THE SMALLEST OF MIRACLES

The life of one may seem insignificant to another and ditto for the events in said life.  But when viewed with an uncommon vision, how wonderful those events can be!

A friend reminded me of this the other day.  She pointed out that when a hungry child begs, it does so with hope. And when a handout (particularly of the edible kind) answers that ‘prayer’, for that child it is a miracle.

Then take the events in my own not so insignificant life (that’s my opinion!).

A rat had found its way into my home thanks to the climbing frame of pipes outside my window.  I did my best to evict it, but all efforts at polite persuasion failed to work.   I turned to the Lord – the rat may be part of God’s creation but it is one part that I could do without. I told Him so. And then the ‘trap’, which had not worked till my fervent plea, held my furry enemy within its sticky grip. I offered thanks and got the watchman to place the rat in its rightful place in the food chain (yes, my opinion again).

When it rains heavily, one room is awash thanks to some destructive repair work.  I get down on hands and knees and change the ‘flood’ to ‘merely damp floor’ and offer thanks that I am still limber enough to grapple with the task.  Then it rained heavily for two consecutive days and I sent up an ‘admonition’ – how much strenuous exercise is a little old lady supposed to indulge in? Yes, the room remained bone dry! A miracle? For me, definitely!

I was raised to be polite and I believe in saying ‘Thank You’.  Pouring rain is however quite a deterrent to stepping out even to visit the House of God.  I rose, I ‘shined’ and donned my waterproof, with a little bit of ‘should I, shouldn’t I’ turning over in my mind.  The pour turned to a drip! Just for me? I guess so and for all those others who turned up for morning Mass - a time to share praise and worship, expectation and thanks. A time of reinforced faith in a time that breeds despair.

The smallest, most insignificant of positives can add up to make one realise that miracles happen when we pray.  Dare we ask for even bigger things? Like ‘peace’? Like ‘no child hungry’? Like ‘a love that makes the whole world one family’?

I dare! How about you?

GIVE ME SIGHT, LORD!

He is a young priest and I am, sometimes, privileged to hear his Mass.  I look forward to his homily – always an unusual take on the day’s Gospel.  He makes me think.  His words are not palliative or passive, and they sometimes (most times!) bring home unwelcome truths.  Even so, hearing them makes the Gospel come wholly alive. 

Yesterday, Jesus cured the blind man.  But first he asked, ‘What do you want me to do for you?’ Huh? Jesus is God; surely, He knows that the man is asking for sight? And yet he asks the question! He wants to know whether the man has thought of the consequences. Sightless, he invoked pity and could beg for alms.  Sighted, he would have to work and pull his weight.  When we pray and ask for what we desire, do we think of the consequences? Are we willing to take on the consequent challenge? Ouch!

Previous takes on this Gospel reading always taught that Jesus hears prayers, Jesus heals.  Yes, we know that.  Yesterday’s homily woke me up and how.  Here’s the result!

GIVE ME SIGHT, LORD!

Lord, I want to see.

Will you not restore my sight?

            Do you know what you ask?

Yes, Lord!

I ask for sight that I may see

The glorious dawn and sunset,

The moods of the skies as they unfold,

The crest of waves as they break upon the shore -

The glory of all your creation!

            But will you also see the abandoned child,

            The battered woman,

            The homeless man?

            Will ‘seeing’ help you understand?

Give me sight Lord!

I have never known

The myriad hues of flowers,

Or seen the flutter of a bird’s wings;

The anger of the storm,

Or delight on the face of my beloved.

            But will you also see the anguish

            Of a war torn world;

            The desperate outstretched hand…

            Will ‘seeing’ help you understand?

I have felt the earth and know its scent;

But I have never seen its fruit,

Or watched life unfurl

From within its warm embrace:

Will you not let me see, Lord?

Will you not have mercy?

            Mercy is yours and also sight.

            Now, will you work for honest wage

            And share the yield?

            Will you labour in my field?

           

Lord, how could I be so blind?

Or, so selfish be…..

Give me your sight Lord

That I might truly see!

GETHSEMANE . . .

(I wrote this many years ago for our Parish Bulletin, but in the light of yesterday's service and hour of prayer, I thought it relevant to post it here) 

Have you been there Friend? to Gethsemane ? Have you been weighed down by oppression and burdened by pain?  Is your heart heavy and does hope seem forlorn? Is the night so dark, that the way ahead seems treacherous?  Do friends turn foes?  Have you felt abandoned? Do you feel the need to cry....

“Dear God . . .

Let this cup pass.

I cannot bear

Another moment.

This pain

Is too great,

And weighs heavy

On my heart.

I have known

The cold sweat of fear.

Fear that has bred

Hate, anger and

Led me to

Despair.

And now I stand

At the very edge

Of existence.

I speak, but

No one understands.

I call out, but

No one hears.

