Seeing Old Things with New Eyes
A familiar picture, a routine job, but that day, something different caught her eye.
On the corner of my bathroom vanity is an old photocopy of a drawing (original source long forgotten) in a clear, plastic frame. Years ago, one of my now adult sons had carefully framed it and set it on his dresser. It sat there until he grew up. When I re-homed, I transferred it to the corner of my bathroom vanity. On Saturdays, when I clean the bathrooms, I always lift the little frame and wipe the surfaces beneath it. Occasionally, I’ll swipe my cloth over the smooth sides of the frame to wash away any settled dust and invisible germs. But, like so many other familiar things, I rarely take notice of the image inside the old childish frame.
One particular day, though, this picture caught me by surprise. I eagerly focused on the eyes of the two figures in the image—a child and Jesus. The expression on the little child’s face was one of loving adoration. The innocence of child-like wonder and unrestrained admiration resonated in his soft, penciled eyes. The child’s tender, upward gaze seemed not to notice the horror of the crown of thorns atop Christ’s head or the Cross crushing His right shoulder. In contrast, Jesus’s eyes peered down from beneath heavy lids and shadowed creases. The artist had managed to skilfully veil the depth of pain behind those eyes.
Drawing Parallels
I recalled a memory from my early years as a mother. I was big with baby number three. In the last days of pregnancy, I was attempting to soothe my aching body with a warm bath. I bounded my two young sons. They were full of energy and chatter as they moved around the tub and peppered me with questions. My privacy and physical discomfort were of no consequence to their boyish minds.
I remembered the tears that rolled down my face as I tried, in vain, to get my sons to understand that I was hurting and in need of some space. But, they were simply little children who saw me as their ever-present mama, the one who kissed away boo-boos and always stood at the ready to hear their stories and meet their needs. They lacked understanding of the physical sacrifices that child-bearing demands. And I was too familiar to be seen by them as someone other than their strong, steadfast mother.
I considered the parallels. Like my little boys, the pictured child saw Our Lord through his individual, human lens of experiences. He saw a loving Teacher, a faithful Friend, and a steadfast Guide. Christ obscured the intensity of His Passion—out of mercy and met the child’s gaze with tenderness and compassion. The Lord knew that the child was not ready to see the full measure of the suffering that his salvation had cost.
Lost in the Darkness
Our familiarity with things, people, and situations can make us blind to reality. We most often see through the clouded tunnel of old experiences and expectations. With so many stimuli competing for our attention, it is reasonable that we filter out the world around us. But, like the child in the picture and my own little ones, we tend to see what we want to see and ignore that which does not correspond with our perspectives.
I believe that Jesus wants to heal our blindness. Like the blind man in the Bible who, on being touched by Jesus, said: “I see men, but they look like trees, walking” (Mark 8:22-26), most of us are not ready to see the ordinary with divine eyes immediately. Our eyes are still too accustomed to the darkness of sin, too attached to our self-reliance, too complacent in our worship, and too proud of our human endeavors.
The Full Picture
The price paid for our salvation on Calvary was not an easy price. It was sacrificial. Yet, like the child in the picture on my bathroom vanity, we focus only on Jesus’s tenderness and mercy. And because He is merciful, Jesus doesn’t rush; He allows us to come to a gradual maturity of faith.
However, it is good to ask ourselves every once in a while if we sincerely render efforts towards spiritual maturity. Christ did not give His life so that we might remain in the fantasy world of continued blessings. He gave His life so that we might have eternal life, and we need to open our eyes to see that He bought it at the price of His blood.
As we journey through Lent and especially Holy Week, we need to allow Christ to open our eyes little by little, surrender ourselves to His will, allow Him to remove our idols one by one, and strip away that which has become familiar in our lives so that we may begin to see the old blessings of worship, family, and holiness with new eyes of deep, abiding faith.
Tara K. E. Brelinsky is a freelance writer and speaker. She lives with her husband and 8 children in North Carolina. You can read more of her musings and inspirations on Blessings In Brelinskyville blessingsinbrelinskyville.com/ or listen to her podcast The Homeschool Educator.
