Forgiveness

"I once picked up a woman from a garbage dump and she was burning with fever; she was in her last days and her only lament was: ‘My son did this to me.’ I begged her: You must forgive your son. In a moment of madness, when he was not himself, he did a thing he regrets. Be a mother to him, forgive him. It took me a long time to make her say: ‘I forgive my son.’ Just before she died in my arms, she was able to say that with a real forgiveness. She was not concerned that she was dying. The breaking of the heart was that her son did not want her. This is something you and I can understand."

The Feast of the Baptism of the Lord

Today we celebrate The Feast of the Baptism of the Lord, liturgically marking the end of the Christmas Season and the beginning of Ordinary time. The baptism of Jesus is another epiphany, another manifestation of his divine being.  The Incarnation and Epiphany announced the birth of Jesus to the world.  With his baptism, Jesus launched into public ministry; God the Father announced to the people of Jerusalem, "Judea, and the whole region around the Jordan"(Matthew 3: 5) that Jesus "is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased"(Matthew 3:17). 

The significance of the Christmas Season is that God loved us so much he sent his son, Emmanuel, to be one with us.  The significance of the Baptism is that Jesus embraced his humanity and united with all of us sinners even though he was sinless.  And, Jesus accepted his mission “to fulfill all righteousness” (Matt. 3:15).  In the first reading today, Isaiah 42:1-4, 6-7, the Prophet tells us how Jesus will fulfill all righteousness.  He will “bring forth justice to the nations.”  He will “open the eyes of the blind;” “bring out prisoners from confinement” and “from the dungeon” he will bring out “those who live in darkness.” 

Through our baptism, we share the mission of Jesus.  The Catechism of the Catholic Church teaches us that “Through Baptism we are freed from sin and reborn as sons of God; we become members of Christ, are incorporated into the Church and made sharers in her mission” (CCC 1213).  Jesus gave the Church (the disciples, and us) our mission, just before he ascended into Heaven, “Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you” (Matt 28:19–20).   This is an enormous task! Let us pray that the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit will give us the wisdom, strength and courage to get it done.

God our Father, 

with Jesus you call us to be

your beloved sons and daughters

and with him you give us the mission

to become humble and dedicated servants.

Grant that we may not break

those crushed by sin and sorrow.

Help us to serve always the cause of right, 

to be eyes to the blind

and a voice for the downtrodden.

May we please you in all we do.

We ask this in the name of Jesus the Lord.

Amen.

If

If you can keep your head when all about you

Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

But make allowance for their doubting too;

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,

Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,

And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;

If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

And treat those two impostors just the same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken

Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,

And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings

And never breathe a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,

If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,

Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,

And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!​

Lead, Kindly Light

Lead, Kindly Light, amidst th'encircling gloom,

Lead Thou me on!
The night is dark, and I am far from home,
Lead Thou me on!
Keep Thou my feet; I do not ask to see
The distant scene; one step enough for me.

I was not ever thus, nor prayed that Thou
Shouldst lead me on;
I loved to choose and see my path; but now
Lead Thou me on!
I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears,
Pride ruled my will. Remember not past years!

So long Thy power hath blest me, sure it still
Will lead me on.
O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till
The night is gone,
And with the morn those angel faces smile,
Which I have loved long since, and lost awhile!

Meantime, along the narrow rugged path,
Thyself hast trod,
Lead, Saviour, lead me home in childlike faith,
Home to my God.
To rest forever after earthly strife
In the calm light of everlasting life.

Subtle Messages

It is interesting to reflect on the Scripture readings which follow after Easter. In these readings, it is noted that those closest to Jesus while he was alive were not able to easily recognize him after the Resurrection. Surely those who knew and walked and talked and ate with Jesus should be able to see him more clearly.

I wonder what this says about the rest of us who sometimes struggle to see God in our daily lives. Perhaps we have to look with different eyes if we are to see God’s hand working in our lives. Perhaps the messages are more subtle than a Hollywood production of Seas parting and trumpets blaring.

Maybe there’s hope for us!!

In Times of Need

A Love Story

John Blanchard stood up from the bench, straightened his Army uniform, and studied the crowd of people making their way through Grand Central Station. He looked for the girl whose heart he knew, but whose face he didn't, the girl with the rose. His interest in her had begun thirteen months before in a Florida library. Taking a book off the shelf he found himself intrigued, not with the words of the book, but with the notes penciled in the margin. The soft handwriting reflected a thoughtful soul and insightful mind. In the front of the book, he discovered the previous owner's name, Miss Hollis Maynell. With time and effort, he located her address. She lived in New York City. He wrote her a letter introducing himself and inviting her to correspond.

The next day he was shipped overseas for service in World War II. During the next year and one month, the two grew to know each other through the mail. Each letter was a seed falling on a fertile heart. A romance was budding. Blanchard requested a photograph, but she refused. She felt that if he really cared, it wouldn't matter what she looked like. When the day finally came for him to return from Europe, they scheduled their first meeting - 7pm at the Grand Central Station in New York. "You'll recognize me," she wrote, "by the red rose I'll be wearing on my lapel."

At 7pm he was in the station looking for a girl whose heart he loved, but whose face he'd never seen. I'll let Mr. Blanchard tell you what happened: A young woman was coming toward me, her figure long and slim. Her blonde hair lay back in curls from her delicate ears; her eyes were blue as flowers. Her lips and chin had a gentle firmness, and in her pale green suit, she was like springtime come alive. I started toward her, entirely forgetting to notice that she was not wearing a rose. As I moved, a small, provocative smile curved her lips. "Going my way, sailor?" she murmured. Almost uncontrollably I made one step closer to her, and then I saw Hollis Maynell. She was standing almost directly behind the girl. A woman well past 40, she had graying hair tucked under a worn hat. She was more than plump, her thick-ankled feet thrust into low-heeled shoes. The girl in the green suit was walking quickly away. I felt as though I was split in two, so keen was my desire to follow her, and yet so deep was my longing for the woman whose spirit had truly companioned me and upheld my own.

And there she stood. Her pale, plump face was gentle and sensible, her gray eyes had a warm and kindly twinkle. I did not hesitate. My fingers gripped the small worn blue leather copy of the book that was to identify me to her. This would not be love, but it would be something precious, something perhaps even better than love, a friendship for which I had been and must ever be grateful.

I squared my shoulders and saluted and held out the book to the woman, even though while I spoke I felt choked by the bitterness of my disappointment. "I'm Lieutenant John Blanchard, and you must be Miss Maynell. I am so glad you could meet me; may I take you to dinner?" The woman's face broadened into a tolerant smile. "I don't know what this is about, son," she answered, "but the young lady in the green suit who just went by, she begged me to wear this rose on my coat. And she said if you were to ask me out to dinner, I should go and tell you that she is waiting for you in the big restaurant across the street. She said it was some kind of test!"

It's not difficult to understand and admire Miss Maynell's wisdom. The true nature of a heart is seen in its response to the unattractive. As someone once said: "Tell me whom you love and I will tell you who you are."