Holding A Grudge for Dummies

As far as the east is from the west,

so far has he put our transgressions from us.

As a father has compassion on his children,

so the LORD has compassion on those who fear him

The story began on April 22, 1990.  My mother was in the hospital and underwent surgery for lung cancer.  She came through the surgery as well as could be expected.  Going into the game we knew what the ultimate outcome would be, there was no hope, she had terminal cancer and the surgery was done to buy her some more time.  My two sisters and my brother arrived at the hospital at 9:00 AM to be with Mom until the surgery was scheduled at 11:00 AM.  We arrived on her floor and were amazed to see her on a gurney in the corridor, the surgery had been moved up.  We got there just in the nick of time to give her our love and to let her know that we were pulling for her.  Then began the waiting, one hour, two hours, the time dragged on. Finally, the surgeon came and told us that she had come through the surgery fine and he had done what he could to extend her time on earth. We thanked the doctor and were taken to intensive care where my mother was on a ventilator but awake and alert. She smiled as her children gathered around her and she happily responded to questions using a dry erase board that they had given her.   We were all relieved and assumed that we would have Mom with us for the year that the surgeon promised.  We all visited her the next day and she was a little less okay, more distant.  I could not visit on April 24th and on the 25th Mom's eyes were open, but she no longer wrote on the dry erase board.  After some time, she closed her eyes and stopped responding to us and at 7:11 PM my mother went home to the Lord. We celebrated her life at a Mass that following Saturday and she was sent to be cremated as was her wish. 

I was walking around in a daze.  this was not supposed to happen, we had been given a year.  The very fact that Mom was dead was a great wrong, she was only sixty-four when she died.  She died because of bad doctoring, and I do not mean the surgeon.  Mom worked for a doctor and part of her compensation was free medical care.  The doctor she worked for provided the absolute minimum in care and in doing so misdiagnosed the cancer that eventually killed Mom.  She provided her with a salve to put on a growth on my mother's shoulder.  It got no better and after six months Mom went to another doctor friend who immediately diagnosed cancer and had the growth removed but it was too late.  The disease had spread to her lungs during the six months on non-caring care that she had received.  

The funeral was a typical Catholic funeral. The Church did her job and offered prayers for my mother's soul.  For the next six months, I was in the grip of a great depression.  I held in my heart a great and bitter hatred for the doctor that cared so little that she did so little and in effect murdered my mother almost as if she took a gun and shot her. My life was in disarray.  I could not concentrate and went through the motions of life.  Then one day I came to the realization that while I was morose and in pain, the doctor that caused it was fat and happy and practicing her trade not bothering to think of what she had done.  Then it happened.  I passed a Catholic Church and the God of the Universe inside the tabernacle reached out to me and I forgave the doctor who caused my mother and me so much pain.  At that moment, through the grace of God, I came back to life.  

Since that time I cannot hold a grudge.  I forgave the person that murdered my mother, what else could someone do that would allow me to keep them in bondage? 

Every so often I trot this story out because I think it is important to remember that we have been forgiven much by God and we are called to forgive as well.  I write this as a reminder to myself. 

Tuesday of Holy Week - Betrayal

Reclining at table with his disciples, Jesus was deeply troubled and testified,

"Amen, amen, I say to you, one of you will betray me."

