Josefina's First Holy Communion

Josefina after the Mass, with her Daddy.

This is 8 years earlier, before she had another setback
in the NICU. She was there the first 7 months of her
life. Many prayers brought her from then to today!

During this past year, Jojo was well prepared by John XXIII Montessori Center's Catechesis of the Good Shepherd program. Here is a picture of her working on the Last Supper and using the materials to see its relationship to the Mass of the present time.

Materials used in the Last Supper work.

She's perhaps the smallest in size of today's CGS first communion kids. Afterwards, we celebrated by having a lovely family dinner out.

Speaking of food, mine included this salmon and asparagus salad, and a beer that deserved (and got) a picture all it's own.

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UPDATE: from May 10... Josefina wore her First Communion dress again on Sunday, so we were able to take a few more pictures. Let me post a couple of them here also.

Now we got Jojo with Daddy and Mommy both. And below, we have Jojo in the bright sunlight, next to the wall of the old church. She's less than twice as tall as the bushes! :-)

Open to the Holy Spirit's Grace

Lucia Janaro and parents, on her Confirmation day.

This is the first time that I can remember a Confirmation taking place on All Saints Day.

But that's what happened in the parish this year. And so Lucia Janaro received the sacrament today along with more than 60 other young people. This sacrament of royal anointing, this outpouring of the abundance of grace and the gifts of the Holy Spirit, means so much more than we can understand.

It certainly is not intended to be a "graduation ceremony," or a Catholic checking-off-the-box that brings faith education (and faith interest) to an end. Too often that is what happens.

We are blessed, however, to be in an environment where the education continues and deepens. There is some awareness among us that the journey of faith is just beginning for an adolescent who is discovering his or her own identity for the first time.

Still, we must be careful not to think things happen automatically just because we presume that we are such "good Catholics" or that we-are-so-much-better-than-everybody-else. We must remember that it is Jesus who gives the Holy Spirit. It is Jesus who gives grace through the sacraments and in the depths of our hearts, and in the hearts of our children.

Every life is an adventure of grace, a calling from God who draws the person along the secret ways of love. Let us pray for the grace to make room for the working of His love.

The Most Important "Work" of Marriage

Lately there has been a lot of talk about marriage in the blog world (especially among Catholic Christians). Young couples enter into Christian marriage, perhaps, with starry eyes and optimism and even a bit of forgivable "overconfidence." We've been there, and felt that way. We know that time will teach them the hard work of married life, of unity and fidelity, of the experience of discord (even the Pope recently mentioned how "throwing plates around" is a normal experience of spousal argument).

But, above all, time (and their openness in faith and love) will allow them to experience the inexhaustible power of the grace of the Holy Spirit and the presence of Jesus in the sacrament of marriage. The hope, of course, is that Christian newlyweds are prepared in such a way that they truly believe in this grace from the beginning. Nevertheless, the whole of married life is an ever deeper verification of the reality of the grace of marriage and it's superabundant adequacy to endure and to grow through a vast array of unimaginable circumstances.

All of this is very true. Older married couples can list circumstances of good times and bad, sickness and health, a million awkward things about sharing life right down to who hogs the blankets every night. We can talk about the importance of nurturing our unity through these circumstances and through communication and trust and forgiveness.

All of this is very true.

But there is something lacking in this conversation. Maybe we take it for granted because it's so obvious. Or perhaps because it's so unique, and so seemingly "beyond us" when we think about ourselves as married couples that it gets left out when we theorize about marriage.

Eileen and I would say after almost 18 years -- and through many trials involving work, money, my disability, illness, and such -- that the experience of our marriage is marked overwhelmingly by five very precise, very unique circumstances that unite us deeply and personally, in wonder and prayer, in fear and trembling.  

Their names are John Paul, Agnese, Lucia, Teresa, and Josefina.

In the old days this was called the primary end of marriage, articulated in what may seem to be less than soul stirring language as "the procreation and education of offspring" (I've never been keen on the word offspring. It makes me feel like we're bugs or something. How about another word, like children.)

Of course, husband and wife must love each other. But this unity is inseparable from the fruitfulness it engenders; it exists within that fruitfulness. The sacrament of marriage is the fountain of that most basic community of persons, the family. Even if spouses cannot procreate physically for some reason, their unity has an intrinsic fruitfulness of radical constructive hospitality that God will reveal to them (whether it be adoption, foster care, or some other special charism of giving to the larger community).

So marriage is about building up the relationship, the "two-becoming-one-flesh," the friendship, the mutual help, the fidelity. It's a relationship between two people, a husband and a wife. And yet, precisely insofar as it succeeds in really being a genuine spousal unity, it will transcend these two persons, it will "take flesh" in life -- and not only in the agreements about things like leaving the toilet seat up or down -- but above all in other living human beings, which means that if nature is unhindered these will be new human beings, new persons created by God within the radical openness to Him that spousal love entails.

