I've been playing over on Facebook, and I get innundated with some interesting and strange "Quiz" application invites: What 80's Movie Defines You? (Say Anything, a movie I've never seen) Find Out What Movie Star You Were in a Past Life (Marilyn Monroe, puh-leeze) What Kind of Tattoo Should You Get? (A nude angel with small wings and big boobs... SHUT UP Kevin!)
I was pondering why these little quizzes are so popular, why I even bothered. I suppose it's because we all want ANSWERS: in part, because want something outside ourselves to help define us, in part, to ease our minds about issues we don't understand completely. With all the changes of the past year, finding my new "place" in life, finding answers, has been a huge theme of mine.
Recently, our priest was called to move to another parish. Father Charles grew up in an evangelical household, and came to Catholicism and eventually priesthood, as an adult. Mass with Fr. Charles was never dull. Although Deat wasn't Catholic, during one of Fr. Charles' visits to him in the hospital, he made a point to tell Fr. Charles, "You are my pastor." Fr. Charles was so moved by this statement he repeated it several times in the days following Deat's death, including during the funeral where he presided.
The first Sunday after the funeral, I felt very alone as the girls and I took our place in our usual pew near the front. Involuntary tears slid down my cheeks as I listened to the Psalm of the week, the 23rd.. I looked up at Fr. Charles, and noticed him looking at me and tearing up himself: my pastor, my friend. He stopped, right in the middle of the service, and asked all the ladies in attendance to come sit with me and show their support. It was a beautiful moment, and one I needed. His last several masses with us were bittersweet: full of appreciation for knowing him, but sadness at a new, fresh loss in a year that at times, seems to have been defined by loss.
I tried to greet Father Pat, our new "pastor", with an open mind. I was pleased at his first sermon to discover that, although while he wasn't as dynamic as Fr. Charles, he could deliver an interesting sermon. He seemed like a very kind, sincere and genuine man.
Fr. Pat's second sermon, however, threw me for a huge loop. He said he had not faced major tragedy in his life, such as the loss of a close loved-one. He said he doesn't believe that God "makes" these losses happen, but that God is always there to hold us close while we endure them.
WHAT?! Everything I've held dear in my faith the past seven months was suddenly wrong? His words seemed to fly in the face of the scripture I've clung to since Deat first became ill, Romans 8:28, " And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose."
To me, this verse means that God's hand is on EVERYTHING that happens, and everything is according to His plan. Yes, my personal loss was huge to me, but my God is omniscient and omnipotent...I've been comforted knowing that God's hand was on this event: believing that Deat's life and death served multiple purposes His plan: a plan much larger and greater than my own. I've been able to accept life without Deat in part by believing that ultimately the purposes this loss served in God's plan were, and are, more important than whatever pain it brought to me.
Suddenly this new priest, a man I've been taught that I'm supposed to trust to help me grow in my relationship with God, is saying, "No, God didn't MAKE this happen, He just watched while it did?"
In my mind, the God Fr. Pat referred to was some mamby-pamby being who didn't direct our lives, He just "let" things happen to us, He just tried to comfort us after they did. If God did not purposefully end my husband's life, then am I to now believe He didn't STOP his death, even though He could have? If Fr. Pat's assertions were right, WHY OH WHY did my husband have to die? Why did my precious babies have to lose a father who loved them more than breathing? The mere idea that this interpretation could be true cut me a thousand ways.
I tried to approach Father Pat after mass to understand his reasoning, but in the conversation I couldn't stop tearing up and shaking, I'm sure my reaction suprised and bewildered him, and I wasn't able to focus on his replies at all. I missed church the following two Sundays: angry at the implications of his sermon, angry that he wasn't Father Charles, angry that I was being expected to cope with yet ANOTHER loss.
After some thought I decided, as Fr. Pat had mentioned, he had never endured major loss, so of couse he wouldn't know. I returned to church this past Sunday, and tried to put my feelings about the previous sermon behind me. This week's sermon didn't cause any damage. Besides, I love the praise and worship of mass, I love the other members of my church family. Someday I may try again to discuss the contents of that sermon with Father Pat, and who knows? I may grow to love him, too. I may even call him my pastor.
Going forward, I've decided that Father Pat has every bit as much right to be fallable as those stupid quizzes. Putting my faith in how other humans see me, my life, my God, is silly. Listening and talking with others may help me sort out my feelings on an issue, but I can find many of the answers in prayer, in my Bible, and in myself. Who says we're supposed to get all these answers we seek in this life anyway? I'll look for answers from the sources I'm sure I can depend on...
And I don't think I'll be getting that angel tattoo any time soon.
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