Seasons of Grace

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It would be laughable, were it not so tragic.

On October 5, 2010, President Obama signed into law S. 2781, “Rosa’s Law.” Introduced by Sen. Barbara Mikulski in 2009, Rosa’s Law changes references in many Federal statutes that currently refer to “mental retardation” to refer, instead, to “intellectual disability.”

This is well and good. We will no longer use a term which has become demeaning to certain individuals who, through no fault of their own, have impaired learning skills.  The Federal government’s terminology will be aligned with that of the American Psychiatric Association and the health division of the United Nations.

The problem, though, is that many—in fact, a majority—of the individuals whose feelings are “protected” never have the opportunity to worry about what others might call them.  That’s because with the expanded use of prenatal screening, pregnant women can know whether the child they carry has a disability, such as Trisomy 21 (Down syndrome).  And sadly, when informed that the child she carries will be born with Down syndrome (and at the urging of her physician), 92% of mothers choose to abort.

Perhaps it is fear that drives this staggering statistic: fear that they lack the strength and knowledge to accept and raise a special needs child, fear that society will be unkind.  Or perhaps it’s selfishness, bred in a society that expects, even demands, that life’s journey will be an easy ride.

*     *     *     *     *

My husband and I have been blessed with three talented and healthy children.  I do, though, have two very poignant memories of Down syndrome children.

When my own children were young, I taught a Saturday morning catechism class.  Just down the hall were the “special needs” students; and I remember that one morning in particular, one of them was not feeling well.  The sick student lay on a couch in the program director’s office, waiting for her parents to come.  And around her, unbidden but unwilling to leave their sick friend, the entire class stood in silent sympathy—stroking her cheek and her hair, kissing her fingers, offering a blanket or a drink of water.  And loving her.  Loving, because that’s what they do best.

Years later, I got to know a young woman with Trisomy 21 who, with her parents, attended daily Mass at the Catholic ministry where I worked.  She couldn’t remember all the complicated responses during the Mass, but she added her exuberant “Amen” to ours.  And she always recognized one longer prayer, and popped in one of her own.  When the community prayed “Lord, we give you thanks and praise…” she belted out her own simple but heartfelt prayer, “THANKS AND PRAISE!!”

I’m sure that God, looking down from His Throne, smiled at her sincere and simple expression of love.  I can only hope that my miserable, distracted attempt at worship was accepted as well—especially since I was in such good and holy company.

*     *     *     *     *

Sarah Palin, on the campaign trail, described how she felt when she learned, after 12 weeks of pregnancy, that the child she was carrying had Down syndrome.  “I said, ‘God, I don’t think I can handle this. This wasn’t part of my life’s plan.’”

But Palin went on to tell of her decision to continue the pregnancy and keep the child. She described her now-two-year-old son Trig as her family’s “greatest blessing,” and said he was “God whispering in my ear, saying, ‘Are you going to trust me? Are you going to walk the walk or are you going to talk the talk?’ ”

*     *     *     *     *

There is criticism among physicians and ethicists for a policy which encourages abortion of Down syndrome fetuses.  Commentator George Will called it “eugenics by abortion.”  Dr. David Mortimer, in Ethics & Medicine, wrote that “Down syndrome infants have long been disparaged by some doctors and government bean counters.”  Even the controversial bioethicist Dr. Peter Singer of Princeton argued that Down syndrome “is not so crippling as to make life not worth living from the inner perspective of the person with the condition.”  (Of course Singer, to his detriment, believes that children are not “persons” until they are two years of age, and that their parents should be permitted to kill them until that time.)

The Catechism of the Catholic Church (2276) notes that “Those whose lives are diminished or weakened deserve special respect.  Sick or handicapped persons should be helped to lead lives as normal as possible.”

LORD, PLEASE GIVE OUR SOCIETY the strength and the grace to see that the lives of these most vulnerable of your people are important.  Help us to model the virtues which come so naturally to them:  a hopeful spirit, a cheerful heart, and an unquestioning faith, and above all, a deep and abiding love.  Amen.

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Look up, look around. 

 That’s what we do, really, we Christians, during this Advent season.  We look up to our heavenly Father, and to the Son Who came to us in Bethlehem as a tiny baby, and Who comes to us still today.  And we look around at the world in which we live—at the still, expectant winter nights, rich with promise; and at the people whose love shapes us, and who we celebrate later this month with gifts from the heart.

Malcolm Muggeridge, the British journalist and satirist, wrote of this two-directional focus, comparing it to the steeple and the gargoyle which top a great cathedral. 

 “The steeple,” he asserted, “is this beautiful thing reaching up into the sky admitting, as it were, its own inadequacy.”  The steeple attempts something utterly impossible—to climb up to heaven. 

 The gargoyle, meanwhile, looks down, grinning and laughing at the absurd behavior, the vain strivings, of men on earth.

 Both of these structures—one aspiring to the heavens, and one drawn inexorably toward mankind here at ground level—are integral to the design of the cathedral; hence, both are intended for the glory of God. 

 Muggeridge saw, in the analogy of the steeple and the gargoyle, his own life in a mirror.  An avowed atheist for most of his life, he examined religion and faith with the eyes of a journalist, from the outside—looking down, like the gargoyle, without venturing in to meet the faithful on their own terms.  

 Although he did finally come to the Catholic Faith in his later years, the steeple and the gargoyle exemplified his own life, and the great gulf he found between his heavenly vision and his earthly attainment.  He tried to be faithful to the reality of Christ; but like the rest of us, Muggeridge was a sinner whose attempts fell short.  He needed the Babe of Bethlehem.

