The Struggle

“Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go." Joshua 1:9

I went to confession the other night, and listened to the priest who betrayed me speak about forgiveness and reconciliation. God works in strange ways. I knew there was a chance that he would be there, but was surprised to see that he would be the one to speak. But I found that with my husband by my side, I was able to remain strong and stay. I tried to listen, but his words could not break through to my heart. It was that night and the night that followed that made me realize that sadness and suffering are keeping me closed off from God’s love. It is a place that I don’t want to be. In a way I was glad that he was there. After some guidance and listening to God, I realized that I needed to speak to him. I must admit, I was curious to see if he felt remorse for what he had done. So after the service, I spoke to him. I told him how much I had been hurt by his actions and told him I wanted to put the past behind me. I don’t know what I expected him to say. Since he is a priest, I expected to hear the word of God through him, and know that everything was going to be okay – that we had each learned a lesson through this experience. Instead, I was disappointed. He said he had no ill feelings for me, of which I was glad, and he did say that he was sorry. But he still tried to rationalize what he had done, and said there was no sexual intent. I felt like in his eyes, since his so-called motive was to heal, the physical action meant no harm. I have been in situations like that myself. Where I hurt someone by my actions without meaning to. That, however, doesn’t mean that the action is right. It’s not an excuse. I want to believe that he meant no harm, but how can I? After speaking with a few Catholic experts – including priests and religious brothers and sisters, they all said the same thing. A kiss is a kiss. And there is no reason for a priest to kiss a woman on the lips.
It wasn’t the outcome or the meeting I expected. And I don’t know what I will do now. But I am thankful to God for giving me the strength to go back to confession, for the strength to speak to this man, this priest, after this pain, and, through other priests and people -- for seeing his hand in my life again. It is now up to me to reach out and take hold.

Decisions, Decisions

I have an opportunity to go to confession tonight. The church I used to go to is having a parish mission, and priests will be available for the sacrament. I can’t decide what I want to do. Part of me is afraid the priest I used to go to confession will be there. In that case, what do I say and how do I react? Should I avoid the situation all together? I haven’t been to confession, or to church, since Ash Wednesday. Am I ready to make the step to join the ranks again? Am I emotionally strong enough to possibly come face to face with the priest again? I just don’t know. I want to say that I can do this. That I am strong enough to go. And I have to admit, I’m tired of living my life in fear of people and situations. I’m tired of hiding secrets in my soul.
At the same time, it’s hard for me to listen to God. What if I go and still feel the same afterwards, or worse? When I first started going back to church, it took me a while to feel anything. My heart was stone, and not even God’s love could get through easily. This time, I feel as if I’ve lost my heart. The mission is such an important part of my life. I really believed it saved me when I first went years ago – not right away, but it gave me hope – and faith. Part of me is hoping that it can save me again. I went into that first mission with so much pain and suffering, but it cracked through that heart of mine. This time, I feel like I am dead inside. I hope that God shows his presence to me if I do get enough nerve to go. I hope he re-lights that fire and wakes me up once again.

Sept. 11 - Not Forgotten

Even though I wasn’t affected by Sept. 11, on the anniversary, I always think of those that were affected personally. I have to admit, though, that even though I wasn’t in Manhattan on that day seven years ago, I was frightened coming into work today – as I have been for the past three years. But I couldn't just stay home. I felt like it would be a dishonor to those who were here that day. The city is strong, though, and for me at least, it feels liek everyone who is walking around Manhattan right now, or going to work, or just living their life, is giving honor to those men and women who died. Because of that, this morning I was surprised to learn that two of the biggest papers in Manhattan didn’t have Sept. 11 stories or pictures on their front pages. For some reason, it made me a little sad. I thought of all those families that were hurt by those attacks, and wonder how they would feel about that. Do they fear that the city is forgetting them? I hope not. We will never forget.
In memory of the day, I have posted the prayer that Pope Benedict prayed at Ground Zero during his New York Visit.

