Reflections on the March for Women

Watching the news last night, they interviewed a woman who was marching today in Washington. She held a bright pink shirt and shouted that women needed to “get the dignity we deserve.” She was adamant—each time she repeated the statement she became louder and more agitated.

This morning as women (and a smattering of men) gathered to march for the “rights” of women, I wonder if they truly knew for what they were marching. The right to abortion? The right to birth control? The right to marry whoever they want? Would that “get” them dignity?

As one who was a chemical engineer working in a field with very few women over 35 years ago, I shared in the dream to break the glass ceiling. I wanted to be recognized for my brain and talents, not objectified for my body. I wanted equal pay for equal work. I wanted to be valued and cherished for the person I was—not for someone else’s idea of what I should be.

What I realized then as I realize at an ever-deeper level now is that respect and love and feelings of being cherished come from a place deep inside of me. It is from a source who has called me by name, created me in His image and likeness, as His beloved for all time. I have an inherent dignity due to this identity—one that no man or woman can take away.

This core belief comes from being a beloved daughter of God.

If I continue to look to others for love and acceptance to complete me I will be forever chasing after something I will never obtain. God is the only One who can fill that space residing in me—that exists in each one of us. No human being can fill that void completely.

Women have an inherent dignity and worth in the eyes of God, equal in dignity to man. Not better, not less. Equal.

We contaminate that belief when we attach a “value” to our worth. Rather than seeing each as gift, we distort the image and likeness of God by saying it is not enough and then chasing after ideals, images, and actions that cheapen, not enrich, who we are.

Rather than marching and protesting, rather than ranting expletives about our President, why don’t we practice what many signs read in the sea of women gathered? Love trumps hate.

Our bodies are given to bear forth life. Celebrate that—don’t kill it.

Our hearts beat with compassion for the most vulnerable—the children we carry and those we nurture and care for. We are wired to be mothers—whether biological or spiritual. Celebrate that—don’t bury it.

Our minds are quick and imaginative. We can calculate figures, create works of art, run a household or a major corporation. Celebrate the gifts and stand shoulder to shoulder with the men that do the same, respecting all.

Woman was made to compliment man and together and in unity and love we are the creative force that bears for life, sustains the earth, and hands on the hope of a future that through the grace of God continues generation after generation. Women alone cannot do that and neither can men.

Today rather than protest what we are not, let us celebrate our inherent dignity giving thanks and praise to the One who created us. Let us live as gifts to one another, recognizing the inherent dignity in all.

The Power of Pentecost

As I sat in the pew just prior to Mass, I could feel the energy. Was it my imagination or was the Holy Spirit present in a heightened way on this Feast of Pentecost?

Red abounded in the Church—from the decorative banners, vestments, and flowers to the people—many of whom also dressed in red. There was an excitement and anticipation that was palpable.

I thought about the readings and the awe those gathered in the Upper Room must have felt as the strong wind moved about the room and tongues of fire rested above their heads. Hearts transformed, charisms unleashed, movement to the streets and the Gospel proclaimed in the languages of the people that had been unknown to the disciples prior to the gifting. What an experience of the Reality and Power of God!

I smiled. Unless a miraculous healing occurred at Mass I would not be speaking today—I had laryngitis. I thought of how Zechariah had been silenced until the naming of his son, John the Baptist and how silence is a gift too.

Being able to listen is integral to evangelization. If we don’t listen to others, we become the resounding gong and clashing cymbal of which St. Paul writes (1Cor 13.1). Listening allows us to hear the other’s story and meet them where they are. If we don’t, evangelization would be as fruitful as putting a kindergartener in a college level calculus class and wondering why they didn’t grasp the material.

Listening is an art and I almost wonder if not also a charism. We all have ears to hear, but often wonder where the listening goes—in one ear and out the other? Perhaps to the head or the heart but not to both?

If I am honest, I have to admit that many times I listen but have caught myself forming opinions and responses before the other is even finished with what it is they have to say. That is judgment—intellectual listening without compassion in order to respond with an answer to fix or solve a problem.

When I listen with my heart first, I am compelled to hear another’s story with openness. Empathy and compassion are present and I am moved to respond in kind. The heart then engages the head and I can discern how best to console or connect with the other.

As the Holy Spirit lavishes charisms upon us all, we are invited to be open channels for these sacred gifts. Charisms are always received to be given away for the building up of another. Charisms are gifts given to us by the Holy Spirit to bring others into relationship with God through Jesus Christ. Just as Mary gave her “yes” to the invitation of the Holy Spirit allowing Jesus to come into the world, we too are given the opportunity to give our “yes” and incarnate Jesus through our lives—so that others may come to know Him too.

Following the Feast of Pentecost let us continue to reflect on how that same Holy Spirit who once empowered those gathered in the Upper Room empowers us today. May our ears be opened. Whose voice is crying out? Where is the hand of God leading us to bring His Word? How can you be a vessel to incarnate the unconditional love, mercy, forgiveness and compassion of Jesus in our family, community, and world?

