It was early May, 1966. I was a senior in high school. But instead of thinking about graduation or college, I was thinking about my mother. She was just laying there in our local hospital. She had had a hysterectomy. Afterwards, her digestive system closed down. Nothing moved through it. Was she dying?
Maybe.
A teacher suggested that when I went to the hospital to see her, that I also go in the Catholic Church two blocks away. She explained that Catholic churches stayed open all day so people could go in them to pray. I wasn’t Catholic, but I did pray, and it sounded nice to be able to do it in church. Seeing mother laying there day after day was hard. I wanted to pray.
I was scared at first. Catholics at that time were a very small minority in Frankfort. I didn’t know any. I didn’t know anything about Catholicism. What if someone came in the church and saw me? What if they asked me what I was doing there? I reasoned that I would just tell them, and, if the church stayed open, they ought to expect people to come in. So, I calmed my fears, went in, and prayed.
The days passed. Seven days. Fourteen days. Twenty-one days.
I kept going to visit Mother. And I kept going in that Catholic Church to pray. There was a SOMETHING about it. All I could have said at that time was that “It was good to go in there and pray. There is a quiet. God seems close.”
Finally, on the twenty-eighth day, Mother’s body started working again. She had a bowel movement. She woke up from her semi-coma state and wanted something to eat. The crisis was past.
I’m beginning today’s reflection with this memory, mostly because tonight I need to give a talk to the youth of our parish on “Praying at Adoration.” As I have considered what to say, that memory came to mind. There was a tabernacle in the church then—as now. I had no idea what a tabernacle was or that there was a True Presence waiting for me there.
Mark 4:26-34 & Ezekiel 17:22-24
I knew there was SOMETHING about prayer in that church that was good. That was the little seedling of Catholic faith that sprouted in me. It bore no noticeable fruit of faith at that time. Mother got well, but I don’t remember thinking my prayers had anything to do with it. My church background at that time didn’t include praying with confidence that God might personally answer my prayer—let alone that that my prayer might unleash God’s miraculous capacity to heal.
As I remember it, those prayers just comforted me.
Yet fruit there was before too long, for just three years later, in May of 1969, I got curious about Catholicism, started reading, attended my first mass—and fell in love with the Catholic Church. I entered into full communion on December 19th, 1969.
Both the first reading and th e Gospel today speak of seeds of faith. I recall those days in 1966 and other childhood memories to recall seeds of faith planted in me.
How were seeds of faith planted in you? Were they like the seeds in today’s Gospel, “scattered and sown” without you, your parents or teachers even realizing what was happening? Were they tiny mustard seeds–small then, but hospitable bushes today?
Or were they more like the tiny shoot planted on the top of a mountain in today’s first reading? Were you a model of faith in your youth?
As I reflect more, I realize that my thoughts today are going toward the planting of seeds of faith in children and youth. Yet, seeds of faith can be planted at any age.
Prophecy Coming True
In one way, all three readings can be viewed as prophecy coming true in Jesus. He is the cedar seedling planted on top of the mountain who is now putting forth branches and bearing fruit as he begins his public ministry.
Now Jesus is walking about Galilee teaching and healing. He uses parables, rather than straight Jewish doctrine or law. He tells stories that often have layers of meaning.
Two weeks ago, on Corpus Christi, a priest I heard preach recalled when he was pastor to farmers early in his priesthood. “How was I to help them appreciate the Eucharist?” he asked. “Well, I described the True Presence in the Eucharist as a genuine August, vine-ripened tomato.” I smiled when I heard that, but the metaphor has stuck with me. I’ve raised tomatoes most of my life. I can tell you, when it comes to delightful taste, there is NOTHING that compares with a genuine August, vine-ripened tomato. It’s REAL.
Jesus is using planting and harvest metaphors to reach the agricultural culture of Galilee.
When God comes to us, he uses things we know to guide us. It’s part of God meeting us where we are. Yet, in all these musings I remember. “Yes, God meets us where we are–then expect a MOVING experience.” God always works to move us closer to him.
2 Corinthians 5:6-10
St. Paul is also talking about Jesus—and the relationship a disciple might have with him. It is as if Paul is thinking out loud—would I rather be here, absent from Christ, or in heaven with Christ, but absent from what and who I know and love?
The young probably seldom wonder about that, but us older folks think that way frequently. So many people we have known and loved have already gone to be with God. We miss them. We wish we could be with them.
Perhaps more often than we would like, when we pray, it seems that God is far off or doesn’t hear. Life is not as much fun as it was when our kids were all at home, our spouse was our best friend, and most of our body cooperated to do whatever we wanted it to do.
I think God speaks in metaphors and parables to us, too. We are less interested in life as it is now. We think more about Eternal Life. It sounds better and better. Our ennui for here and now is perhaps just as much a mustard seed of faith as not quite understood moments of faith were in our youth.
We know there is SOMETHING present, SOMETHING more that pulls at us, calls to us. Today, I wonder if that SOMETHING was pulling at my mother in 1966. Interestingly, today would be her birthday. She was born June 16, 1911. Interestingly, she died of the same digestive difficulty–but not in 1966, but in 2006–at 95, not 55.
The SOMETHING who is the REAL AUGUST TOMATO plants seeds in us all through our lives, calls to us all through our lives, loves us all through our lives.
Father’s Day
Perhaps our thoughts today go back to our Father. What seed did he plant in us? What seed did we plant in him? How do you put your faith journey in perspective? What seeds were planted—by whom?
What seeds are you planting? What sapling is growing?
Good questions for a summer afternoon. Happy Day to Fathers….and all.
