The Mother and the Son

God is far too good to me.

But before I tell you about the Mother and the Son, let me tell you about:

The Father and the Daughter

Let me take you through the past 36 hours. Friday afternoon, I took my daughter to an appointment with an orthopedic surgeon. I like to joke with my girl that she is in a competition with her old man where broken bones are concerned. She’s 14. We share a birthday to the exact minute and a good chunk of my DNA. Why shouldn’t she have fractured all the same bones as me? And no, mine were not from anything glamorous like a rugby injury or an extreme croquet tournament. I was tossed from a burning building as a child. But until now she has avoided having major surgery to correct any of these genetic and sometimes clumsy defects. Me? I’ve had my spine fused twice. Well, about three years ago she landed hard on her left foot while dancing and since then has suffered bouts of acute pain. Dads out there know that there is nothing worse than seeing your baby girl in pain. And until now no doctor has been able to identify, let alone begin to heal, whatever has been going on.

That is until yesterday. A friend recommended an ortho guy to us. He was thorough and had excellent bedside manner he did something none of the others had done. He took an x-ray of both feet together and weight bearing. Bingo! He found the problem. It’s an avulsion fracture from her stint in dance. The solution is to make a small incision and remove the excess bone growth that grew when the body “healed itself”. We prayed walking into the appointment. “St. Rita, please help us with an answer!” She came through.

And there’s also:

The Two Brothers

But owing to that appointment I missed the noon Mass at the parish. Don’t you know it turns out there was a sung Mass at night for the Sacred Heart. Blessed Mother always takes care of me. This was a stirring experience for me as I watched two priests who are literal brothers serve as deacon and subdeacon for the Mass. Either their parents did a better job raising them than I’m doing with my kids or there’s something in the water. Either way, it was beautiful to see them exchange the peace with each other. Talk about brotherly love (in a solemn sort of way).

And then there was this morning… I woke up too late for the early Mass and then had to visit the dentist to have a crown put on. It’s been a while since I’ve had this kind of thing done so imagine my surprise when I walked out ten minutes after arriving. No novacaine, no nothing. Popped the temporary crown off and cemented the permanent crown in place and sent me on my merry way. This meant I got to go to…

A Solemn Mass of a newly ordained priest!

Where I will now proceed to mention:

The New Priest

Friends, if you have never been blessed to be at such a Mass, ask God to make this possible for you. I have written before my observations of the “sanctuary life” as I call it. Sometimes Our Lord just gives me tiny glimpses of what that life must really be like. Don’t get me wrong. I wouldn’t trade my family for anything and I try my best to make what we have been given available to our priests. Who doesn’t like a good home cooked meal instead of rectory food now and again? Who wouldn’t want to escape a dinnertime conversation about the parish in favor of the relaxation and joy of a beautiful, if not nutty, Christian home life once in a while? But when I get to see with my own eyes tender moments, deep and moving moments of profound beauty on the other side of the rail? Well… I treasure these for the hidden gems they are.

I have written about the altar boys in my parish and how one can see their transformation into manhood when they put on the cassock. I have written about a private Mass I happened to be in the church for and the boyish giddiness of the young priest as he set out the sacred vessels. He didn’t know I was there. He simply went about his work with palpable exuberance, excited to be able to command bread and wine to become the Body and Blood of His Lord.

So finally I will tell you about:

The Mother and the Son

This morning? Oh this morning was incredible. I did something I try to avoid doing. I looked up and opened my eyes from the pew during Communion. I don’t like to let anything distract me. It’s taken practice but I think I’m getting the hang of it. And what did I see? I saw a woman parishioner kneel reverently at the altar rail, her white hair perfectly coiffed under a simple lace veil, hands folded neatly under the altar rail cloth. And immediately I saw the priest – her son – approach her as he does for everyone else, gently grasp the Host from his ciborium, look intently into the eyes of his mom, and place the Sacred Species on her tongue.

“Corpus Domini Nostri Jesus Christi custodiat animam tuam in vitam aeternam. Amen.”

He moved on. I welled up. Here I was looking at this woman who had carried him in her body and on her hip. This hulking man who is now 6 feet tall and could easily be a linebacker for an NFL team, who eclipses his mother in size by a magnitude of at least two – this man who was nourished by this woman was now nourishing her with the Bread of Eternal Life!

She looked so pious, so accepting, so matter-of-fact as all mothers do. “Of course my son can make God. And what does your son do? Work for the Parks Department?”

But I caught that exact moment when he stared into her eyes, when she looked up at him. Something really touched me. This was a Mass on Saturday for the Blessed Mother. The Epistle gave us such beautiful words.

“Blessed is the womb that bore You and the paps that gave You suck!” cried a woman in the crowd. And Our Lord, not showing the least disrespect to His Mother replied, “Nay, blessed is he who hears the Word of God and keeps it,” because of course that also refers to His Blessed Mother.

And here this woman’s little boy – I’m sure she cheered him on at Little League and cleaned up his scraped knees, stayed up with him when he was sick and prayed for him every day – this woman received the Living God from her little boy.

And it was all so simple and so matter-of-fact. Because she’s a mom. And she gets it.

Friends, last summer I had the great privilege of being given a tour of the Immaculata in Kansas. On my way out, I picked up a holy card with a “Mother’s Prayer for Priests” printed on it. Mothers (and fathers), how many of us pray for this? How many of us who head up households take the time to ask Our Lord and Our Lady to take our sons and make them priests? We won’t get them any other way. And what unfathomable bliss will we know when the day comes where we can kneel before our sons and be nourished with the pledge of our very redemption?

Take the time now to do these things. Ask her to guide them and protect them. That young man you’ve already given to the Church who struggled with his Latin – “repulisti” is a tongue-twister you know – who sassed you under his breath when you told him to finish his Seton English paper, but who adores you because you gave him life and love may just one day give you Life and Love.

Mary, Mother of Priests, pray for us!