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When she lost her mobility, eyesight, listening, voice, and even the sense of touch, what prompted this young girl to describe her life as ‘sweet?’ Little Benedetta, at age seven, wrote in her diary: “The universe is enchanting! It is great to be alive.” This intelligent and happy lass, unfortunately, contracted polio in her childhood, which left her body crippled, but nothing could cripple her spirit! Hard Times on Roll Benedetta Bianchi Porro was born in Forlì, Italy, in 1936. As a teenager, she began to go deaf, but despite this, she entered medical school, where she excelled, taking oral exams by reading the lips of her professors. She had an ardent desire to become a missionary doctor, but after five years of medical training and just one year short of completing her degree, she was forced to end her studies due to increasing illness. Benedetta diagnosed herself with neurofibromatosis. There are several iterations of this cruel disease, and in Benedetta’s case, it attacked the nerve centers of her body, forming tumors on them and gradually causing total deafness, blindness, and later, paralysis. As Benedetta’s world shrank, she demonstrated extraordinary courage and holiness and was visited by many who sought her counsel and intercession. She was able to communicate when her mother would sign the Italian alphabet into her left palm, one of the few areas of her body that remained functional. Her mother would sign letters, messages, and Scripture painstakingly into Benedetta’s palm, and Benedetta would reply verbally despite her voice having been weakened to a whisper. “They’d come and go in groups of ten and fifteen,” said Maria Grazia, one of Benedetta’s closest confidantes. “With her mother as interpreter, she was able to communicate with each one. It seemed as though she could read our innermost souls with extreme clarity, even though she couldn’t hear or see us. I will always remember her with her hand extended ready to receive the Word of God and her brothers and sisters.” (Beyond Silence, Life Diary Letters of Benedetta Bianchi Porro) It’s not that Benedetta never experienced agony or even anger at this disease that was robbing her of the ability to become a medical doctor, but in accepting it, she became a doctor of another sort, a kind of surgeon to the soul. She was, indeed, a spiritual doctor. In the end, Benedetta was no less a healer than she ever desired to be. Her life had shrunken all the way down to the palm of her hand, it was no bigger than a Communion host—and yet, just like a Blessed Communion Host, it had become more powerful than she would have ever imagined. It is impossible to miss the correlation between Benedetta’s life and Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament who is hidden and small too, silent and even weak, but an ever-present friend to us. Towards the end of her life, she wrote to a young man who suffered similarly: “Because I'm deaf and blind, things have become complicated for me … Nevertheless, in my Calvary, I do not lack hope. I know that at the end of the road, Jesus is waiting for me. First in my armchair, and now in my bed where I now stay, I have found wisdom greater than that of men—I have discovered that God exists, that He is love, faithfulness, joy, certitude, to the end of the ages … My days are not easy. They are hard. But sweet because Jesus is with me, with my sufferings, and He gives me His sweetness in my loneliness and light in the darkness. He smiles at me and accepts my collaboration.” (Venerable Benedetta Biancho Porro, by Dom Antoine Marie, OSB) A Compelling Reminder Benedetta passed away on January 23, 1964. She was 27 years old. She was venerated on December 23, 1993, by Pope John Paul II and beatified on September 14, 2019, by Pope Francis. One of the great gifts that the Saints bring to the Church is that they give us a clear picture of what virtue looks like, even in incredibly difficult circumstances. We need to ‘see ourselves’ in the lives of the Saints in order to be strengthened for our own. Blessed Benedetta is truly a model of sanctity for our times. She is a compelling reminder that even a life filled with serious limitations can be a powerful catalyst for hope and conversion in the world and that the Lord knows and fulfills the deepest desire of every heart, often in surprising ways. A Prayer to Blessed Benedetta Blessed Benedetta, your world became as small as a communion wafer. You were immobilized, deaf, and blind, and yet you were a powerful witness to the love of God and the Blessed Mother. Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament is hidden and small too, silent, immobilized, and even weak—and still all-powerful, ever present to us. Please pray for me, Benedetta, that I will collaborate, as you did, with Jesus, in whatever way He wishes to use me. May I be granted the grace to allow the Almighty Father to speak through my littleness and loneliness, too, for the glory of God and the salvation of souls. Amen.