Let me put it simply: marriage is about children. That doesn't mean reducing an interpersonal relationship to a mechanism for "reproduction," for cranking out offspring. It means that married love is radically at the disposal of God's creative action. Married love is procreative; it is God's instrument for engendering and fostering human community. It is interpersonal love, and that is why it includes the possibility of human reason discerning the will of God regarding all the NFP stuff, because married love must always be radically at the disposal of God's creative action, even when a given expression of love is not seeking to result in a child. After all, men and women don't produce babies. Rather, their love creates a space of psychosomatic unity within which God creates new human persons.

Thus marriage is the stuff of families, of children and then of grandchildren, of communities and eventually of peoples who encounter one another. And the sacrament of marriage in Christ builds up God's people, who go out into all the world bringing the gift of his love.

When we speak about married life, let's not forget about family, about our children, or (as the nuptial blessing puts it) our childrens' children. The family is not in competition with the unity between the husband and wife; rather it is the place where that unity is most profoundly expressed and lived.

And children are never abstract. They are the history of the husband and wife loving each other in God. Eileen and I don't just have some anonymous "offspring." We have been given John Paul, Agnese, Lucia, Teresa, and Josefina. Each is loved uniquely by God, is uniquely His image and likeness, and is destined to live and love and share in His glory.

As Eileen and I journey together toward the Lord, our children remain the great, astonishing, incalculable surprises, the mysteries, the primary expressions and concrete engagement of our unity, and our most profound "common interest." In front of each of them, we remain in awe of God, and of each other.

Confession: A New Beginning in Grace

Last week I wrote about the sacrament of Reconciliation, and how great a gift it is for anyone who wants to live a faithful Christian life. I recently revised that post a bit; you can click on the title to see some new reflections woven in with the old: (Confession: Encountering The Mercy of Jesus). I also thought it would be worth reflecting on that more radical effect of this sacrament: the forgiveness of serious sins and a new beginning in grace brought about by the mercy of God. This is neither a treatise nor even an exhaustive reflection. Its a blog post. Here are my thoughts:

We think of confession primarily as the sacrament that restores the life of grace to baptized Catholics who have lost it through the spiritual death of serious sin (i.e. mortal sin). And this is indeed true. How many of us have wept with gratitude when being reconciled to God after foolishly abandoning Him in pursuit of something that seemed so good, but turned out to be false, bitter, and empty. We abandoned God's love for our own folly or pride or self-indulgence. But God never stops loving us, and He calls us to come and let our hearts be filled with His love once more.

There are so many people of recent generations who were born and baptized Catholic, but lacked the catechesis that forms the eyes, the mind and the heart to recognize Christ in the Church as the real truth of life. So they went their own ways (sometimes for many years), and eventually found themselves cheated by the false promises of sin, and trapped in an ugly and self-destructive life.

For long lost "cradle" Catholics (and other baptized Christians who run from Christ and travel many roads, but in the end find their way to the fullness of Catholic faith), the sacrament of Reconciliation is the place where they find God's mercy, and where they can leave their heavy burdens. The sacrament of Reconciliation is the open arms of a father who has never ceased seeking and longing for his child to return home.

Herein lies its magnificent testimony to God's inexhaustible mercy and love given by Christ through the Church. We can do more than just beg for God's mercy in private prayer (although we should do this also, so that the Spirit will lead us). We can go to a place, and receive that mercy now.

Many of course fear that they cannot leave behind their sinful habits. They know that their struggles have only led to failure. The problem is that they are struggling by themselves.

Go to confession and let Christ take on the struggle with you and in you. Trust in Him. It may take time and you may fall again. Go back again. You are not alone. You have a home now. Let the priest guide you. God does not "run out" of mercy. Through the grace of the sacrament, Jesus will forge an new freedom in you.

Go to confession today. Go during the time when confessions are offered. It can be a very simple thing. Or else, call a Catholic church and arrange to see a priest. He is but a poor instrument of Christ, but he is a guarantee that Christ is here for you, right now. Let Jesus love you. Come home.

I have known in my own life the beauty and the peace of "coming home." I'm far from perfect (see the previous post), but I know where to find Jesus. I know that I need Him. I know that nothing in this world can compare to the embrace of His mercy.

Confession: Encountering The Mercy of Jesus

I finally had the chance to go to confession, fulfilling the desire I had last week on my birthday (see post dated January 4). I am 50 years old. I made my first confession when I was 7 years old. A lot of confessions. A lot of mercy.

It is a wonder, really. Here is the same Jesus who said to the paralytic, "your sins are forgiven." Now this same Person says this surprising and seemingly impossible thing to me two thousand years later, through the ministry of a priest.

It is a sacrament, a mystery of God's love that happens at a specific time and a specific place; a gift of grace that I receive in a historical way, from Jesus through a man who extends the priesthood of Jesus and His saving love through all space and time so that He reaches me and my particular sins. His healing reaches down to all my ingratitude and forgetfulness, which I try to express to Him in a particular way, with particular words.

It is an encounter between my fragile conscience and the Infinite Mercy of God.