"O God of love, compassion, and healing, look on us, people of many different faiths and traditions, who gather today at this site, the scene of incredible violence and pain.
We ask you in your goodness to give eternal light and peace to all who died here - the heroic first responders: our firefighters, police officers, emergency service workers, and Port Authority personnel, along with all the innocent men and women who were victims of this tragedy simply because their work or service brought them here on September 11, 2001.
We ask you, in your compassion to bring healing to those who, because of their presence here that day, suffer from injuries and illness.
Heal, too, the pain of still-grieving families and all who lost loved ones in this tragedy. Give them strength to continue their lives with courage and hope.
We are mindful as well of those who suffered death, injury, and loss on the same day at the Pentagon and in Shanksville, Pennsylvania. Our hearts are one with theirs as our prayer embraces their pain and suffering.
God of peace, bring your peace to our violent world: peace in the hearts of all men and women and peace among the nations of the Earth.
Turn to your way of love those whose hearts and minds are consumed with hatred.
God of understanding, overwhelmed by the magnitude of this tragedy, we seek your light and guidance as we confront such terrible events.
Grant that those whose lives were spared may live so that the lives lost here may not have been lost in vain. Comfort and console us, strengthen us in hope, and give us the wisdom and courage to work tirelessly for a world where true peace and love reign among nations and in the hearts of all."

Better Late Than Never - Comment on the Dark Knight

I saw the new Batman movie when it first came out – and as I was watching it I was really struck by the character of the Joker. His speech where he calls himself an “agent of chaos” has gotten a lot of play on the internet. I couldn’t help thinking of how his character is similar in many ways to the devil and evil. Evil doesn’t have a plan – its only aim is to throw people off the path of good. It doesn’t matter who you are, it doesn’t matter what you believe. That’s its only purpose. But what about people who actively act evil? What about real people like the Joker?
It got me thinking about how people come to be the way they are. Throughout the movie, the Joker makes up different reasons for how he got the scars on his face. When he asks Batman if he wants to know where the scars came from, Batman replies that he doesn’t care. I thought that was really impressive. Does it really matter where our scars came from? Or is it enough that they are there and have shaped us in some way? Batman, too, had a dark past, but he decided to turn his past into a positive to help the city. It goes to show you that people can have evil things happen to them. It’s awful, and sad, yes. But how people respond to those evil things shapes who they are now. In the present. Which is most important. People can react like the Joker when evil things happen, and act in evil ways as well, or like Batman, they can react in a positive way.
I have been reading a book called, “Man’s Search for Meaning,” by Victor Frankl. It’s about the holocaust and people who were in concentration camps. He said something that really struck me in that book. He wrote about the prisoners and said, “Fundamentally, therefore, any man can even under such circumstances, decide what shall become of him – mentally and spiritually.” Later, he continues with this thought and says, “It is this spiritual freedom – which cannot be taken away – that makes life meaningful and purposeful.”
I think that is the lesson in Batman, as well. Just goes to show you, sometimes you can find life lessons in the most random of places.

Work

I work for a Catholic organization. I had gotten the job only a few months after I came back to the church. At first, it was like something out of a fairy tale. I felt like I was doing God’s work, and that I was finally on the right path in my life. However, now that my faith has been shaken again, I am finding it hard to focus on my job. I still love the people, and on certain days the work is fulfilling and I can see why I wanted to get a job here in the first place. But on other days, I feel like my faith is being thrust on me too fast. I like to take things slow when I feel like I am on shaky ground. The whole thing makes me question exactly what a good job is. How do you know what job is right for you? How do you know what gifts God wants you to use, and how do you figure out how to use them in the best possible way?
I know I should go to church especially on those days when I least feel like going, but I can’t seem to find the motivation. Even though I am questioning my purpose in life, I just have put up a wall between me and the church. I’m basically torn in two right now. I feel like by not going, I am punishing myself in ways that I deserve, and on the other side, I feel like I am punishing God by not reconciling with the church, kind of like a rebellious teenager.
I guess you could say that right now I am suffering in my faith life. I still believe in God, but I am having a hard time dealing with the traditions of the church – like going to Mass and confession, which used to be two things that kept me grounded in life. I feel like a lost soul. I’m just wandering around looking for answers in friends and society because I am afraid to go back to the proverbial well.