I was three when my life turned upside down. Nothing was ever the same again, until I met Him! At three years of age, I had a heavy fever followed by a sudden seizure, after which I started showing signs of facial palsy. By the time I was five, my face became visibly asymmetric. Life ceased to be smooth. As my parents kept reaching out to new hospitals, the pain and mental damage I went through became too much to bear—the repeated questions, the weird looks, the effects and aftereffects of new medications every once in a while… Crawling into a Cocoon I was comfortable alone because, ironically, groups made me feel lonely. I was so scared that the kids next door might cry out loud if I smiled at them. I remember the sweets my dad brought home every night to help me drink the unpleasant medicine, which was overloaded with bitterness. The weekly walks with my mother along the hospital corridors for the physiotherapy sessions were never a weekend trip—every time the vibrations from the stimulator hit my face, tears would start to roll down. There were some beautiful souls who soothed my fears and pain, like my parents, who never gave up on me. They took me to every hospital they possibly could, and we tried a variety of treatments. Later, I would also see them devastated when neurosurgery was suggested. For the first time in my life, I felt that I was being lived out somewhere else. I had to do something. So, in the first semester of college, unable to bear it any longer, I decided to discontinue the medicines. Discovering Beauty After I stopped the meds, I had an adrenaline rush to create something on my own. I welcomed a new life, but I was totally clueless about how I should live it. I started writing more, dreaming more, painting more, and searching for colors in all the grey areas of life. Those were the days I started actively participating in the Jesus Youth Movement (an international Catholic movement approved by the Holy See); I started to slowly learn how to open myself to God’s love and feel loved again… The realization of the importance of the Catholic lifestyle helped me understand my purpose. I started to believe again that I am so much more than everything that has happened to me. Now, when I look back at those moments marked by the closed doors, I can clearly see that within each rejection, the ever-compassionate presence of Jesus accompanied me, enveloping me with His boundless love and understanding. I recognize who I’ve become and the wounds I’ve healed from. Reason to Hold on Our Lord says: “Since you are precious and honored in my sight, and because I love you, I will give people in exchange for you, nations in exchange for your life. Do not be afraid, for I am with you.” (Isaiah 43:4-5) Finding Him in my insecurities was never an easy task. While having plenty of reasons to move farther, it was all about finding that one reason to stay. And it gave me strength and confidence to live through my vulnerabilities. The journey of finding my worth, dignity, and joy in Christ was simply wonderful. We often complain about not finding grace even after the struggles we go through. I think it’s all about seeing through the struggles. Expressing honesty in the slightest adjustment in life without any sort of wrath brings light to your life. It was quite a journey. And while He is still writing my story, I’m learning each day to embrace more, reach out without inhibitions, and make room for little joys in life. My prayers no longer hold the constant need for things I desire. Instead, I’m asking Him to strengthen me to say ‘Amen’ to the changes that keep happening along the way. I’m praying that He heals and transforms me from all the negative influences within and around me. I’m asking Him to revive the parts of me that were lost. I’m thanking Him for everything I’ve been through, all the blessings I receive every minute of the day, and for the person I’ve become. And I’m trying my best to love Him with all my heart and soul.
It was July 1936, the height of the Spanish war. El Pelé was walking through the streets of Barbastro, Spain, when a huge commotion captured his attention. As he rushed to the source, he saw soldiers dragging a priest through the streets. He couldn’t just stand on the fringes and watch; he rushed to defend the priest. The soldiers weren’t intimidated and shouted at him to surrender his weapon. He held up his rosary and told them: “I have only this.” Ceferino Giménez Malla, fondly known as El Pelé, was a Romani—a community often pejoratively referred to as Gypsies and looked down upon by mainstream society. But Pelé was held in great esteem not only by his own community, even educated people respected this illiterate man for his honesty and wisdom. When he was arrested and imprisoned in 1936, his wife had passed away, and he was already a grandfather. Even in prison, he continued to hold fast to his rosary. Everyone, even his daughter, begged him to give it up. His friends advised him that if he stopped praying, his life might be saved. But for El Pelé, to give up his rosary or to stop praying was symbolic of denying his faith. So, at the age of 74, he was shot dead and thrown in a mass grave. This brave soldier of Christ died shouting: "Long live Christ the King!" still holding a rosary in his hands. Sixty years later, Blessed Ceferino Giménez Malla became the first of the Romani community ever to be beatified, proving again that the Savior is ever-present to everyone who calls upon Him, irrespective of color or creed.
To be good at anything, we have to put time, effort, and practice into it. The same applies to our preparation for eternity. How well are we going to do at the end of year exams if we have put little or no time towards studying during the year? Similarly, how well will we stand up on judgment day when we are held accountable for our lives? In our preparation period on earth for eternity, how much of our life was spent in prayer, good works, and sacrifice? Our Lord paid the ultimate price for our salvation, but we have to play our part. As He has graciously allowed us to be part of that sacrifice, let us not waste this valuable opportunity. He, through Calvary, has given us a chance to be part of His redemption, to be part of His sanctity, consequently allowing mere humans to be called into sainthood. What a privilege! As my mother would always remind us, children, this life of ours on earth, short or long, is but a preparation period, the springboard to eternity. How we fare in the structure of eternal life will be determined not only by Jesus’ death and resurrection, but by every thought, word, and deed we perpetrated during the time we spent on earth.