I try to go to confession every month. But not because I think I have broken my relationship with God by grave sin every month. I don't have to go every month. So what's the point of my going to regular confession?

First of all, I hardly trust in my own assessment of my soul, however honest and thorough it may be. "But who can detect all his errors? From hidden faults acquit me. From presumption restrain your servant and let it not rule me. Then shall I be blameless, clean from grave sin" (Psalm 19[B]:12-13). Wretched man that I am. I throw myself upon the mercy of God! In this sacrament, however, we are not required to produce an impossible self-analysis. We are called upon to accuse ourselves as best we can, and trust in the merciful love of Jesus.

Of course, trials and temptations abound, and I know that I am as capable as Peter (or Judas) of betraying Jesus. "He that thinks himself to stand, let him take heed lest he fall" (1 Corinthians 10:12).  I beg that the Lord sustain me in His mercy. I pray that He give me the grace to be faithful to Him.

With trust in the mercy of Jesus, I make my monthly confession. It is what is sometimes called a "devotional" confession. I think it is important to emphasize the value of this sacrament not only to restore the life of grace when lost through serious sin, but also for those who are walking with Christ, and living the life of grace. Such persons are far from "coherent" in their Christian lives. They need the grace of this sacrament to heal and strengthen them against falling away from Him, to preserve them from becoming lukewarm, and just to let Jesus go to work on all the weird stuff that still distracts and preoccupies their lives.

I love regular confession. I know that it is such a blessing to take out of myself and give to Jesus the stubborn mistakes, the childish impatience, the petty irritations, the mediocre vanity, the laziness, the nippy little rash judgments, misperceptions, and self-satisfaction that constitute 99% of my daily life.

Its true that I don't have to confess any of these things. They're not grave sins. But there's not a whole lot of positive stuff going on with my actions either. I still live mostly for myself, afraid to go beyond my own limits. God has given Himself to me, but where is my love? Why is it so small?

So much of me still sleeps in superficial preoccupations. God's life in me is hidden away, buried, constrained by all this nonsense. I am alive in Christ, but wounded. Even when I want to walk, I limp badly.

If there is anything -- anything at all -- that has real value in my life, it comes from the grace of Jesus. He really does act and renew my particular life, in such a way that it is clear to me that I must never let go of Him. But consider what He still has to work with:

Add all my misshapen semi-habits to aspire to do God's will, to be true, good and beautiful, along with some not-so-good character flaws, a quirky personality, a mind always thinking all over the place, some poetic insight and some skill for turning a phrase, a life experience with rough patches, an empathetic disposition, vast gaps of emotional immaturity, and of course a neurologically dysfunctional brain, other health problems, disability, insomnia, and just the ordinary "weight" the human condition. And I can't even begin to understand all the stuff that is going on in the "subconscious" (or whatever it is), that vast murky underworld beneath my awareness. What we have here in John Janaro is a big mess! 

And I judge other people? Its preposterous. We really have to love people. That doesn't mean we ignore when they are being self-destructive and destructive of others. It means we see them with love. Even when we know what's true and real, we don't know all that's going on inside that other person. I gather from my own experience that the inner world of every human being is basically pretty freaky. Jesus needs our love to touch deep places in the lives of others that we will never understand. If we are given some of that bread that is the Word of God, and we see someone hungry, we share it, not by bending down and offering a few crumbs, but by being with them, and sharing both the gift and our common poverty. If they turn away from us, we still have to stay -- as best we can -- and share their suffering.

For we are all poor, poor, poor human beings. Whatever our circumstances, we all have hearts made for God. We are poor and hungry and invested with a desire that refuses to die even when it turns to desperation. We are wounded and, somewhere in the midst of all our freakiness, we are longing for healing.

I am a poor Christian. How can I be a witness? Certainly not by pointing to myself and saying, "look how great I am." But Someone Else has come into my life and awakened an unconquerable hope that my poverty might be transformed into humility and love. I don't know how this will reach its fulfillment, but this hope engenders trust in Him, moment by moment, and I begin to find healing. This is something that can become visible in my poor world.

Back to the sacrament of Reconciliation: Here is a sacrament that nourishes hope in a poor man. Here is a sacrament where I can encounter the healing Christ. He wants His love to fill my whole life. This healing and transformation of my self is a slow process, but still God wants to accomplish it. In this sacrament, He offers healing and strength, as a gift that comes forth, in a specific yet ineffable manner, from the glorified life of Christ that remains concretely present in the world -- in my world. It is something real. It is a gift of His love. It is a sacrament.

Here is where I bring my poverty, because I am a poor Christian full of hope. Here I find the promise of God's mercy, the redeeming grace of Jesus, the outpouring of the Spirit, and a real step on the path of communion with Him and with my brothers and sisters in the Church, and every person that shares the path of life with me. I pray that I might rejoice again and again in this gift, this mercy, so that the joy of His life will grow in me, and become more visible and worthwhile to the others who live in "my world."