Furthermore…

Back when I was in high school in the 50’s a kind of ordinary incident happened to me to which I didn’t attach a whole lot of significance at the time but which I now see in retrospect as one of the times when God helped me without being asked.  It’s not too important to me to maintain that it was really god.  It was manifested through my friends, and I’m quite content to see it as merely human help that came my way. I say this because at this older stage in my life I am convinced that God is behind and within everything, so if I can’t adduce His fingerprints on this little matter, all the same, it was God, see!

Our high school at that time was deep into football and our team was playing teams from all over the country instead of the usual bunch of other local high schools that might be expected.  Teams and supporters were brought in from hither and yon each week.  We even had our own football stadium or a sort that might belong to a college, not a high school.

I don’t remember what team  it was that was bussed in to play us that day; actually I only remember the names of a very few of the teams we played way back then.  On that particular day, for some reason I was carrying along, before the game started, some kind of placard sign on a stick, maybe supporting our team, maybe proclaiming some other message.  As I walked along in front of the stands I encountered a bunch of kids from the other school coming the other way.  High spirited and, I guess, full of fun, they (I think somewhat playfully) grabbed and forced down my placard on a stick  and  put me out of business as a sidewalk advertiser.

Out of nowhere some of my friends came charging out of the stands coming to my defense, setting the visitors back on their heels and turning the tide in favor of our side.  That’s all — no big deal.  It was over, no punches thrown, no blood spilt.  Just an unexpected demonstraton of loyalty and friendship coming to me in a moment of seeming peril.  It warmed my heart, in the cool, unobservable way of teenage boys.

Last year I attended a men’s retreat presented by laymen, and this year I am part of the planning committee for a repeat.  The retreat has an established format, and there are a number of themes on which each year basically similar talks are given, drawing largely on the life experiences and struggles of the staff members.  The themes center on Loving God through Knowing Oneself, through Trust, through Faith in the Word, through the Sacraments, Prayer, Healing of Memories, Trust, and Family and Friends.  I too was appointed to give a short talk.

It wasn’t at first clear to me what kind of talk was expected of me.  Speaking to one of the leaders, I found that it was not necessarily to be on one of the established themes, but rather to just be something drawn from my own life that might touch or be of some import to the attendees.  I thought of relating a couple of Army experiences, one of humiliation and the other, related, of getting some well-appreciated support.  I thought of recounting a few of my failures with women, making a play for pity as one of life’s  losers from all the married  ’salt of the earth’ types I’d be addressing.  Or I could go about how I’m not primarily concerned with the Top Ten for Men of sports,work, wife, kids, dog, house, car, lawn, TV,  and sports [sic].

A few more subjects occurred to me, but I finally decided to talk about three times in my life when other people unexpectedly came to my assistance, times which I might subtly suggest were the work of the Lord.

I watch Catholic television a lot.  I keep seeing an ad or promotion for a book containing some of a beloved and famous person’s teachings about the Bible.  At one point, that person is shown holding the Bible and saying something along the line of  ‘read this book if you want to know what God thinks.’  The book she is referring to is the Bible, it would seem, but since it is an ad or promotion for a particular book that is for sale, viewers might easily conclude that it is the book for sale which is being referenced.  Next, a screen shows how to buy ‘this book.’  Pretty slick!  Or is it merely an unintentional slip?

Yesterday I was fortunate in seeing  on EWTN a new  video announced by Fr. Pavone of Priests for Life.  The part I saw showed closeup in color, in the womb, a live unborn child of 6 weeks development.  Captions and commentary  pointed out to the viewers the tiny brain, the beating heart, the eyes, the hands and feet, and other areas of the developing child as the camera seemed to move about and record the images from different aspects.  A sort of technical chart alongside the picture noted the stage of development and, I believe, other information.

Coincidentally, this morning I reported to the medical offices which serve me for a couple of ultrasound examinations.  As I lay on the examining table and chatted with the gentleman performing the tests I remembered and told him about the amazing video I had seen the night before.  I made a point of mentioning that they did state that it was not an ultrasound, but he could not believe that it would have been anything else but an ultrasound.   I left the offices hoping that he would look further into the nature of the process, if only for professional reasons.  I felt glad to have told someone in a timely manner of what I had witnessed, and I also mentioned that it would be widely distributed by the Pro Life community.

Yesterday a deacon who has been assisting at our parish said his first Mass, after having been ordained the day before. It was especially noteworthy for us because this man had come to the United States from Poland only a few years previously to pursue his vocation.  Many priests, both American and Polish, con celebrated the Mass with him.  His Mom and some other relatives came here from Poland to be present at these important milestones in his life.  The Mass was will attended, and an attractive fourteen page program was distributed to serve as a  worship aid and to be saved as a souvenir.  Afterwards, a luncheon was provided in the church hall, and our new priest gave a special new priest’s blessing to all who stepped forward.

The Knights of Columbus at my parish, Council #5699, which I recently joined, did a good work this morning  by giving out free hotdogs to people gathered at a walkathon event held to raise funds for sending a youth mission to Jamaica and also to provide some funds for the next World Youth Day to be held in Spain in 2011. I heard some of the long time Knights saying that today’s hotdogs, secured from a new (to us) purveyor tasted better than the ones which we  had been getting previously and did, in fact, cost a little less, and can be delivered to us saving the necessity of going to pick them up. The walkers especially, some of whom seemed rather worn out, welcomed the savory sandwiches. A few people, somewhat abashedly, came back for a second  ‘dog, which we gladly gave although the guideline  called for one per person.  A few people asked for hotdogs without a bun, for dietary reasons I imagine. One family asked for hamburgers and would not settle for hotdogs, walking away determinedly. We set out a variety of condiments (which one wag dubbed ‘contaminants’) and, to my surprise, the sweet relish disappeared first.  The makeup of the crowd was skewed toward young folks and so the chopped onions, whick kids usually don’t much like, were less popular.