God answers prayers and sometimes He goes so far beyond anything we ever believed could happen... There’s a popular television commercial that aired for many years portraying an injured person desperately calling out, “Help, I’ve fallen and I can’t get up!” Although they’re just actors selling a medical alert system that summons help in case of an emergency, each time I’ve seen that commercial I’ve wondered what it would be like to be in such a desperate vulnerable position. Being alone and incapable of getting back up after falling must feel stressful and frightening. Fortunately there are companies and gadgets we can rely on to put safety measures in place for us or our endangered loved ones. Recurring Dilemma That commercial came to mind one day when I was examining my conscience in preparation to receive the Sacrament of Penance (also known as Reconciliation or Confession). After reflecting on the things that were offensive to God that took me further from His presence, it was frustrating to fall off the path to holiness again and again. It occurred that there were things that I needed to confess that I’d previously confessed often. Saint Paul talks about his struggles with the same dilemma. In the book of Romans (7:15-19) he said, “I cannot understand my own behavior. I fail to carry out the things I want to do, and find myself doing the very things I hate...instead of doing the good things I want to do, I carry out the sinful things I do not want.” This is a struggle we all experience. The Catechism of the Catholic Church defines this unwanted inclination to sin as “concupiscence”. It was easy to relate to the actor in the commercial because spiritually I’d fallen, and it felt like I couldn’t get back up. Drawing away from God placed me in a desperate, vulnerable position deprived of many of the graces He offers us. My relationship with God was damaged, and the thought of staying in that fallen state was stressful and frightening. However, Jesus loves me. He’s merciful and has put safety measures in place for all of us who still suffer with the unwanted inclination to sin. Unceasing Prayer The church my family attended offered the Sacrament of Penance an hour before the Saturday evening Vigil Mass. It was important for me to go to Confession on Saturday because I valued my relationship with God and wanted to restore it. I asked my husband if he would join me when confessions finished, so that we could attend Mass together. To my delight, he agreed. He was raised Methodist and for over 25 years it had been my unceasing prayer that God would place the desire on his heart to come into the fullness of his faith, by becoming a member of the Catholic Church. For now, I was waiting on God’s timing and was just happy that we’d be together. The church wasn’t crowded, so before long I was kneeling before the priest to confess my sins. Confessing sin requires humility, but the joy of absolution left me feeling new and restored. After completing the penance from the priest, my heart no longer felt heavily weighed down by sin. Everything around me and in me was quiet, as a sense of peace encompassed my spirit once again. Repeatedly, I thanked God for His mercy. At one point, I sighed with contentment, “Lord, I don’t want to spoil this moment by asking you for anything. I just want to thank You over and over again. I want to be like the one leper who came back to thank You after You healed him.” I knelt there engulfed in His holy presence and understood what being in a state of grace really felt like. Jesus had restored our relationship and we were one again. However, being still and quiet is a virtue that is a regular struggle for me. It wasn’t long before a strong impulse to ask God for just one thing popped into my head. “Lord, just one thing and it isn’t for myself. Please give my husband the desire to become Catholic. I want him to know what this feels like.” Time in quiet prayer passed quickly and it wasn’t long before my husband sat beside me. I’ve heard it said that when you pray in the state of grace, your prayers are clearly heard by God. You’re so close to Him that He can hear the whispers of your heart. I’m not sure if that’s solid Catholic doctrine, but it makes a point of how important it is to remain close to God. When Mass began that evening, the priest welcomed everyone and he asked us to take a quiet moment to offer our Mass up for any personal intentions we might have that evening. His prompting was wonderful but not the way he usually opened the Mass. Not wanting to waste the moment, I immediately repeated the prayer for my husband to come into the Catholic faith. I’d never heard that priest begin the Mass like that before or since that evening. In hindsight, it was a good indication that God’s answer to my prayer was imminent. The intention remained in my heart for the rest of Mass, and I felt very connected to both God and my husband. Startling News On our way home, my husband unexpectedly said he had something to tell me. It was a very good thing that he was driving, because the following words might have startled me into swerving off the road. “I have decided that I want to enroll in the RCIA (Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults) program at our church and see if I want to become a Catholic.” Stunned, I said nothing. Thoughts and emotions swirled through my mind and body. I recall asking God: “What was happening here? Had the Sacrament of Reconciliation cleared up the connection for you to hear my prayer? Had my personal Mass intention been heard? Were You really answering my prayers after all these years?” After regaining my composure, my husband and I talked about his decision. We had been attending Mass together for our entire marriage and it was important to him that our family went to one church. Through the years, he had had many questions, but had grown to love and trust the Catholic Church as his family. The Holy Spirit guided him to understand that was the right time to fully commit to becoming a part of that family and be able to partake in all the sacraments and their graces. The following Easter Vigil, after he’d completed the RCIA program, my husband was finally confirmed as a member of the Catholic Church, filling us both with great joy. My heart continues to dance with joy, unceasingly thanking God for this long-awaited answer to my prayer. More Surprises in Store! But wait, there’s more! God knew I’d asked Him if he’d really heard and answered my prayers. He wanted to make sure I knew for certainty that He had, because more surprises were in store. Two of our sons were in solid relationships. Both were wonderful young women who had grown up walking with the Lord in their Protestant faith. They too had been regularly included in my prayers for conversion to the Catholic faith, although I had not specifically prayed for them that evening. Within a week of that special Mass, independent of each other, both young women shared with me that they intended to become Catholics. I know with certainty that my husband's decision to become a Catholic was not a mere coincidence and as an added bonus: those wonderful young women are now my daughters- in-law. Praise God! I don’t pretend to know the mind of God, nor how the 3 of them, independent of each other, decided to become Catholics. It’s a miracle to me and I am happy to leave it at that. Okay, not exactly...one more thing. I believe that when we do something that hurts our relationship with God, we need to go to Him in Confession and say we are sorry. I believe that when we truly want to get our relationship right with God, He wants to bless us. I believe that prayer really does work and He wants to answer us. I believe that God loves me and blessed me not once, not twice, but three times that Saturday, but He wanted me to also know that He hears ALL my prayers at ALL times no matter what state I am in. I knew that I had fallen and, because of concupiscence, I am likely to fall again. Alleluia, there is good news! Even when I cannot understand my own behavior; even when I fail to carry out the things I want to do, and find myself doing the very things I hate...even when I don’t do the good things I want to do, and carry out the sinful things I do not want; with God’s grace and through His forgiveness, I know I am not alone, I don’t have to be stressed, frightened or stay fallen. I CAN get back up. Saint Paul, pray for us. Amen.