Is this why

I am?

Where is the answer?

Where must I seek?

I shall go to the garden

Again and again.

As Jesus went before . .

To pray.

To find God.

To know my Father.

Have you been there, Friend?

Have you been to

Gethsemane?

Cadet Prayer

The day’s opening hours, for me, must include a scan of the newspaper headlines. A common feature, of late, has been the army, its officers and various unsavoury shenanigans. Whither the Indian Army?

My father served in the Indian Army. I treasure his parchment commission, received at the time of Independence and signed by our first President, Dr. Rajendra Prasad. Thankfully, for the duration of his service, the Indian Army was the exemplar of discipline and duty: standards that were set for home and family too. The army way of life then and now are far removed from each other. Life was more difficult then without the major comforts that army families enjoy today. That was the time of laying foundations, of building, of creating a blueprint for those to follow. It was also a time of intermittent but very active war. It was a trying time that built men of character. It was a time when men of character were trying to build a nation.

And I like to think that what kept these men straight and true was the Cadet Prayer. Though he served with the Indian Army, my father was trained by the British and he always carried a little card embossed with the title ‘Cadet Prayer’. No author is mentioned. Travel stained and somewhat faded with time, this little card must have been part of the cadets’ kit.

Here are the words:

“O God, our Father, Thou searcher of men’s hearts, help us to draw near to Thee in sincerity and truth. May our religion be filled with gladness and may our worship of Thee be natural.

Strengthen and increase our admiration for honest dealing and clean thinking, and suffer not our hatred of hypocrisy and pretence ever to diminish. Encourage us in our endeavour to live above the common level of life. Make us choose the harder right instead of the easier wrong, and never to be content with a half truth when the whole can be won. Endow us with courage that is born of loyalty to all that is noble and worthy, that scorns to compromise with vice and injustice and knows no fear when truth and right are in jeopardy. Guard us against flippancy and irreverence in the sacred things of life. Grant us new ties of friendship and new opportunities of service. Kindle our hearts in fellowship with those of a cheerful countenance and soften our hearts with sympathy for those who sorrow and suffer. May we find genuine pleasure in clean and wholesome mirth and feel inherent disgust for all coarse minded humour. Help us, in our work and in our play, to keep ourselves physically strong, mentally awake and morally straight, that we may the better maintain the honour of the Corps untarnished and unsullied, and acquit ourselves like men in our effort tor realize the ideals of our Army in doing our duty to Thee and to our Country. All of which we ask in the name of the Great Friend and Master of men.”

Christian in concept, the prayer is universal. It holds man in commitment to God and Country. Sadly, many have been killed in the name of both.

A Saint for Every Purpose

Being Catholic means an intimate relationship with the saints, from our christening till we depart this earth.

The first saint we encounter is the one chosen as our patron saint and this saint’s name forms part of our own. And as we grow and are able to understand, we are told why this particular saint was chosen for us – either because we were born on the saint’s commemoration day, or because the name belonged to a family member from an earlier generation, or because the saint was someone’s favourite recourse.

In Europe, the name day is more significant than the birthday because of the connection with the respective saint. My husband was thrilled to know this because his birthday and his name day are one and the same – he is named for St. Albert the Great.

But I digress. I started this piece not because of the saints we are named after but because of those we encounter throughout our lives. For example, it must be a rare person who has not pestered St. Anthony to find a lost possession. Then we have St. Christopher to intercede for us when we travel and St. Jude for desperate situations; St. Joseph for help in examinations (provided we have put in a little sweat of our own!); St. Francis of Assisi to watch over a beloved pet (if you have not read Gallico’s The Small Miracle, please do) ; the Little Flower, patroness of the missions and the list goes on. Then there are the saints connected with our Alma Mater, familiar names being: Francis Xavier, Ignatius of Loyola, Magdalene of Cannossa, Claudine Thevenet. Some are easier on the memory based on the situation and others belong to recall from the Lives of the Saints – recommended reading for every Sunday School attendee.

St. Rita, I must confess, was one never encountered till now. A bulging envelope in the Sacristy, spilling out its contents, invited curiosity. And, on exploring further, I discovered that it contained holy pictures – relics of a dimly remembered time when these were highly prized collectibles – with an accompanying biography and prayer of supplication: St. Rita, intercessor for ‘the impossible’. In present time, on our frantic planet, when everything does seem insurmountable, who could resist? I was happy to find that Rita was a saint after my own heart. A real person, who faced the kind of situations we encounter in the daily news: a forced marriage, a difficult husband, wayward sons and a life of submission. The difference lies in the fact that she ultimately achieved her desired goal through steely determination and faith-filled prayer. Firmly tucked into my hymnbook, to be retrieved in time of need, St. Rita’s picture is a timely reminder that faith, hope and charity were alive and well 500 odd years ago and should never be allowed to die.