WHAT A DIFFERENCE AN HOUR MAKES!
Helen Lightfoot
The Mass sheet is headed ‘29th Sunday in Ordinary Time’, but there is nothing ordinary about Sunday 20 October because it is our National Day of Mourning.
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Even the term ‘National Day of Mourning’ is utterly foreign to us. At times of natural disasters, or the horror of one man’s rampage such as at Port Arthur, we have come together to ease our pain, but the enormity of the events that warrant a National Day is literally mind-boggling. How many of us struggled into Mass that morning as I did, in emotional disarray, feeling I should be there, wanting to be with the community, yet horribly aware that I brought nothing to the table except the basest emotion of rage, as well as the guilt for feeling the rage. I felt rigid with containment of strong feelings not expressed; feelings I could find no possible redemption in. What a difference an hour can make if it is spent in the right place at the right time. The following small events softened my heart and drew me into the comfort of both God’s love and fellowship with my community. Everyone was sitting so far from each other—as usual—so I sat right beside a lady in a near-front row and explained I felt we should all be close together today. |
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I was distracted for the first five minutes of Mass by nearly suffocating from too much fragrance from too many musky incense sticks. This actually helped centre me, albeit it is probably not liturgically desirable. Where is our frankincense!
There were five beautiful young children preparing for confirmation. They lifted my spirits.
I realized it would be difficult for our priest also to make sense of the suffering and yet he had to offer something to help all of us. Feeling for his situation softened me.
One thing that has been so important to me ,yet I didn’t know how to deal with it ,was feeling pity for those who committed such hideous crimes—pity for their Godlessness, yet cold, calm despising for them at the same time. So when our priest expressed in his homily the need to pity the perpetrators, that helped me. I was so grateful to have God in my life to ask to forgive and love those I have such trouble forgiving or loving. My gratitude softened me.
Strangely, I was helped by a very unlikely ally. A very small bird with a very large ‘chirrup’ was inside the church, high up against the lightest colour of the stained glass window. He only started chirruping during the homily and never chirruped after the homily. It was a weird thing to happen and it could have been irritating; it could have been funny; what it was though was a reminder of the enduring beauty of nature—each life becomes, exists, departs, but other forms of life replace, remain, endure. I must reach for the medicine of beauty if I am to be well enough to reach out to the living, strong in the loved and loving memory of the dead.
I thanked God for the familiar words of the liturgy. It was wonderful to find something known and something I could actually do. It gave me identity; it gave me community; it cleaned me up and gave me purpose. I felt personally invited to the sacrament.
Finally, back in my near-front-row seat after Communion I used the quiet time to just look at the faithful as they quietly moved up the aisle past me. There was a marvellous mix of old and young and, as a rather shy and single person with little parish participation, I just felt so warmly towards them all. Feeling warm towards others is the very best softening method of all.
And as a bonus, on the way out from the church, an old man who lives near by—we exchange polite greetings— asked me back to his unit for a cup of coffee. We are all part of a larger community than we realise.
What can I take from this experience that will be of earthly use to anyone? Well, the one screamingly obvious thing to me is that I can just try harder! Try harder to be good; try harder to be outgoing and kind; to truly believe that by following the Gospel I can strengthen the part of me that is in Christ; to surrender the need to understand everything and to accept the metaphysical truth that prayer and goodness have ramifications for powerful good in the world; to remember that nasty thoughts not expressed are still nasty; and finally to understand that the only time I have to try harder in is this very minute. ‘Being’ is a present-tense word.
Thank you Lord, for today!
