Category Archives: Critical Mass

Year of the Priest

Obviously, this is going to be the Best Year Ever!!!! πŸ™‚

I am so excited and my heart is so full of squee! πŸ™‚ I have been doing the happy dance in anticipation of this day, this year, since I first heard about it. I cannot wait to see all of the great things which are going to come out.

We have heard so many awful things about our priests, so much doubt and venom, all aimed at tearing them down. After the Fr. CutiΓ© incident, I heard many people either stating that celibacy was an antiquated and unnecessary practice, or that it didn’t really matter that he decided to leave the Catholic church, among other things. My purpose in writing this is not really to debate that issue, although I could, but rather to focus on what is important.

Sure, there are going to be times when this priest or that priest is in the news. Sure, some of them are actually going to have done something scandalous. Not all of them. Their lives have a level of scrutiny most of us do not have to deal with. I would pray that if we come across something, that our reaction not first be offense or judgment, but love. Don’t condemn these people, pray for them!

Our society revels in tearing people down. It loves to show everyone else as being corrupt and dirty. Instead, we should be building people up. We should recognise that they fall, yes, but instead of rubbing their face in it, causing them shame and making a spectacle, we should be there to stretch out our hands and help them back to their feet. We are all in this race together, and the point is to make it home. We all stumble and we all fall.

I live with the conviction that our priests are good men. These are our beloved brothers. They, as so recently pointed out, have chosen to give their lives in service to us. They have chosen to be ontologically conformed to a man who was nailed to a cross — for us. If we find it heroic that a person, in a moment of crisis will give his life for another person, what about a person who routinely, every day, gives his life for another person? And, usually, without notice or thanks.

We need to support these men. We need to be behind them. No one operates in a vacuum. We are the body of Christ. All the cells of the body work fundamentally on an osmotic or diffusionary principle. Where there is great abundance of a substance, it goes to the area of the greatest need for that substance. You get sick when there is a disruption in this mechanism. The body of Christ needs to work the same way. Whatever abundance you have, you should be seeking to distribute that abundance to the place where it is most needed. A healthy body lives in continual interchange between all the different cells. So, too, does a healthy society need to have a continual interchange. There is always something that you have to offer, and there is always something which you need to receive from someone else. Perfection is not a static condition, but a continually changing state — always rebalancing. This is how we grow and adapt — and thrive.

[To be continued/edited…]

Take Nothing for Granted

Last night, my brother came over, which was great. I don’t get to see him all that often. He stayed until about 12:15 am, when I finally had to go to bed, so that I’d be able to get up this morning. About 3 am or so, my roommate woke up and was violently ill. Poor girl — I hate being sick like that. I got up and gave her some baking soda water to try and calm her stomach, then tried to lay back down for a little while.

Of course, then I overslept. I ran around and figured that I’d at least attempt to make the very end of Mass, even though I don’t like walking in late. I pulled into the parking lot about 6:50. Mass always goes at least until 6:58. People were already leaving. How strange. As I walk in, a friend was walking out, so I asked her if Mass got out early today. She said that no priest ever showed up.

“Are they okay??” I ask, worried now. This is not typical.

She shrugs, “They probably just slept in.”

True, that’s most likely what happened, but what if something happened and someone’s really hurt or ill or had to go to the hospital??

So, I went into the chapel and prayed, prayed, prayed.

Then, I thought about what the other people might think, who also go to the 6:30 am Mass. I was concerned that they might be upset with the priests, and I prayed for their understanding and forgiveness, too.

I prayed for all the people who don’t get to go to Mass every day; for the priest shortage; for the upcoming Year of the Priest.

I prayed for Fr. John. I prayed that he was okay and that nothing bad happened that he had to take care of. I prayed that whoever had not made it to Mass, that they were okay and that they wouldn’t get too upset at themselves for missing (if it was a sleeping-in kind of thing). I prayed that Fr. John wouldn’t get too mad at whoever missed Mass. I prayed that (if it were a sleeping-in kind of thing) our priests weren’t working themselves too hard. I prayed that if they needed the extra sleep that God would heal them in mind and body and refresh them. I prayed that they would have stamina and endurance and be able to fulfill all the tasks which God calls them to. I prayed to the Blessed Mother to take care of her sons, to protect them and to care for them.

I prayed and I worried. I said things like, “God, I trust You that everything will be okay, but please, please keep him safe!”

I went to Starbucks to get my morning coffee, and on the way back decided to stop by the church again — to see if anyone had showed up for the 8 am Mass. On the way back, I was praying for him to be okay, and alternately thanking God that he *was* okay. Which was a little bizarre. I got to the church, and Fr. John’s car was there, so I was a little relieved. I gathered up the toys I had to give him and went inside and waited for a little while, but didn’t see him. I snuck down to the church proper, and saw him sitting on the far side, praying. I didn’t want to bother him, and it was getting late, so I left to go to work.

