A Will and a Way
"A Will and a Way": It is a strange flow of words, and to most modern minds a combination of words that sounds rather violent, or at the least disconnected. But if you are in possession of a soul that has ever suffered, perhaps you know of the common thread that holds them together.
That thread would be a man who is said to have established a Universal Church shortly before he died on a cross; the son of a carpenter who was betrayed into the hands of his enemies by one of his chosen followers. He was seemingly a failure in all things and yet 2000 years after he died the death of a criminal, he is still revered, adored, and called Savior by millions around the world.
So, where and when did the success and fame part come in? Well, primarily in His Resurrection, which proved he was not only not conquered by death but was the True Conqueror over sin and death. But in a much deeper and less easily seen sense, His success "came in" through his universal appeal to the suffering hearts of mankind.
It may be rightly said that the Catholic Church is full of gloomy faces–yes, that would be the faces of the suffering souls who unfortunately have only made it through the first half of this Savior's message (the suffering part). Human suffering is an inescapable reality. No amount of money, fame, fortune, good health, or luck will or can prevent or eliminate it. No matter how you slice it, suffering will find you. The entire world's money may protect you from poverty, but money can bring its own heartaches and headaches and if not, other devices will assuredly meet you around some dark corner. Perfect loyalty cannot be bought, nor real friends, nor can we buy hearts, health, or peace of soul. For that matter, heartaches will come–either at the hands of others or at our own very capable hands.
It is this inescapable truth of life's suffering that brings hearts to the feet of a God who suffered. I cannot speak with much authority about other religions with their own gods, but Buddha I know is depicted oftentimes as fat, jolly, and laughing. This is a stark contrast to the Christian's symbol of their Savior, whose bones can be counted and whose wounds cannot, a pitiable state of a man with not a drop of blood left nor breath of life. A God forever immortalized on the symbol we call the crucifix.
Although there are crucifixes in every patient room at the hospital where I work, I am afraid that its significance is mostly lost on the sick who suffer there. But it is not lost to all. Some of the elderly Catholics who quietly suffer in these rooms seem keenly aware of its spiritual significance, and countless times I move rosary beads at the bedside to administer care. The God who suffered and died on a cross potentially elevates human suffering–for those who believe! And the rosary, in its simplicity, enables even the sick to pray with their lips and send a cry to heaven at a time when the body and mind are too ill to concentrate on profound words in profound prayers. "Hail Mary...Holy Mary" they rhythmically repeat over and over. These old souls quietly pray and suffer. And although they suffer, they remain at peace. Peace which comes from their Savior, hanging on the cross at the foot of their bed.
And then there are the dying. I recently helped a husband bid farewell to his beloved of 54 years. As she slipped from being alert to unconsciousness and to staggered breathing in a matter of a few hours, I looked to the crucifix which hung on the opposite wall and quietly whispered in her ear, "Anneli, be sorry for your sins so that Jesus may forgive you!" Whether she was completely unconscious or not, I can't be sure; but hearing is the last sense to go. Then looking to her husband, I cautioned that she would be with us for only a few more minutes. He came to her side and I finally slipped out.
A quarter of an hour later he called for me. Coming to her head, I traced the sign of the cross on her forehead as she took her last two breaths. Then all was still. It was a peaceful death, one I am sure she earned, as her husband said she prayed every night. The suffering of the dying ends and the suffering of those left behind begins. Suffering...
Would a laughing Buddha have had the same significance in that situation? I can't imagine how. But to have a God who gives us His own broken heart, to which we may attach our own broken heart–that is meaningful. We have a Lord who accepted a mission that He didn't want. Our Savior knew pain, suffering and infinite love. He resigned Himself with four simple words, Thy Will be done. Are those words for imitation? Yes, for the brave of heart! And for those with deep faith!
When it is all said and done (as I have heard Bishop Fulton Sheen say), can we ever say that our God doesn't know what it is to have a headache?
The gloomy faces that are said to fill the Catholic churches may very well understand this much, but certainly there must be a happy ending to all this serious talk of suffering and dying. Allow me to quote a little more of the song I earlier referred to:
So there's been a change in plans
What am I supposed to do?
When it is out of my hands
And I can't see my way through,
When I can't say
Thy will be done...
I will go to the altar
And I'll say, "Amen"
And I'll open my mouth
And I'll try again
Thy will be done...
Thy will be done...
The altar? Why the altar? Amazingly enough, its significance can only be fully understood by Catholics. Ours is the only religion that fully comprehends the sacrifice of the God-Man on the altar of the cross. Every sacrifice of the Old Testament happened on an altar, and sacrifices were not abolished by the teachings of Christ, but perfected by Him. Sacrifices remain the eternal way to appease God the Father. Christ abolished animal sacrifices and human sacrifices except his very own. Now, every legitimate sacrifice offered to God the Father in Christianity will continue to take place on an altar. A blood stained altar! The unbloody sacrifice of the Savior in the Mass, united to the blood of the first martyrs, hidden deep in the altar stones, continues on our own altars and in our own hearts!