Forgiveness is not a gift

In New York, a prominent Harlem priest has been removed from his post due to allegations of sexual abuse. There has been an uproar of emotion – some people are upset that he has been removed when he has done so much for the community, others are upset that there is yet another case of abuse by a priest. It’s upsetting no matter how you look at it. As someone who has had a fair share of abuse (that’s another story for another time), I side with the alleged victims. People are wondering why the two victims waited so long to bring their case to light. I can understand why. I’m sure it took them a long time to come to terms to what happened to them. They have probably now only reached the point where they can talk about it. It takes a while to accept when bad things happen. And it’s only when you reach a certain breaking point when you feel like you should do something about it. The whole case makes me wonder about forgiveness. Does God expect victims to forgive those who have hurt them? Some people say that it is only through forgiveness that victims can find peace. That I am not sure about – as I am still working through my own issues. In any case, it doesn’t seem fair. First, the victims have to go through all the emotions that come with an abuse case, and then, it seems, that the tables are turned on them again when they are supposed to take the high road and forgive those who have done so much damage. It again puts all the pressure on those who have been hurt. Should they forgive only if their attackers ask for their forgiveness? I admire those who can forgive. But I don’t blame those who can’t. I hope that God does not only provide healing to those who can forgive. I hope that He takes mercy on those who can’t as well, for it seems that they would need his kindness most of all.

Circle of Confession

“Lord, I am not worthy to receive you, but only say the word and I shall be healed.”

Those words have always had a special place in my heart. When I hear them at Mass, I am transported back to the first Mass after really coming back into the Church. It was confession that brought me back, and ironically, it is confession that has made me falter in my faith again. While I haven’t gone totally back to my pagan ways – I still have moments of prayer and hope as you can see from my previous postings – but I am not as close to the Church as I would like, or as I once was.
Three years ago, I came back to God. Through the power of a wonderful confession experience, I learned how to forgive those who have trespassed against me, and how to forgive myself. It didn’t happen instantaneously in that one moment of confession, but it was that moment of peace that only confession can bring that made me want God more in my life. I began talking to those in a religious order who gave me spiritual direction and hope for the future. One of them was a priest – the one who I went to confession with. From that experience, a friendship formed. And I thought I was moving further and further along my faith journey.
However, on Ash Wednesday, things changed. And the time of confession, which I considered my favorite part of my newly discovered faith, became a moment that once again made me falter on my path. While in confession, the priest that I had grown to love and admire for his spiritual wisdom, betrayed my trust. He kissed me, and claimed that the action was a “holy kiss.”
At first I didn’t know if this was a real practice or not. After consulting those who would know, I found out that there is no such thing as a holy kiss between a man and a woman in the church. When my husband and I confronted the priest about this action – about a week later, since it took me that long to gain the strength to even tell my husband – he said he did it because he saw how much pain I was still in from past events in my life.
This betrayal of trust made me so upset that I stopped going to church on a regular basis. And I haven’t been to confession since. The wound is still there. Sometimes I wonder if those moments where I experience God and true understanding are just me searching for answers that aren’t really there. On dark days, like today, I know somewhere in my heart that God loves me, but it’s hard to see Him at these times. Most days I can put the pain behind me. And most days I can open myself to God, but today is not most days. Today I am writing from the darkness. Evil thoughts are hard to control. And sometimes, even though I haven’t lose my faith completely, I lose grasp ever so slightly. I just hope that I can grab hold again.