A special interview with Dr. Thomas D. Jones who went on four separate shuttle missions with NASA. On one of those missions, he was actually able to take the Eucharist with him! Tell us about what it was like to be out in space looking out at the stars and back at the Earth. How did that impact your faith in Jesus? To realize my professional dream of flying in space, which every astronaut hopes for, I had to wait for almost 30 years. So my first flight was the realization of a childhood dream. Gazing out at this immense view of the cosmos surrounding our home planet, gave me a chance to think about why I was there. It was such an emotional experience to truly see the incredible beauty of the universe, and our home planet in all its lovely variety— really breathtaking. I just felt so thankful to God for the chance to be there physically—overwhelmed by His grace and Presence. You are known as one of the astronauts who was able to bring the Eucharist into space. For all of us who are believers, that is just so inspiring. Could you share that whole experience? It was certainly amazing to all of us who participated. One can't go anywhere as remote as space and forget about your spiritual life. It is faith that helped me succeed on Earth and this is the same faith that I was counting on to help me succeed in space. On my first flight in 1994, aboard the shuttle, Endeavour, there were two other Catholic astronauts. When we got together to prepare for the 11 day mission, we talked about how wonderful it would be to take the Eucharist with us into space. So, because Kevin Chilton, our pilot on the flight, was an extraordinary minister of Holy Communion, we were able to receive permission from our pastor to bring the Blessed Sacrament with us. Every moment of the eleven-day-flight was tightly scheduled, but our Catholic commander, Sid Gutierrez, was able to find a spot about seven days in, when we were comfortable with how the mission was going, for a ten-minute Communion service. So, on that Sunday—our second Sunday in space— we took a pause from all the business of the mission to spend ten minutes alone in the cockpit with the God who had made this all possible, and share Holy Communion with Him. Indeed, it was a recognition that we could never have reached that point without His presence among us. It was really satisfying to bring our faith-life into space and to know that He was there, physically, with us. Have you ever found it difficult to bring Science and Faith together? Could you elaborate on the relationship between science and faith? Throughout my professional career, I have known many scientists who are spiritual, and they have their own faith practices. Right here in northern Virginia, I have met several Catholic scientists and engineers in my own church who share a strong faith. They believe in God’s Creation, and in the biblical inspiration of how we understand the universe. I think most people have some spiritual elements in their lives. I have known astronauts who are not formally religious, but they were all moved by the spiritual experience of space travel. So I have found that most people are open to what the universe and the natural world around us reveal in terms of how we understand Creation. Scientists are so curious, like all humans, about the nature of the universe and what we can learn about it. To me, this is a sign that science and spirituality go hand in hand. Our curiosity and interest in nature and how it functions, how the universe is put together and how it was created—that curiosity was given to us because we're made in the likeness of God. That's part of His personality imparted to us. So I think that this search for the truth about the natural world is a part of our innate nature as human beings. I believe that the quest for knowledge is something that gives God a lot of pleasure—to see the creatures that He has made seeking out the secrets of how He has put the universe together. Mind you, He's not trying to keep it a secret. He just wants it to be unveiled through our own efforts, ingenuity and curiosity. So, to me, there's not a lot of conflict between Science and Nature and Spirituality. I think that people trying to separate them are attempting to split human nature into a rational half and a spiritual half. Of course, that can’t be done. A person is one human being whose nature can't be separated. On your space missions you were accomplishing, in many ways, the epitome of human achievement. Doing something really great, and yet encountering something so much greater in magnitude—the glory and the majesty of God's creation… What was it like to have accomplished so much, while still recognizing your own smallness compared to God? To me it all crystallized on my last mission. I was helping build the space station, doing three space walks to install a science lab called Destiny. Near the end of my last spacewalk, I was out on the very front end of the space station. Since I was ahead of our work schedule, NASA’s Mission Control let me hang out for about five minutes out there. By holding on to the front of the space station with my fingertips, I was able to rotate around so I could see the immensity of space surrounding me. I looked down at the Earth, 220 miles straight down past my boots to the deep blue of the Pacific Ocean. I was floating there looking out to the horizon—a thousand miles away--and then the endless, black sky up above my head. About 100 feet above me, the space station glowed like gold with sunlight reflected from its solar panels, as we silently fell around the world together. This amazing view was so incredibly beautiful that it brought tears to my eyes. I was overwhelmed by this feeling, ‘Here I am, a highly trained astronaut on this space station, cruising around the Earth, yet I’m just a puny human being compared to this vast cosmos out there.’ God pulled the curtain back a little bit for me, letting me see that magnificent vastness in a personal way. I felt, “Yes, you're very special because you're getting to see this view”, but was reminded of how insignificant we all are in the vast universe which God has created. Feeling important and being humbled at the same time was a gift from God. It literally brought tears to my eyes as I thanked the Lord, thrilled to be sharing this view with Him. Very few humans ever have the experience and privilege of seeing Earth from that perspective, and it was all thanks to Him. There’s a lot of confusion in the world right now…a lot of darkness and suffering; but when you look at the world either from that very unique vantage point that you had in Space, or now in your current state of life, what's giving you hope? I think what inspires me is that we've been given very curious minds by God. We've got this innate curiosity and that's made us problem solvers and explorers. So, even with all the challenges we are beset by today, whether it's a pandemic, or the threat of war, or feeding seven billion people around the world, we've got the skills that we've been given and we're called to put them to good use in order to solve these problems. There is a vast universe out there, full of resources. It challenges us, but if we look beyond our home world into the solar system and the universe, there are a lot of things that we can make use of. Vast material resources on the Moon and nearby asteroids can supplement those we find on Earth. There's a colossal supply of solar energy which could be harvested from space and beamed down to the world to help supply everybody with the power and electricity that they need to succeed. We've got the ability to ward off rogue asteroids that have often struck Earth, and because we've got space skills and the minds to develop a way to defend our planet, we can prevent these most terrible of natural disasters. So, we don't have to go the way of the dinosaurs if we use the skills that we've acquired and put ourselves to the task. We live in a world that encourages us to use our curiosity and intelligence to solve these problems. So I’m very optimistic that by applying our skills and the technology we develop, we can stay ahead of all these challenges. Look at the vaccine that we developed just this year to fight the virus. That's a mark of what we can do when we put our minds to something, whether it's putting a man on the Moon or sending the first woman to Mars. I think we're in good shape for the future as well. ---- ARTICLE is based on the special interview given by Dr. Thomas D.Jones for the Shalom World program “Glory to God.” To watch the episode visit: shalomworld.org/episode/an-astronauts-faith-drthomas-d-jones
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I didn’t know their language or their emotional pain...How could I connect with them? Thursday, February 22, 2024, is a day I will never forget. At 05:15 AM, along with several of my colleagues in Catholic Social Services, I awaited the arrival of 333 refugees from Ethiopia, Eritrea, Somalia, and Uganda. Egyptian Airlines was entrusted with flying them from Entebbe, Uganda, to Cairo, Egypt, and finally to their Canadian entry point, Edmonton. Suddenly, the doors at the other end opened and the passengers started walking toward us. Not knowing how to speak their languages, I felt extremely vulnerable. How would I, as one so privileged to be born in Canada, one who has never spent a moment in a refugee camp, be able to greet these exhausted, hopeful, apprehensive sisters and brothers in a way that would say: “Welcome to your new home”...? I asked one of my colleagues who speaks five languages: “What can I say?” “Just say, Salam, that will be enough”. Suddenly, the doors at the other end opened and the passengers started walking toward us. Not knowing how to speak their languages, I felt extremely vulnerable. How would I, as one so privileged to be born in Canada, one who has never spent a moment in a refugee camp, be able to greet these exhausted, hopeful, apprehensive sisters and brothers in a way that would say: “Welcome to your new home”...? I asked one of my colleagues who speaks five languages: “What can I say?” “Just say, Salam, that will be enough”. Extending a Hand After everyone was lined up in the Customs Hall, our team went downstairs and began passing out bottles of water, granola bars, and oranges. I noticed one older Muslim woman, perhaps 50-55 years of age, bent over her trolley, trying to push it. I went and greeted her with ‘Salam’ and smiled. With gestures, I tried to ask if I could help push her trolley. She shook her head: “No.” Six hours later, outside the Customs Hall, people were sitting in different cordoned-off areas; only 85 would be remaining in Edmonton and were waiting for family or friends to meet them and take them home. Some would be boarding a bus to be taken to other cities or towns, and still others would be overnighting in a hotel and would fly to their final destination the next day. For those who were being bussed to other cities in Alberta, a four to seven-hour trip awaited them. The elderly Muslim woman I had seen in the Customs Hall, I discovered, was to fly to Calgary the next day. I looked at her and smiled, and her whole face was radiant. As I approached her, she said in faltering English: “You love me.” I took her hands in mine, looked into her eyes, and said: “Yes, I love you and God/Allah loves you.” The young woman next to her, whom I discovered was her daughter, said to me: “Thank you. Now my Mom is happy.” With tears in my eyes, a heart full of joy, and very tired feet, I left the Edmonton International Airport, profoundly grateful for one of the most beautiful experiences of my life. I may never encounter her again, but I know with absolute certainty that our God who is the embodiment of tender, compassionate love was made visible and tangible to me through my beautiful Muslim sister. In 2023, there were 36.4 million refugees seeking a new homeland and 110 million people displaced because of war, drought, climate change, and more. Day in and day out, we hear comments like: “Build walls,” “Close the borders,” and “They are stealing our jobs.” I hope that my story will, in some small way, help people understand the scene of Matthew 25 better. The righteous asked Jesus: “When Lord, God, did we do all these for you?” and He replied: “Whenever you did it to one of these little ones of Mine, you did it to Me.”