I was at a prayer meeting earlier this week and I had one of those experiences whereby a sense of unity and clarity comes to the fore, bringing confidence and hope that things which have been at odds and troublesome within now have been integrated. I’ve never had a good sense of spiritual community or communion. Most of my religious awareness, such as it was,  has always been about me myself cultivating the right kind of relationship with God, the Blessed Mother, the angels and the saints.  But this recent weekend I very much more felt like I was in union with the people around me and untold numbers of others not present, in their families and associations as well as in my own.

I had been watchinga number of  TV presentations about St. Padre Pio and I think my mind switched over from its usual way of of seeing everything through my own individual viewpoint and instead seeing me as just a member of a wide communality, similar to the way the Saint was caringly aware of all the needs and trials of the people who cried out to him. As I sat in the prayer group I looked about at the twenty or so other members and saw each one as a partner in a benign awareness of God’s realm.  About the same time a parade of my relatives, friends and acquaintances passed through my mental notice and I quickly prayed or wished well for each one, almost as though I had a rubber stamp or magic wand that made praying for them brisk and efficient.

The frame of mind hasn’t lingered since, although a memory of it persists and my general outlook has changed a little, as I realize that there is a better way of focusing on His Kingdom with a sense of the importance of others, keeping them in the awareness of who is involved.

Our church has Confessions Saturday mornings after Mass. Usually I sit in my pew and read a little bit and pray before I get up and go to get into the Confession line, so there will be a few people ahead of me in line.  Actually, I often notice that a few people start queuing up by heading to the Confession line directly from receiving Holy Communion instead of returning to their places in the pews. But this morning, by some fluke, after sitting for some moments after Mass ended, I went over by the confessional and surprisingly, there was no line. A physician friend of mine was standing nearby, talking on his cellphone. I took my place where the line always forms.  My doctor friend came over and got behind me, so I said “You go first. You were here already.”  But no, he chose to remain behind me.

After a few minutes the priest came along and entered the confessional, turned on the light and settled down.  My friend nudged me to go ahead and get started.  I went over, stepped in, and asked Father if he was ready. He said he was, so I sat right down to begin, but no, out of the corner of my eye I glimpsed that I had left the confessional door open,  being thrown off routine by being first in line and stopping to ask if all was in readiness.  Father kindly told me to close the door.

Then I couldn’t remember all the things I had decided to confess, and began to hem and haw, saying that there was something else but I couldn’t remember it.  Amused, he absolved me anyway.

My age must be catching up with me. It reminds me of the joke that goes “Do you ever think of the  ‘Here After’?”  “Yes, I often enter a room for some reason, but then have to stop and ask myself  “What am I here after?!”

I got an email yesterday from an old friend telling me she had just published a book about her career as a radio disc jockey in Chicago.*  I’m a different person now than the shy guy who ran a small fan club for her years ago, writing an occasional  newsletter,  going to her personal appearances, and trying to catch every show and every entertaining word she broadcast.  I’m sure she’s a different person now too, for I know she has since become an accomplished portrait painter and also has some real estate interests.

I got to thinking how, just as she has compiled an account of her career some years after it unfolded,  so too Jesus’ “career” was only recorded decades after the years of His ministry.  To have the events and their significance written down in autobiography or Scripture,  some years after they transpired lends a kind of  larger than life ‘That Was Then, This Is Now’ perspective to them.  My friend’s book, published in 2009, has a feature not available to the Evangelists — she has crammed it with pictures.  I’m not sure pictures from Jesus’ time would enhance the New Testament.

*Top Rock Girly Jock by Connie Szerszen

Every day each serious Catholic does something to be proud of, and something that went badly (in the light of Christ). At least! Maybe, actually, six or eight or eighty things of both kind. But probably a single one stands out at the end of the day, for instance at the time of examination of conscience. (Not examining the conscience at the end of the day is a good example of something going badly.)  Many  of us bloggers post things which give a glimpse into our everyday lives, others don’t feel comfortable doing anything like that. The latter could do as the callers to talk shows do, present an account as though it involves ‘a friend’.

Yesterday I was told by my teaching partner in the 5th grade catechist program to report at 2 pm for fingerprinting (an established routine here to weed out bad apples from contact with children and other vulnerable people). When I got to the office, no one was there, so I went to another office, vaguely remembering that the other office had been mentioned at one time as the place where the fingerprinting was done. When I inquired there the lady told me I had to have a bunch of preliminary things done before I could come for fingerprinting. I was somewhat frustrated, and a little bit angry at getting something of a run-around. Why was I told to report when nothing was in readiness?

I wasn’t proud or myself, but I think I did pretty well, remaining civil to that lady and not being angry at her, even though I probably was rather curt and distant. Anyway, I went back to the first office and finally was able to do what was intended.

It’s the old problem of having  irritation at the disparity between expectations and reality. For the person with a well developed virtue of humility, such irritation wouldn’t arise, and it would be a snap to take unexpected things in stride.