Walking with a Purpose
It is Sunday, December 9, 2012 and I am sitting in front of the Blessed Sacrament again because I am substituting for a substitute who was substituting for a substitute for Adoration. Ironically, the one scheduled adorer was a substitute teacher but she now works in real estate so Sundays are no longer free. Her substitute was hit by a car and is also a friend of mine.
In a quiet church, no one but another friend and the church mice were present with God, when I could hear the doors in the back open and heard heeled shoes start up the side isle. The walk was loud, steady and fast paced with purpose. The face attached to the body attached to the shoes was of a thirty something woman who headed directly toward the Infant of Prague statue. She said a quick prayer at the statue then headed to the altar in front of the Blessed Sacrament. She only remained a minute there then exited with the same purposeful pace out to the door. Her prayer was quick but intense. I have no idea for what she prayed but I do know I will pray for her intentions and God’s will be done in them.
My mom always made quick visits to the church in our neighborhood. We would just stop in. It was teaching that did not go unnoticed by me. I make visits often!
I picked up the bulletin from Our Lady of Sorrows to read. The reflection for today goes as follows on Luke’s Gospel. There is no credit given to the one who wrote the reflection.
‘If we were to describe the setting for John’s Good News in contemporary terms, we might say: in France, Kenya, Samoa, Japan, and Bolivia, when Obama was president of the United States and Benedict XVI was pope, ’the Word of God came to John…’
God’s Word always comes to specific human beings in concrete situations. It is not airy or floating in the clouds. All around the world, as Advent begins, Christians undertake intensified prayer and preparation. This is how they prepare the way and make the paths straight. There is a collective power in millions turning from the culture’s hype, seeking instead a way of peace, emptiness, and mystery. When the stores hang green and red tinsel, Christians drape their altars and prayer corners with violet. Their energy comes not from what they can buy, but as Baruch says, from “rejoicing that God remembered them.”
In the 21st century, we remember Herod, Phillip, and Annas only as villains. The heroes of the story that is unfolding were unknown in their day; a ragged preacher in the wilderness named John, a teenaged girl named Mary, her baffled fiancé, Joseph.
Somewhere in a Frankfurt treatment center for AIDS patients, a native American parish in Wyoming, an orphanage in Somalia, The Word of God continues to be spoken by unique individuals who are not famous through healing touches, compassionate eyes and hearts attuned to Christ’s.’
Somewhere the woman with the purposeful walk to the altar learned that God listens to our prayers. I wonder who told her. I know my parents told me. My dad was one of the first lay lectors in our parish. He proclaimed the Word of God. He was like Joseph. My mother was like Mary. They were unknown and unappreciated for their time except by a few people in the neighborhood and their family.
Although not canonized, they are the saints in heaven probably talking about the antics of their respective children with other saints...and praising God in the True Presence.
(Cat and butterflies circling on a cloud. I know they arrived. God answered that prayer to let me know!)
Marian R. Carlino
December 9, 2012