I don't think that there is anything more painful to the human heart than an act of betrayal.  What makes betrayal so painful is that it is an act of a friend.  A person who does not know you cannot betray you. We all have been the victim of betrayal in our lives.  When I was a seventh grader, my friend Dennis and I went over to McKinley Park, a beautiful place when I was a kid, it was filled with bicycle paths, playgrounds, and a lagoon that you could actually catch fish at. This, of course, was in warm weather.  My friend and I were going to the park on a day when only fools and idiots were out of doors as it was very cold. We had a purpose in mind.  The cold snap would have frozen the lagoon solid and we wanted to take some time to explore the three islands that were on this man-made lake.  And so we did.  It turned out that these three little islands were nothing very special, a fact which we took note of and started to use the ice for its native purpose, sliding.  All in all, it was a lot of fun for a couple young boys on a cold and blustery Chicago winter weekend.  At one end of the park was the "inlet" that kept the water fresh.  The inlet was not a spring, it was a pipe that poured fresh Lake Michigan water into the lagoon to prevent it from becoming a stinking swamp in the summer months.  We gravitated towards this pipe because even though it was freezing cold, there were six feet of liquid water surrounding the pipe.  We got to the edge of the ice and my friend pointed at something and I bent low to see what it was.  The next thing I knew I was under the water. The icy water made me gasp and I was out air quickly.  God was with me at that moment because I did not panic and thrash about so I stayed near the hole.  I remember seeing the ice from the bottom with the weak sunlight lighting it up.  I struggled and pushed myself up and my friend's arm pulled me out and deposited me on the ice like a walrus.  I began immediately to shiver. My friend found it all hilarious and called me a clumsy oaf.  My lips were blue and I knew I could not walk the two miles back to my home but luckily my Uncle John lived not too far from the park.  My friend said he had to go home and turned and left me shivering and freezing to death on the ice.  I trudged off the ice and walked to my uncle's house which, luckily, was only two blocks away. My uncle provided me with warm clothes and hot chocolate and called his brother to come and pick me up.  Later, I learned that my friend, Dennis, was bragging and laughing about how foolish I looked after he pushed me into the lagoon.  That was the first time in my life I felt betrayed and it hurt. It hurt badly.  If you think back, I am sure that you will remember a time when a friend turned on you.  How did it feel? 

Judas Iscariot was a friend of Jesus. He was one of the twelve picked to be His special friends, His Apostles.  These would be the men He entrusted his kingdom, his Church on earth to.  Judas was an important Apostle. He had charge of the money.  He saw to needed purchases and made sure that the charity people offered were put to good use.  He may have also kept a bit for himself, at least there were suspicions that he did so but Jesus did nothing when it was brought to His attention.  This emboldened Judas and he began to think that if he could get away with stealing from the common purse, then how could Jesus be the Messiah, the Son of God?  Judas could see the writing on the wall.  He could tell that the Pharisees were baiting Jesus and were just waiting for him to make a single wrong step. If Jesus were to be arrested, so would anyone close to him unless that person had a special relationship with the high priest.  Judas decided to sell Jesus to His enemies.  Of course, once Jesus was arrested he could keep the common purse because it was money belonging to a criminal.  Inwardly, Judas was delighted with his plan.  Outwardly he continued to pretend that he was a faithful follower of Jesus.  When the time came, he received all that he had hoped for. He got the donations, he got thirty pieces of silver, the cost of an unskilled slave, and he was immune from prosecution because he had turned Jesus in.  In the end, he realized his betrayal cost him a lot more than he had received.  He could have asked Jesus for forgiveness and he would be forgiven.  Instead, he gave in to despair and committed suicide.

We all like to think that had we been around in the time of Jesus we would have been faithful followers of Christ. Back then, being a Christian brought with it dangers of death. Would we have become martyrs for our faith of would we have offered incense to the emperor's statue? 

Today, in America, we do not risk death for being a follower of Christ. But are we afraid to show we are Christians?  The America we live in is hostile to Christian ways. We can lose friends and esteem if we point out things that are wrong.  But if we fail to do this we are just like Judas in that we are trying to make friends with those who are in power who may hate Jesus and His Church. We cannot choose to be an undercover Christian. To do so would be a betrayal that would make Judas's betrayal seem mild in comparison. 

As we approach the end of our Lenten journey, let us look at where we have missed the mark, where we have sinned.  Forgiveness is just one reception of the sacrament of Reconciliation away.  If you haven't been to it in years, so what?  Tell the priest and he will help you along.  Our sins are betrayals of the One that loves us. We can ignore them and sign on to follow the world or we can face them, confess them, and receive forgiveness.  We can be Judas who betrayed and died or we can be Peter who betrayed and lived.  The choice is up to us. 

Lent Day 3 - Sin and the gnashing of Teeth

Psalm 51

Have mercy on me, O God, in your goodness;

in the greatness of your compassion wipe out my offense.