I’m glad he made it in. That something’s not grossly wrong, but I still pray that he is okay and not sick or overly tired or facing any big problems. May the Blessed Mother continue to care for him.

I was running **really** late for work now. So much that I knew that if I parked in the commuter lot and waited for the bus, I would be definitely late. So, I had to park in the structure. That’ll be $10 for the day. Ouch. But I’m glad that I at least know that he made it to church. I hope that if it was Fr. Lee who was to say Mass this morning, that he also is okay.

Worry. Pray. Worry. Pray. Whew! Caring for priests is a hard job! πŸ™‚

Just Another Walk Around the Block

During dinner, I felt like talking a walk. It’s getting late, about 9:30 pm or so, but it would be nice to stop by the playground and swing on the swings for a bit before going to bed. So, I grabbed my iPod and left the house. As always, even as I am dancing and running and walking my way to the park, my mind wanders.

I have someone whom God has asked me to intercede for, to care for, and to love as He loves, so as to learn love as He loves. No small task, but one I cherish. God doesn’t burden you with vocations, He blesses you with them. As my mind is wandering, it wanders over to this topic — which is really not that surprising to me.

Would I protect this person?
Yes, of course, from everything I can which is harmful.

Would I give my life for this person?
Absolutely.

Why?
Because it is my job. To care for this person. And my caring does not stop at my prayers.
I am willing to do whatever God asks of me.
And God is good.
If God truly asks that I lay down my life, it is His.
Without question.
Without hesitation.

God loves me.
Whatever death, pain, suffering might come my way, God can handle.
I just need to get out of the way of His healing.
God loves me.

Nothing else matters.
He has me.
He loves me.
I trust Him.

This is a fight.
Truly, we are the church militant, right? There is danger. There are threats. We need to be strong. We need to protect each other.
He is asking if I will fight for this person that He gave me.
Absolutely.

The best part.
I am not alone.
He’s not asking that I do this alone.
Angels.
Seriously. Angels are in this fight right alongside us.

My Lord, my love, I am here.
Take whatever You want.
Use me however You want.
Help me to do Your will.

I am not afraid.
God loves me.

Not bad for a walk, eh? πŸ™‚

Father

D r i v e s s l o o o o w w w w w w w w w . . . .
Oh, wait. No, that’s the speed limit. Huh. Haven’t seen that in a while…. πŸ™‚

It wasn’t “tailgating,” it was . . . “drafting.” I was conserving . . . gas . . . to . . . go green? πŸ™‚

Redemptive Suffering: Our Gift to the Father

From Volume One: Directions for Our Times as given to Anne, a lay apostle: Thoughts on Spirituality:

Think of Jesus’ Passion as a big present. I mean the biggest you can imagine. As big as a house. It is wrapped in the most precious gold paper, with exquisite bows and garlands around it. The gift is so beautiful it takes eternity to walk around it, study it, and admire it. There are countless different facets of this gift. The study of it will indeed take your lifetime, and much longer.

Now say you want to emulate that gift. Do you have the power, the technology, the creativity to come close? Not on your best day, of course. You were not intended to create that glorious a gift. But this big gift is going to your dad, so you want to enclose some well wishes too. So you get a little gift and you wrap it up in the closest thing to the gold paper you can find. And you set your little gift at the foot of the big one. That is uniting your suffering’s to Christ’s. When your Father sees the gift, from His beloved child, does He say, “What a little gift. How puny it looks next to this big one?” Hardly. He smiles, like any father, and His heart is moved to all manner of generosity by your love and effort. His heart is gladdened. This is uniting your suffering to Christ [41-42].

Adam Thad Riviera

Adam Thad Riviera

Adam Thad Riviera, of Troy, died peacefully, May 17, 2009, at William Beaumont Hospital in Troy. He was 21 years old. Adam was born October 1, 1987, in Detroit.

Adam is survived by his parents, Michael and Helen Riviera, sister, Tara (Mark) Moore and brother, Michael Riviera. He is also survived by his grandparents, Paul and Lina Riviera and Margaret Witczak and his aunts and uncles, Gus and Monica Reis and Frank and Theresa Riviera. Adam is preceded in death by his grandfather, Thaddeus Witczak.

Funeral Mass will be at St. Anastasia Roman Catholic Church, 4571 John R., Troy, Friday at 11:30am. Friends may visit at the church beginning at 11am. Visitation at Lynch & Sons Funeral Home, 1368 N. Crooks Road (between 14-15 Mile Rds.) Thursday 3-8pm. Prayer service will be at 7pm.

Memorials appreciated to St. Anastasia Church, 4571 John R., Troy, Michigan 48098.