Crosses came in one after the other, but the Lord’s mercy never failed this family! I gave birth to my firstborn ten years ago, and we were overjoyed! I still remember the day; we were so glad to know that it was a baby girl. I couldn’t thank the Lord enough for His blessings upon my family. Like every mother, I dreamt of buying cute frocks, clips, and booties for my little doll. We named her ‘Athalie,’ meaning ‘God is exalted.’ We were praising God for His beautiful gift. Little did we know that our joy would soon be turned into a deep heartache or that our prayer of gratitude would soon be replaced with petitions for His mercy for our precious baby. At four months old, she became severely sick. With multiple seizure attacks, she would cry for hours and couldn’t sleep or feed well. After multiple tests, she was diagnosed with brain damage; she was also suffering from a rare kind of severe childhood epilepsy named ‘West Syndrome,’ which affects one in 4,000 children. Repeated Blows The diagnosis was too shocking and heartbreaking for us. I didn’t know how I could face the storm. I wanted my heart to be numb to the emotional pain I was going through. Many questions ran through my mind. This was just the beginning of a long and painful journey that I was never prepared to take. My baby girl continued to suffer from seizures for almost two and a half years. Doctors tried multiple medicines, painful daily injections, and numerous blood tests. She would cry for hours and all I could do was to ask for God to bestow His mercy on my child. I felt helpless for not being able to comfort her in any way. Life felt like a deep and dark pit of agony and despair. Her seizures eventually subsided, but she suffered global developmental delays. As her treatment was progressing, another shocking news rattled our family. Our son Asher, who was having speech delay and behavioral issues, was diagnosed with high-functioning autism at the age of three. We were on the verge of losing hope; life felt too overwhelming for us as new parents. No one could understand or feel the pain we were going through. We felt lonely and miserable. However, this period of loneliness and the painful days of motherhood brought me closer to God; His Word provided solace to my weary soul. His promises, which I was now reading with a deeper meaning and fuller understanding, encouraged me. Spirit-led Penmanship It was during this difficult season of my life that God enabled me to write faith-filled and encouraging blogs for people going through challenges and suffering similar to mine. My articles, birthed from my daily devotions, shared the challenges of special parenthood and included my life experiences and insights. God used my words to heal many aching souls. I am truly grateful to Him for turning my life into a useful vessel for His love. I would say that the despair of our daughter’s sickness solidified our family’s faith in God. As my husband and I ventured onto the unknown path of this unique parenthood journey, all that we had to cling to were the promises of God and the faith in our hearts that God will never leave nor forsake us. What once appeared like heaps of ashes began to turn into beauty of strength as God extended His grace, peace, and joy to us during the most heart-wrenching and dark season of our life. In the loneliest moments, spending time at His feet brought us renewed hope and the courage to move ahead. Answered Prayers After years of treatment and unending prayers, Athalie’s seizures are now controlled, but she continues to have a severe form of cerebral palsy. She can’t talk, walk, see, or sit by herself and is completely dependent on me. Having recently moved from India to Canada, our family is currently receiving the best treatment. A substantial improvement in her health is making our lives more colorful. Asher is out of the spectrum, and he has caught up completely on his speech. After many schools had initially rejected him because of his inattentiveness, I home-schooled him till grade five. Though he shows a few traits of ADHD, by God’s grace, he is now enrolled in grade six in a private Christian school. He is a book lover who shows a unique interest in the solar system. He loves learning about different countries, their flags, and maps. Though life is still filled with challenges, the love of God is what makes us parent our children with love, patience, and kindness. As we continue to embrace the hope we have in Jesus and travel through this unique path of special-needs-parenting, I believe that there are times when we have answers to our prayers right away, and our faith works and produces results. In those times, God’s strength and power are revealed in what He does for us—the sure answer to our prayers. On other occasions, His strength continues to shine through us, enabling us to endure our pain with courage, letting us experience His loving mercies in our difficulties, showing us His power in our weaknesses, teaching us to develop the ability and wisdom to take the right steps ahead, empowering us to tell stories of His strength, and encouraging us to witness His light and hope amidst our challenges.
