Pastor's Points: "I'm Not Special"

Pastor's Points: “I’m Not Special”

In July I was able to spend about 10 days with my mother, my sister Susan, my brother-in-law Joe and my 12 year old nephew, Michael and 6 year old niece, Erin, visiting San Francisco and Kona, Hawaii.

We were not sure of how close we would be to a Catholic Church in Kona so I brought supplies along and planned to say Mass for my family at the resort. (Yes, it’s convenient when you have a priest in the family and you are travelling with him.) I got to my sister’s place which had a living room. As soon as I got there I knew it was not going to be easy. Erin (who took to calling me “Mr. Priest” on this trip) is 6 and she was crying and chanting, “I’m not special!” I inquired about her unhappiness and it apparently stemmed from the fact that while out earlier in the day, her father bought her some ice cream and he bought Michael a Subway sandwich. Erin felt she got the raw end of the deal and was demanding justice. Her pleas went unanswered and her mother soon said it was time for Erin to go to her room. Erin politely said “No thank you” in the midst of her crying. Well, she did wind up in her room; the sobbing still being heard in our makeshift chapel. I then proceed to set up the living room table for Mass. Michael pulled up a chair near the elaborate altar as I tried to light the candles. I apparently had defective matches, and there was a pile of about 8 of them by the time I got both candles lit.

I soon began Mass and just about as I was saying “The Lord be with you,” Michael broke out into a coughing fit. Erin then came out and expressed the fact that she was hungry. My Spidey liturgical sense at that moment told me it was best to pause Mass while Michael’s cough and Erin’s hunger were attended to. The coughing improved somewhat and whimpers were still heard from the “cry room.” Mass continued and, wouldn’t you know it, everyone was fine by the time it was over (although Erin did remind me later in the week that she was not special which cost me a Snow Cone).

Why do I tell you this story? First, you who are parents can, I am sure, relate to all of this. It happens in our pews every Sunday, but there is the luxury of a big church and a large narthex where restless children or those struggling to keep up with parental demands or feelings of not being special can go. Secondly, as I reflected a bit on this Mass, it occurred to me that even in the midst of the chaos, in the midst of the coughing, in the midst of the crying, Christ still became present. The Eucharist took place. We were fed and nourished by the Bread of Life and Cup of Eternal Salvation. Whether it is the grandeur of the Easter Vigil or the simplicity of a Mass in a hotel living room with kids coughing and crying, Christ still comes to us. Christ still enters into our lives—in our bodies—and we are fed.

I hope that when you come to Mass on Sunday, it is a chance for you to give thanks to God for the week gone by and the graces received, and to receive the Eucharist and be strengthened for the week ahead.

Jesus was born into the chaos of family life. Remember, he was hunted by Herod. His parents had to flee with him into Egypt to protect him. When we gather for Mass we come together as a family with all of our craziness, problems, joys, sorrows, hopes and desires. It is at the Eucharist that all that is weak and sick is healed, and where we realize that indeed we are special, holy, beloved to our God.