Thoroughly wash me from my guilt

and of my sin cleanse me.

R. A heart contrite and humbled, O God, you will not spurn.

For I acknowledge my offense,

and my sin is before me always:

"Against you only have I sinned,

and done what is evil in your sight."

R. A heart contrite and humbled, O God, you will not spurn.

For you are not pleased with sacrifices;

should I offer a burnt offering, you would not accept it.

My sacrifice, O God, is a contrite spirit;

a heart contrite and humbled, O God, you will not spurn.

R. A heart contrite and humbled, O God, you will not spurn.

Whatever happened to sin?  Do we sin anymore?  I don't think that we sin any less!  Sin has disappeared from our conscious thought and escapes our attention.  When I was a boy, my sins were always before my eyes,  This was because I was in the charge of God's most cherished employees, the Sisters of St. Joseph.  They made sure that we, meaning the boys in the class, were always aware of our sins. Oh, sometimes a girl would be caught doing something wrong, but it just was not in their nature to go against sister's wishes. Once in sixth grade, I had sinned most grievously.  I pointed out to sister that she had picked only her favorites for speaking parts in the class play.   Sister Margaret Jean was not one to suffer such brashness and insubordination quietly.  I guess that she turned her other cheek for some things and not for others.  I was quickly and efficiently dealt with.  She just about flew over to where I was standing, you never, ever, spoke to a sister while your butt was in contact with a chair.  She grabbed me and placed me out in the hall facing the wall.  Then for next several weeks, while the other kids went to practice her play, I got to stand in the hallway facing the wall until they came back.  The finishing touch, meant to put me in my place, was that she gave me a "D" in school spirit on my report card.  To show you how rare that was, it was once thought that to get a "D" in school spirit, you had to be caught with bottles of gasoline with rags stuck in the necks and a lighted match in hand ready to burn down the school.  Going against the "Teacher's Pet" system was almost as serious.

A sin of any type comes between God and us.  If you think of the punishment of the rebellious angels was when St. Michael, my patron saint, by the way, swept them from heaven into hell, the major part of their punishment was forever being unable to see God.  There was a barrier placed between them and God.  This barrier caused great sorrow.When we sin, we too create a barrier between us and God.  If we sin in a minor way the barrier is not total.  If we commit a major act of rebellion the wall we build shields us from the Face of God.  If we die with this wall in place, our choice becomes permanent and God will honor our choice to be without Him in eternity.  A preacher once was preaching about sin and hell and he yelled out, "And there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth!" A voice of an old lady in the back of the church piped up and said, "But pastor, I don't have any teeth."  Without missing a beat the pastor replied, "Teeth will be provided !" 

I might be dead wrong about this but I think we have lost or sense of sin. In the olden days, especially during Lent, the lines at the confessionals were long.  Today, not so much.  I got myself in trouble on the Catholic Answers forum once.  I mentioned in a reply to another member's question that I thought the sacrament of confession was underused by Catholics today.  I was given a "major violation" and was told that it was none of my business if someone went to confession or not.  The self-righteous moderator missed the whole point of what I was saying.  I no longer participate in Catholic Answers forum because of this but my contention still is that the sacrament of penance is underused today.

Lent is a time to clean up the cobwebs that have gathered in our soul. But confessing to a priest, can't I go directly to God and ask for forgiveness?  Of course, you can and it is a brilliant first step. But the way Christ wants us to do it is to confess to Him through the priest who is acting in persona Christi. You see, sin is not a private matter between you and God.  We are all part of the Body of Christ and any sin, no matter how private, hurts the Body and needs to be healed. But, you say, "It's been years since I last went!"  So what? Mention that to your confessor and he will be even more gentle with you because he knows how hard this is for you.  Oh, the act of confession was never meant to be easy.  It is a very humbling experience to be in confession and to give voice to what God already knows.  Getting it out on the table is the first step in getting your imperfection healed.  Do not be afraid of seeing who you really are.  Remember, what we are is how God sees us and he sees us, imperfect as we are, and loves us anyway.  Whisper to God and listen for His reply.  His reply to you, the prodigal son or daughter, will always be, "I love you, welcome home!"