Six-year-old Andrew Bateson came down with bacterial
meningitis, an aggressive disease that almost cost the little boy his life.
In order to save Andrew, doctors had to amputate his legs where the
disease had destroyed his circulatory system. Andrew was devastated
when he discovered what had happened to him; Andrew couldn’t
understand why he couldn’t have his “old legs back”.
His mother, Rebecca, wasn’t doing much better. She tried to keep
up a positive disposition for her son—but she wondered how Andrew
would handle the next chapter.
And she felt betrayed—betrayed by God.
After months of agonizing rehabilitation with his new prosthetic
legs, Andrew finally went home.
Then one night at supper, out of nowhere, Andrew said, “I saw
God, Mommy. I was sleeping at the hospital. He put his arms out, and
I thought he was going to give me a hug. But instead he just touched
me on the shoulder”.
His mother steeled herself. “Did God say anything?”
“No, he was just….there”.
A chill ran down his mother’s spine. Rebecca writes: “[God] was
just there. What did that mean? I looked at Andrew, wolfing down his
dinner. For months I had seen a handicapped child, a damaged child,
fighting as hard as he could, failing more often than succeeding in his
rehab. Falling down, unable to master his new legs. Yet, unlike me,
never turning bitter, never giving up. “I’m going to walk, I’m going to
ride my bike”, he’d insist, “You just watch”.
And Rebecca realized: “Andrew came through this better that I
have. He was moving on. I was stuck in my bitterness and sense of
betrayal…Had God been there all along for me too, and I was just too
angry to see? Was he there for me now? Lord, thank you for being
with Andrew. Be with me now, too”.
In closing, remember this: The Risen Christ is here, in our midst,
in the love of family and friends, in the care of doctors and nurses, in
the support of pastors and ministers, in the wisdom of teachers and
counselors. The disciples on the road to Emmaus finally realize his
presence in the breaking of bread; Rebecca finally grasps God’s
presence in the unshakable, determined faith of her little boy. Every
one of us has traveled the road the two disciples walked on Easter night;
many of us have made the journey that Andrew and his mom and dad
traveled. It is the road of deep disappointment, sadness, despair, anger.
But God assures us, in his Easter promise, that along those roads he will
make himself known to us. If our eyes are open, we will meet him in
his Christ: in the compassion and generosity of others, in the breaking
of bread and the healing touch of the sacraments, in the grace and
wisdom of his Spirit in our midst. May our hearts and consciences
always be open to behold the presence of Christ, our guest and
companion along the many roads we walk to our own Emmauses.
His mother asked, “Did God say anything?” Andrew answered,
“No….He was just there”!
God Is There 4-23-2003
April 20th, 2023God’s Mercy 4-16-2023
April 15th, 2023A few years Pope Francis called a wonderful jubilee of mercy. I
was so excited when he did this and I really wanted to make it a special
year for myself and the people of the parish. What I had to do first, I
had to get a better understanding of what is mercy, exactly. To some
people’s modern ears it sounds like weak surrender or cheap forgiveness
or even worse, the self-satisfied flinging of a coin to a homeless person.
I did not want to let Pope Francis down so I began my search to
understand mercy better.
As I was looking I came across a definition of mercy by a Jesuit
priest name Fr. James F. Keenan. “Mercy” he says is the willingness to
enter into the chaos of another. This definition unlocked my
imagination, and I was immediately flooded with images and stories.
Mercy is the Holy Child Jesus Church community in Queens.
When a desperate mother left her newborn son in the church’s manger
scene in late November, multiple parish families stepped forward to
adopt him. “I think it’s beautiful,” Fr. Christopher Heanue, the church
administrator, said. “A church is a home for those in need, and she felt,
in this stable – a place where Jesus will find his home – a home for her
child.” Parishioners have two name suggestions for the baby: John,
because he came before Jesus to prepare the way; and Emanuel, which
means “God is with us.”
Mercy is the Intergenerational Learning Center at Providence
Mount St. Vincent in Seattle – a preschool inside a nursing home.
Through planned and spontaneous activities, the kids and the seniors
interact throughout the day, sharing in art projects, exercise, story time,
and more. Both the youngsters and the residents have a lot to offer one
another and a lot to receive.
Mercy is a mother who sleeps on the floor of her three year-old
son’s room at 2:00am because he thinks there are monsters in there.
Mercy is Oakland Athletics pitcher Sean Doolittle and his
girlfriend Eireann Dolan, who partnered with Chicago city government
officials to organize Thanksgiving dinner for the city’s 17 families of Syrian refugees last week. And mercy is the nonprofit organizations –
many of them Catholic – that have proclaimed “Refugees welcome” in
states were elected officials have threatened to close their doors.