Please Pray for Adam

I got this message late last night:

PRAYER WARRIORS,
I JUST GOT OFF THE PHONE WITH ADAM’S MOM. HE HAD THE WORST DAY SINCE I’VE KNOWN HIM. HE WAS TAKEN TO BEAUMONT AGAIN EARLY TUESDAY MORNING,WHEN I SAW HIM AROUND NOON HE WAS REALLY WIPED OUT AND COULDNT STAY AWAKE OR CARRY A CONVERSATION. TODAY HE WAS COMPLETELY UNRESPONSIVE AND HAD A SEIZURE. THEY SAY HE HAS SWELLING ON THE BRAIN AND THEY SEE SOMETHING?
AS MANY OF YOU KNOW THIS ALL STARTED AFTER ADAM WAS BAPTIZED AND CAME INTO THE CHURCH EASTER 08. HE IS 21. PLEASE CONTINUE TO UPHOLD HIM AND HIS MOM [HELEN] DAD [MICHAEL] UP IN PRAYER.
ONE SEES MORE CLEARLY THROUGH A TEAR THAN A TELESCOPE. GOD BLESS! STEVE

Love you, Adam. Get better! (That’s an imperative statement by the way!)

Happy Updates: Prayer Works!

A little while back, I posted, asking all of you to pray for Henry, who was born 2 months premature.
(Original postings here and here)

As you can see, Henry is doing well, getting big, and already digging into those ham sandwiches! πŸ™‚
(Okay, okay, the photo is staged… but still….)
Henry Inspecting Ham Sandwich

Thank you so much for your prayers! Prayer really does work! Praise God! πŸ™‚

The Blood of Christ

A friend e-mailed me, asking if I would serve as Eucharistic minister this weekend in her place, which I gladly accepted. I arrived early to sign up for a spot, but when I arrived, all the “bread” positions were taken (why they call it “bread” and “cup,” I have no idea, because we only go up into the sanctuary after consecration, so shouldn’t they be “Body” and “Blood” positions?).

I have only ever given out the Body of Christ, and ever since that first lecture in RCIA when Fr. John was speaking about dropping the host or spilling the consecrated wine, I have been terrified of doing either. I am still concerned when holding the Body of Christ, but, as a non-liquid, He is less . . . wiggly . . . in this way than the Blood. That, and I have nightmare daydreams about little kids grabbing the cup from me and spilling.

When I saw that I would be doing a “cup” position for the first time, I was kind of freaking out. After all, it wasn’t my choice to be a Blood minister. I had thought that eventually I would choose to try being a Blood minister (okay, there’s gotta be a better term for this) . . . you know, when I was ready. I told several of the other Eucharistic ministers with me that this was my first time — looking for reassurance. They were all very nonchalant about it, so I was left unvalidated in my fear. Adding to my sense of unease was the fact that I had been listening to the Bible on CD on the way in to church, and I was in the middle of Leviticus, where they are talking about splashing the blood on the altar. Which I really didn’t want to do today.

I was doubting my abilities to adequately protect Him until He was safely consumed and united with the faithful. Silly me, right? I mean, obviously, Jesus can take care of Himself. But, you know, I worry anyway. So, I was praying about this — trying to ignore my fear and trust that God wouldn’t have anything bad happen.

Then came the homily. Our associate pastor was the one celebrating this Mass; however, our pastor came out to tell us of a situation in the archdiocese which has recently become public. As I reflected on the matter, I was made even more aware of the significance to me of being the one who would be providing access to people to the Blood of Christ. Because it is the Blood of Christ which washes away our sins and effects our reconciliation with God. True, that we receive the Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity of Jesus under either/both species; however, it is a stronger sign (for me anyway) in drinking of His Blood.

I felt, particularly at this time, that it was a time where everyone affected — our parish, the archdiocese — needed to be immersed in Christ. It was a time for reconciliation, healing, and most of all, for love. Whatever the truth of the matter, there are two people directly involved — both of which are hurt — and many other people indirectly hurt. This really hits home demonstrating the devastating effects of sin and how sin is a community affair — not limited to the involved parties.

I pray for God’s will to be done in regards to the situation, for His healing hand to be on the minds and hearts of everyone affected, and that the Holy Spirit works within us all so that we can love, show love and be love to all those who need it — especially in this matter. I pray that this will not divide us as a community. I pray that we will continue to have faith and trust, and leave the judging in His hands.

I do feel that I have a particular vocation, and it sometimes expands in scope, and I believe that in this case it includes this situation. Please pray for my compassion, empathy and strength, and the capacity for rendering whatever aid God asks of me.

So, I felt blessed to be able to participate in this way, in this specific Mass, being entrusted with the Precious Blood of our Lord. Somehow, it all tied together perfectly for me in a way which confirmed to me God’s presence. As was very recently pointed out to me, I am in His hands always — and that goes for every single one of us.

Sorry to be so vague.

— In His Love