How is God inviting you to listen with a compassionate heart and respond to the needs of His People?

Focusing on the Year of Mercy:

The Phrase that Makes God Weep

 

I have arthritis and need to wear braces on my hands to calm down flair ups. The supports limit my range of motion and make any task having to do with grip or dexterity all the more challenging. On a recent trip to the grocery store, I found myself in the produce section struggling to get a plastic bag opened for my celery. Trying to rub the top of the plastic to separate the thin sheets, I was becoming more and more frustrated. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed a woman approaching me.

“Oh, I know how hard those bags are to get open,” she cheerfully said. I admit her chipper attitude just added to my aggravation. “I can help you with that” she offered kindly. “I got this” I said, focusing all the more intently on the task. She came closer. “No, let me help” she smiled.

Upset at the fact I was struggling and too proud to accept her assistance, I assured her I was capable of doing it myself. Nodding, she smiled and walked away. After a few more tries I finally got the bag open, put the celery in and continued my shopping. As I did began to think about the kindness offered and my refusal. I searched for the woman to apologize for my rudeness. I never did find her.

On the way home I replayed the scene over and over. I felt awful. I did need help in the store and someone, seeing my struggle, responded out of mercy. My pride stood in the way of accepting her offer of kindness. Upon further reflection, I began to think about all the times I have refused God’s mercy because I was too stubborn to admit I needed Him. I thought how sad God must be every time He watches me struggle, whether it be in small tasks or large life issues and as He sends angels or graces to help, my response is to say, “I can do this myself” and with hardened heart attempt, time after time, to do it my way.

While we may think the Year of Mercy is about us being merciful to others (and it is), we are also invited to reflect on how we receive mercy. We live in a culture that thrives on individualism and independence, but truth be told, we are the strongest when we learn to rely on God and each other. God knows our needs and sends others to us in times of weakness and trial. The virtue of humility is integral to our being able to accept another’s merciful assistance. It also allows them to live out their God-given mission as well.

As we continue to grow and understand the great gift of God’s Mercy, let us pray for the virtue of humility so that we may humbly accept God’s help when we need it!

Celebrating Mom and all the Saints in our Lives

My Mother's birthday is on All Saints Day. She used to tell us when we were little that she loved having her birthday on a Feast Day because she always had it off school (I guess in those days Catholic Schools were not in session for Holy Days). I loved listening to her stories about growing up, her siblings, and what it was like living through the Depression and World War II.

My Mother passed away several years ago after a very difficult battle with cancer. As I sat by her bedside, I could see how the pain was wracking her body. We would talk about her life but mostly about God and what Heaven was going to be like. I cherish the memories of those conversations. As I approach the age my Mother was when she passed away, I realize how short a time she was with us and how sacred the time we have with each other is. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about her.

Even though Mom isn't physically here, I know she is with me every day. When our daughter got married, I knew Mom's spirit was with us. She was there for every graduation. She was at our grandchildren's births and baptisms. She is also with me in the times of struggle; times when my heart was breaking and all I wanted was a hug. In all these times, knew she was there.

Our relationship wasn't without it's challenges. I was far from a perfect child and was the typical know-it-all young adult who didn't need any help from anyone. After all, I went to college. I knew everything I needed to know. I had a great job. I got married to the man of my dreams. My husband and I were living the American Dream--a house, two cars, a cat and a dog.

It wasn't until I had my own children that I realized how little I actually knew about life. I could "do" just fine. What I realized is that life is more than "doing", it is "being." It was in the struggles of being a mother that I learned to truly appreciate my own Mother.

Regardless of the relationship, Moms hold a very special place in the hearts of their children--I wish I could physically tell my Mom how special she was to me. She encouraged me and taught me how to stand on my own two feet. She volunteered for countless school and scouting activities. When I look back over my childhood, I know it wasn't perfect. I was a sassy kid that caused my Mom to lose her patience on more than one occasion (like the time I mixed all the chemicals together from my chemistry set and threw a match in to see what would happen). We tested each other to the max, I am sure, but I always knew deep down I was loved. My Mom never gave up on me. She continually gave of herself. Her life wasn't about "doing", it was about "being."

Her last words to me the night before she died summed up the entirety of what it means to be a Mom, a parent, a saint. Mustering up what little strength she had left, she told me "I love you. I have always loved you and always will love you." Eternal and unconditional love. I can still hear her say those dear words to me. It isn't about the "doing" but the "being"--being love.

We will gather on November 1 to celebrate my Mom and all the other saints (both canonized and not). Not a single one of us will live forever, however, we do live on in those whose lives we have touched. Though my Mom won't be sitting around the table for dinner as we celebrate, she holds a special place the hearts of each of us who knew her.

Happy birthday Mom!