Mercy is when a person returns to the Sacrament of Reconciliation
after decades, nervous as can be and embarrassed to have forgotten the
act of contrition, and the confessor responds with warmth, gentleness,
and bit of good humor.
Mercy is the hashtag #PorteOuverte, or “Open Door,” that scores of
Parisians used on the night of the terror attacks there to signal that they
would open their homes to anyone who needed shelter.
Mercy is Rosa’s Fresh Pizza in Philadelphia, where you can spend
an extra dollar to have a post-it put up on the wall. Homeless members
of the community are then welcome to come in to the shop and trade in a
post-it for a slice.
Mercy is the Gospel stories of the prodigal son, the woman caught
in adultery, Matthew the unscrupulous tax collector, and Peter the
denier. The forgiveness they receive does not condone them in their
selfishness. They are not condoned, but redeemed.
These images of mercy share some things in common. Each example
features the element of “willingness” that Keenan emphasizes. Instead
of avoiding or dismissing the chaos of another, these practitioners of
mercy move toward the chaos with creativity and boldness. They make
me wonder, “If we Catholics were 10 times bolder and more creative in
our practice of mercy than we are right now, how might things be
different?” Well, we’d probably have preschools in all our nursing
homes and refugees at all our family parties, for starters.
I close, Mercy the willingness to enter the chaos of another human
being. Thank you God for the mercy you show all of us.
Easter: “God Alive” 4-9-2023
April 8th, 2023We have all seen images from all around the world: the death and
devastation in the wake of earthquakes, floods, tsunami’s, and tornadoes.
We shake our heads in disbelief: How could God let such a thing
happen? Where was God for these people?
But in the darkness of such tragedy, listen to the angel of Easter
morning: Look beyond the stone; God is not entombed but very much
alive here. See the doctor who leaves his practice to travel half way
around the world to help care for the survivors? See the relief workers
who work night and day setting up clinics and camps, drilling fresh
water wells and rebuilding roads? See the churches and schools and
communities around the world who mobilize to collect money and
clothing and food and medicine? God is not buried in the rubble – God
is raised up in such compassion and generosity.
As the temperature hovers around zero, a fire destroys a city block.
Several people are killed, many are seriously hurt; scores of families are
suddenly homeless, everything they own lost in the blaze. We feel for their plight: How could God let this happen? Where was God for them
this night?
But in the ashes, the angel at the entrance of the tomb asks: Why
do you see God in the ruins? Didn’t you see the firefighter who risked
his life to save that five-year-old trapped on the sixth floor? Didn’t you
see the EMTs work miracles in treating the victims of burns and smoke
inhalation and rush to get them to hospitals? Didn’t you see the
volunteers who came with food and blankets, helping the homeless take
the first difficult steps in rebuilding their lives? God is not among the
ashes – God is alive in the selflessness and sacrifice exhibited this
horrible night.
War takes many forms and is waged in many places. Wars are
fought globally, nationally, and locally; wars are waged not only in
jungles and ravaged cities, on the streets of Salinas, Watsonville, Santa
Cruz, Aptos yes, even in Montery and Vatican City, but also in offices and
school yards, in kitchens and bedrooms. We cry: How can God let us
keep destroying one another? Where is God in the midst of such hatred
and violence, such greed and deceit?
But the angel of the empty tomb assures us: Don’t be afraid. God
walks among you in those who have dedicated their lives to the work of
peace, who empty themselves of their own wants and needs in order to
bring consolation and hope to others, who work tirelessly to tear down
walls of bigotry and build bridges across the divides of race and culture
and class, who find their joy seeking joy for another.
God lives, the angel assures us. God goes to meet you. Look –
and you will see God.
I close. Overwhelmed by the tragedies and devastation that
surround us, we can become mired in a Good Friday mindset: We shake
our heads and wonder how God the almighty Creator of all things can let
such evil befall this world. But Easter calls us to realize a much
different vision: God is not to be found in the tragedies that befall us or
the evil that entraps us; God is found in the love, compassion and
forgiveness God raises up in the hearts of those men and women whose
lives reflect God’s presence in our midst. God has raised up his
crucified Son, who walks among us in all that is good and right and
giving, in everyone and everything that transforms our world from
darkness to light, from despair to hope, from death to life. On this
Easter morning, may the stones of hurt and cynicism be rolled back from
our hearts and spirits, enabling us all to behold the Risen God before us.
Let us stand and profess our faith in God – alive and among us.
