratitude to God and to bask in warm feelings.

When the tides turn, I find my focus shifts more intensely to prayer and it tends to be more transformative.

One year in particular that stands out in my mind in 2001, when in the space of 12 months my dad passed away after a painful battle with lung cancer; 9/11 happened; and one of my daughter’s young friends suffered a devastating brain aneurysm. Everything in life seemed askew, from the immediate world of my family and community to the larger world stage.

Yet, it was in those difficult events that I started to see God’s presence in the things of daily life in a much different way: appreciating the grace-filled lifelong love of my parents for each other as my dad’s life was nearing its end, seeing the world rally in compassion for the victims and their families in the tragic events of 9/11; and witnessing how one young girl’s crisis could impact so many people and their faith in so many positive ways, large and small.

What are your struggles this day? How are you being tested?

Would you know Jesus if he were to come to you in the midst of your difficulties?

Give yourself the gift of some quiet time in prayer this week.

Spend time with people who have the wisdom of years and lifelong faith, like Simeon and Anna in this week’s Gospel (Luke 2:22-40).

And stay warm.

Blessings!

Sharing the Light--This Week!

In this coming Sunday’s Gospel, we hear about the call of the disciples, how each of us is called by name for a specific purpose in the discipleship of the Lord Jesus. All of us are called to share the light of Christ.

One of our RCIA candidates recently said in response to this Gospel truth, “That’s scary.”

Isn’t that the truth, too? What if we miss God’s call? What if we don’t get it?

Fortunately, that’s why God gives us faith for life and a lifelong journey so that over and over again we have the opportunity to hear where we are being directed and chosen for the work of God—today, in this time and place.

In the past week at St. Joseph’s we have seen people witnessing to the love of Jesus Christ in so many ways. Here’s just a few ways people are sharing the light:

Our Martha Ministers outdid themselves in hospitality and pastoral care for parishioners and others in our community who currently are caregivers, and for those whose loved ones have now gone home to God;

Parish Social Outreach leaders have challenged us to learn more about Rochester ACTS—Alliance of Communities Transforming Society—so that St. Joseph’s may be part of this urban/suburban partnership to “to train and empower citizens to shape the political, social and economic decisions that impact their lives;”

Too many people have volunteered for our homeless outreach next week in partnership with St. Mary’s downtown … so much food was contributed to Phillip the Van that we need to find alternative ways to manage the food in February!

People of all ages (toddler on up) gathered to talk about ways to form the faith of our youngest parishioners—how do we best plant “seeds of faith”?;

Parents are learning in faith in anticipation of preparing their children for First Eucharist this Easter season;

New Bible studies are beginning;

And more…

I am blessed to be part of a community with so many opportunities to hear God’s call and to share the light of Christ received in Baptism.

Blessings!

On Turning Another Year Older

We’ve all heard that at some point in life it’s just no fun getting another year older. And who wants to work all day (and evening) on their birthday? Or celebrate a birthday in January, so soon after the celebration of the birth of our Lord and Savior?

Well, I am certainly beyond the age at which it is not supposed to be fun anymore. And the Christmas season has barely come to a close with the Baptism of our Lord this past Sunday. And my calendar was as full as it could be yesterday with meetings from morning to night.

And yet, from beginning to end, yesterday was not just fun but full of life and warmth. This is my first birthday since joining the social media realm. Wow, does Facebook make birthdays a public event! As does spending the evening in prayer and discussion with our Pastoral Council members (meaningfully, about what it really means to love the poor).

I don’t think I have ever been wished a happy birthday by so many people.

My deepest thanks to family, friends, and beloved colleagues in ministry who made it such an enjoyable (and fattening!) celebration. My life is already so blessed with loving family and friends and the church community that I love that it is just that much more enriched now with the extra cookies, cakes, chocolate, flowers, Vera pencils and more. Not to mention a late night singing voicemail!

Like Christmas, may all of our birthdays, all year long, be a celebration of the presence of God coming into the world – present in each and every person who chooses to share the love and peace of Christ with one another.

With gratitude. Blessings!

P.S. Laura’s birthday is tomorrow, January 15!

Friends Forever

On another wintery afternoon three years ago today, my mother, Margaret Urbach, went home peacefully to God. How we miss her.

Yet nothing has more formed my belief in life everlasting more than the passing of my dad in 2001 and then my mom in 2011. 

Theologian Elizabeth Johnson calls our deceased loved ones “a company of friends” and “companions in hope.” She writes in Friends of God and Prophets: “Together, the living form with the dead one community of memory and hope … summoned to go forth as companions bringing the face of divine compassion into everyday life.”

As much as I miss having my parents here, I have a profound sense of their spirit and companionship in the most joyful and the darkest hours of life. I feel their presence, their support, their encouragement. I know they are with our family in moments of happiness and worry, of accomplishment and despair, in strength and in weariness; and I know we will all be together again.

This morning I found myself focusing on one of my sweetest Christmas gifts. Sometimes Winnie-the-Pooh says it all: “We’ll be friends forever won’t we Pooh?” asked Piglet. “Even longer,” Pooh answered. Thank you, Laura.

May the souls of all our parents and loved ones rest in peace as they continue to bless us with their friendship.