Christ already took on all of our suffering; He saw it all and He suffered it all. When we desire to unite our lives to His, we are venturing to imitate His very sanctity, as His presence is in our souls through sanctifying grace. Now, He suffered in His life's mission to save us, and reserves the right to break our human hearts if that is what it takes to transform our personality that it may resemble HIM!
If only we would or could come to Him in some easy way; unfortunately, we do not. We kick, scream, cry and whine all the way; all the while professing our life's devotion to a crucified Lord. So He leads us ever forward, toward Himself and away from self. So as His leading continues and our resistance remains unbroken, we kick, scream, cry and whine all the louder, insisting that this is really not what we signed up for!
Let the song continue...
Well, it scares me so to think
What you can take away...
But I know that if I ask
I will have the grace to say
Thy will be done...
Thy will be done...
What can He take away? It would be easier to ask, what can't He take away? We are in the palm of His hand, and every breath of life is one of His many precious gifts to us. Everything, He can take away! But by His love, kindness, and mercy, we are sustained through every minute with gifts too countless to number. Yet we cry and moan and groan about how hard our life really is; all the while being flooded by love, grace, and heaven-sent gifts.
Together with Christ's sacrifice, our own can be perfected. And that is the happy part. It is not all in vain. If we suffer, we can be Christ-like. It is the road He showed us. It is the path He has given to overcome this weak fallen nature we call humanity. His grace, through His sacraments and His church, enable these weak creatures to transcend the tragedy of pointless human suffering. Our heart-aches and body-aches are not intended to bring us down, but rather we are asked to elevate our souls and our very lives through them.
The elevation of our life comes through resignation. Resignation comes through surrendering our OWN way. Oh, it sounds so simple! But the strongest inclination the we received from Adam and that disobedient wife of his is our willfulness! It is strong. Now, this may just be my opinion, others may believe that there are other stronger deviant inclinations than selfishness, but in my experience they all come down to indulging the self and its ugly desires.
The amazing thing about self is that we can become so self-righteous that we actually believe if things do not go our way, God's plans will be foiled! What a laugh! I recently watched the movie Therese, (a Leonardo DeFillipio film) and I was honestly surprised at her strong selfishness in her pre-saintly days. Now, I can understand wanting to go to the convent as that was her heart's desire; but to say that I want it so badly I will go all the way to the pope in order to force it to happen–that is willful! God ultimately graced her with a change in her willful heart; otherwise she wouldn't be the wonderful saint we revere today.
As mothers, if we were to teach our children about selfishness and its opposition to saintliness (gently), over the years, guiding them to selfless actions and intentions, perhaps the wiles of adolescence would be slightly diminished. I can't say for sure, first of all because my crew of children is still young and the tendencies of selfishness in my side of the genetic chain are not to be underestimated! It certainly cannot hurt, and the earlier they learn self sacrifice, certainly the better. But to talk the talk and not walk the walk is to be the easy target of children's accurate eye for hypocrisy. If you cannot practice it, it is better not to preach it, because your children's respect for you is on the line. They can pick out hypocrisy with their eyes shut!
In rearing children, there is rarely a moment that goes by that we aren't asked in some way to check our own selfishness at the door. God planned the struggle of parents perfectly. We do not have to go looking for ways to become saintly. They are at our feet; behold the dirty-faced, needy, messy, childish, selfish, naughty, hungry, naked, cold, willful, sick, energetic, noisy, tired and/or wild flesh-of-our-flesh. There is no getting around it, the Thy will be done as God planned it in parenthood, and more specifically motherhood, is to be self-sacrificing, souls who have to work not only on the faults of their own fallen nature, but at the same time help their children to become saintly. Indeed, not a small task.
But again, back to the song and with this I will conclude, as what more can be said than to go to our altar, sanctified with the blood of a silent, innocent Lamb, and ask for the grace to say...Thy Will be done!
Well, I will go to the altar
And I'll say "Amen"
And I'll open my mouth
And I'll try again
Thy will be done...
Thy will be done...
But I know that if I ask
I will have the grace to say
Thy will be done...
Thy will be done...
Words and lyrics taken from Marie Bellet's CD entitled What I Wanted to Say (Nashville TN: Elm Street Records). Marie Bellet is a Catholic mother of eight who writes her own songs and lyrics about Catholic motherhood. Her three CDs are available through Ignatius Press.
Maura Koulik is a wife and mother of five who resides in New York's Hudson Valley. She currently home-schools, directs her parish choir, and works as a registered nurse. Her writings on motherhood have been published in various Catholic periodicals. She is the compiler and editor of the recently published book The Art of Catholic Mothering: Twelve Catholic Mothers Speak about Motherhood, Child Rearing, and the Faith (available from Angelus Press, $12.95).
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