*     *     *     *     *

If you ever visit Rome, you may want to drive up to the Priory of the Knights of Malta, situated on the Aventine Hill, on the left side of the Tiber River near the U.S. Embassy to the Holy See.  The Knights of Malta maintain a private garden which is protected by a massive wooden gate; and in that gate is a keyhole which has become known as the “Magic Keyhole.”  Through the Magic Keyhole one can see into the garden, where a long gravel path runs between two rows of carefully pruned hedges.  Beyond the hedges one can gaze across the hillside, across tops of buildings, until—several miles away—there lies the great Dome of St. Peter’s Basilica, perfectly centered in view.  It looks like an artist’s impressionistic image, or perhaps like a well-framed souvenir postcard.

 Malcolm Muggeridge might have smiled at this mysterious image, echoing his “gargoyle on the steeple.”  From the Aventine Hill you can see the Vatican, the locus of the Catholic Church; but you can’t go in, you can’t approach and join in the prayer and adoration which are ongoing there.   

 I have a friend who speaks of the “Christmas and Easter Catholics”—those people who count themselves among the faithful, but whose absence through eleven months of the year belies any real interest in encountering the living Christ in the Eucharist, which occurs inside their local church each Sunday morning. 

 Advent is an excellent time to change all that.  You’ve been busy—but He’s been waiting.  Come home.

 *     *     *     *     *

 If you are a Catholic who has been away for a while, or if you are interested in learning more about the Catholic faith, I encourage you to check out Catholics Come Home, a website designed to help you begin or continue your faith journey so you can find true peace, happiness and purpose in life.  Go to www.catholicscomehome.org.

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May he be faithful to the ministry that he receives from you, Lord God, and be to others a model of right conduct.

–From the Prayer of Consecration, Rite of Ordination to the Priesthood

On the day of his ordination, a young priest expects to offer a lifetime of loving service to Christ and His Church.  Through his prayer and his ministry, he will lead his flock to a deeper understanding of their faith; he will walk with them in joy and sorrow, sharing their joy at the baptism of a child and the joining of two young lovers in holy matrimony, and comforting them at the passing of a parent.

But when a priest fails in his ministry because of addiction, he experiences shame, loneliness and remorse.  Perhaps he once drank only socially; but gradually his past experiences or his inner turmoil cause him to turn more and more frequently to the bottle.  His tolerance for alcohol increases, and he finds himself spiraling deeper into denial and deeper into alcoholism.  He arrives at Guest House with a broken spirit, powerless to help himself.  Coming together with priests from across the country who are facing the same struggle, he takes the first steps toward recovery—and in this shared experience of healing, deep friendships are forged.

So it was in 1996 when Father Jim Callahan (Minnesota), Fr. Dan McCloskey (Delaware), and Fr. Cathal Gallagher (South Dakota) entered the alcoholism treatment program at Guest House.  Together with other priests and their counselors, each man began the process of unraveling years of excuses and painful secrets, and uncovering the reasons behind his addiction.  Their shared experience of priestly ministry and renewed spirituality—and eventually, their grateful sobriety—forged a life-long friendship; and the three have remained close.

*     *     *     *     *    

Fast forward to Spring of 2010.  Father Dan had been facing critical kidney failure.  He was weakened after months of dialysis when Fr. Jim stepped up to offer one of his kidneys to help his friend.  It was a good match—and on April 22, 2010, with a lot of prayer support from their Guest House friends, the priests underwent transplant surgery with a top kidney specialist at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester.  In his weakened state, Father Dan lost a lot of blood and required not one, but two surgeries—but in the end, his life was saved. 

In the weeks following the surgery, both priests required careful monitoring and assistance.  Their close friend Father Cathal became their post-surgery caretaker.  Explaining how the event affected the three priests, Father Cathal wrote:

“Guest House may be a haven for the vulnerable.  The secret of one’s brokenness is no longer a secret.  But being vulnerable, one’s heart is more open, your ways are more gentle, and good solid friendships are created and nurtured.”

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Today at lunch, I strolled through the mall.  Not too many shoppers, I noted, since it’s just a few weeks from Christmas!  Maybe, in this down economy, they’re all at home baking cookies and knitting sweaters for their loved ones…. 

Then I saw it:  Splayed prominently across a shop window in artificial spray snow were the words ‘SEASONS GREEDY!’

“Nah,” I thought.  “Surely they can’t be that ready to admit that it really is about making money!” 

Silly me!  For the manager at that shop, and for all too many people, that is exactly what the holiday season is about.  This is the month when Americans will spend money they don’t have, to buy things they don’t need, for people they don’t even like.  And all that spending and shopping will distract from the real Reason for the Season.  Even the good stuff—the cleaning and baking and hospitality and out-of-town guests—will make it just a little difficult for the average mom to retain her focus on the coming of the Christ Child during this blessed Advent season.

One of my favorite Christmases from years past was the year our family rallied to help a family in need.  On Christmas Eve, my husband came home from work disturbed because a man in the office–a good husband and father–had encountered some serious personal and health problems, and did not have gifts for his wife and small children.  Had we known the situation earlier, we might have shopped, or given him a gift certificate– but all we could do was give of what we had under our tree.  That evening, we opened our Christmas gifts a little early.  The kids embraced the idea– and I remember them opening their gifts and saying, “Wow! I would really have liked playing with this!”  Then, we’d rewrap the present, to be “regifted” on the spot.  Jerry carried a full load of gifts for that family– something for everyone– and dropped them off at their door.    

 Looking around our cluttered house, I find that there’s not much I need this year.  Oh, there are a few things we could use– but I’m beginning to think “regifting” may be the best thing we could do for one another.

Lord, help us to remember that You are the greatest Gift this season, and give us the grace to celebrate with generosity and love for all of Your people.

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