John Taylor was in his mid-50s when he came home one day from a game of golf and shared with his wife a strange pain he had begun to experience in his hands. He was soon diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, a rare form of cancer that would slowly reduce his athletic body to mere skin and bones in a span of just 20 years. As the illness grew in strength, part of his tongue was removed; he couldn’t speak or eat, so he was fed directly through a tube. Though I had trouble understanding what he was saying, I enjoyed his company very much. He had a great sense of humor, and Anne was a beautiful cook, so I ended up spending many evenings with the family. In 2011, at the height of his illness, John, who belonged to the Church of Wales, expressed his desire to become a Catholic like his wife Anne! On Christmas Eve, a Mass was held for him in their living room. At the time of Holy Communion, I poured a little jug of the Precious Blood through his tube directly into his stomach so that he could celebrate his First Holy Communion. It was one of the most extraordinary First Holy Communions I've ever seen and one of the most beautiful Christmas Eve of my life. The memory of that day and that blessed couple still reminds me of what I am doing as a priest—bringing the Incarnation and the Precious Blood of Christ to the world. During his last days, John bled profusely every morning, so Anne had to repeatedly change his bedclothes. It was extraordinary—while John’s state reminded me of the crucified Christ, Anne was configured to the Virgin Mary who stood by and took care of Him in His passion. We buried Anne last year, more than a decade after John’s passing. Jesus said the Saints would shine like stars in the Kingdom of God; now, with two more, the night sky is brighter.
Why would the Mighty God become a wailing baby in a place that smells of dung? One of the stranger aspects of the Annunciation that precedes the Birth of Jesus is how the Archangel Gabriel addresses Mary as “Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you.” (Luke 1:28) What will ensue is that she will be a teen mother, pregnant before her actual marriage to Joseph, and she will be destined to give birth in a cave or stable amongst barn animals. She might be forgiven if she suspected that Gabriel was engaging in some angelic sarcasm. Then fast-forward thirty-three years when she will be at the foot of the Cross and will watch her Son die an excruciating death among thieves before a jeering crowd. How is all of that being ‘favored?’ A Radical Statement The whole Christmas story is full of enigma and violates expectations. To begin with, the Creator of the entire cosmos, with its billions of galaxies, who is absolutely self-sufficient and doesn’t need anything from anyone, chooses to become a creature, a human being. The Alpha and the Omega is presented to us as a baby, delivered with all the messiness of childbirth without an attendant doctor or nurses, at a place smelling of dung. As Bishop Barron once described the Incarnation: “There is a Catholic joke here: you either get it or you don’t.” As we stand before this scene, if God can come here amidst utter deprivation and straw, He can come anywhere. He can come into the messiness of my life. If God came there at that stable in Bethlehem, He has come everywhere; there is no place or time that is God-forsaken. If we pull back from the scene, an odd perspective kicks in. The largest figures at that time—Caesar Augustus, Governor Quirinius, King Herod—have gotten smaller; indeed, they have disappeared. The smaller figures—Mary, Joseph, the random shepherds—loom large: Mary is the Queen of Heaven and Joseph is the patron of the Church, the mystical Body of his adopted Son, Jesus. Baby Jesus, the smallest and most helpless of figures, wrapped in protective swaddling clothes, will loom so large that He will blot out the sun and moon and fill the sky with the song: “Glory to God in the highest Heaven, and on earth peace among those whom He favors!” (Luke 2:14) The Nativity story is rich in theological meaning, but there’s more to it. A radical statement is being made. Jesus is given the name Immanuel, which means ‘God is with us.’ And that means Jesus is God in the flesh: He is much more than a prophet, a teacher, or a healer; He is the human face of God. The second Person of the Trinity has entered into human existence not because He needs something but for our sake—for our salvation. The implication is remarkable. As Saint Augustine reminds us: “If you were the only person on this earth, the Son of God would have done everything, including dying, for your sake.” It means that there are no insignificant or pointless lives. It means that Immanuel is with us every moment of our existence, which entails that the ordinary events and choices I make on an average day can carry eternal significance. Why? Saint Paul reminds us: “We move, live, and have our being” in Christ Jesus (Act 17:28). It means that our sacred story has meaning and purpose—a life that encourages courage and self-giving generosity, just like the Lord we worship in whatever desolate place we find ourselves. In Life or Death… The birth of Christ should be the source of hope, and this is not the same thing as optimism, which is more a genetic disposition rather than a foundation of life. Some of us, in contrast, have to deal with a genetic affliction of depression, which can bathe one’s life in darkness. But, even amid this dark cloud, we can find glimpses of purpose, beauty, and glory and this too can serve. Sometimes, we experience isolation and loneliness brought on by debilitating illnesses such as chronic pain and degenerative disease. God is there, God is with us. In a shattered relationship, betrayal, or a cancer diagnosis, God is with us. He doesn’t abandon us in a hospital or a mental ward. In life or death, Jesus will never leave us or abandon us because He is Immanuel. Faith in Jesus does not release us from suffering, but it can bring deliverance from fear because we have a container, a Person, who can integrate everything into our lives. The birth of Jesus means that every moment we are blessed to live, even in a difficult and shortened life, can be infused with God’s presence and ennobled by His calling. Our hope comes to fruition on Christmas Day, which shines like the star that guided the Magi and swells like a song chanted by monks and Gospel choirs throughout the centuries, filling churches, cathedrals, basilicas, and revival tents, but that song is most clear in our won hearts: “God is with us!”
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