A Holy Thursday Reflection

I may have two published novels out there, but I don't think of myself as an exceptionally talented writer.  I'm not even the best writer in my family.  I am related to people, by both blood and marriage, who absolutely blow me away with their ability to express the thoughts and feelings that live in the deepest recesses of the human soul--and express them far better than I ever could.

I'm not trying to be self-deprecating here about my writing ability (although self-deprecation is kind of my trademark move); I think I've been able to use a God-given talent for manipulating words to become a decent storyteller.  But a gifted essayist I am not.

This past week, I have been reading some deeply moving commentaries about the recent fire that nearly destroyed Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris.  So many writers whom I admire (people whose accounts I follow on Instagram, mostly) have been eloquently putting into words exactly how that tragedy made me feel, and these words have often brought me to tears.

@simplelifemusings had this to say about the tragic fire: "It is the beginning of Holy Week.  This does not feel like a coincidence.  The week that the world was redeemed through suffering and death.  It is the story that resounds with the most fundamental stirrings of the human soul that there is hope in the darkness, that we should not be afraid.  God's triumphant love wins.  And Our Lady, handmaid of the Lord, Mother of Divine Grace, Seat of Wisdom, Morning Star, Undoer of Knots, Refuge of Sinners has once again shown us the way."

Then there was this from @smallthings.gr8love, along with a picture of the large cross inside the cathedral that survived the conflagration: "Beauty rises from the ashes.  As the cross stands in the midst of fire and destruction, so does our faith."

From @catholicallyear, there was this: "We Americans hear so often that Europe, and especially France, has lost interest in her Catholic heritage and her Cathedrals and relics.  As utterly devastating as it was to see Notre Dame de Paris in flames yesterday, it was a gift to the world to see that story disproven.  It was beautiful to see priests and firefighters risking their lives for the art and relics that are such a part of our shared Catholic faith and history.  The people of France in their grief, being comforted by coming together in prayer and in hymn was a lesson to the world of how relevant our faith is.  I look forward to us coming together to rebuild this landmark of Catholicism for ourselves and our children."

I read so many other tender Instagram reflections on the symbolism of this event and the importance of resurrecting this iconic French cathedral--a beloved monument that is so important to Catholics all over the world--from the ashes.

I gave up Facebook as one of my Lenten sacrifices this year--in part because it makes me waste too much time, time that I should be spending on more important matters; and in part because some of the posts I see on there--shared memes being the usual culprits, especially ones that denigrate the Catholic Church and its faithful--tend to make my blood boil.  Scrolling Facebook, I believe, has become an occasion of sin for me, so I figured it was better to give it up and stick to the much more inspiring offerings on IG.

Well, for some perverse reason, I broke my Lenten Facebook fast for a short time today.  I felt guilty for being so weak...but then I stumbled upon an exchange that made me believe that perhaps I was meant to give in to this sudden urge to see what I'd been missing.

I figured the Facebook friends who aren't exactly fans of religion in general and Catholicism in particular would have some upsetting things to say about the Notre Dame fire, and sure enough, they did.  Here is a tweet that was shared that caused an almost physical reaction when I read it; I mean truly, it made my heart hurt. "Speaking as a Catholic here...please don't donate to help Notre Dame.  The Church is worth $30 billion. Donate to help Puerto Rico recover.  Donate to get the people of Flint clean water.  Donate to get kids out of cages.  Jesus didn't care about stained glass.  He cared about humans."

Blood temperature rising...because all I could think was that this self-proclaimed "Catholic" was probably pro-choice, too, judging by the liberal tone of her tweet, and didn't she wonder if Jesus cared about those little humans growing in their mothers' wombs?  (Unfair, I know; maybe she was a pro-life advocate and I was completely misjudging her.)  Then I thought, why is it assumed that Catholics who appreciate the physical beauty of churches--the houses of God--are not also concerned with helping the poor and suffering throughout the world?  Doesn't this person know that faithful Christians are more generous with their time and money when it comes to giving aid to the needy than any other demographic group on earth?

I was angry; my brain was on fire, and if I'd written a comment myself it would not have been calmly thought-out.  Luckily, I saw that one of my sweet daughters-in-law had left a comment on this post that said what needed to be said perfectly.  I thought it was brilliant, and I wanted to share it with you here.  My brave-hearted girl wrote, "There's no reason someone can't do both [donate to rebuild the cathedral and help others in need].  But to be fair, when you behold something as epic and grand as a cathedral, like that of Notre Dame, it ignites a spiritual fire within you.  It reminds you that there is something so much greater than you and that the majesty of God is beyond beautiful.  It's those moments that remind you to see outside yourself and remind you to look to others and help them, and sometimes move you to tears.  Since the fire of Notre Dame, people have been inspired to not just donate to Notre Dame, but to black churches here that were burned from arson.  This woman [who wrote this tweet] is seeing this from a very myopic perspective and fails to realize that by helping to restore a religious masterpiece, Notre Dame will continue, hopefully for centuries to come, to inspire Catholics around the globe to be in awe of God's presence and feel motivated to do more for their fellow man as well."

I could not have said it better--that girl can write!   And I believe God wanted me to see her beautiful comment today, to be reminded that even though the world sometimes appears to be an unsalvageable mess, the younger generation of Catholics who are raising their children right now are the hope of the future.  Their faith will move mountains--and rebuild cathedrals.

Before being burned at the stake for her faith, Joan of Arc famously said, "Hold the cross high so I may see it through the flames."

St. Joan of Arc, pray for us!

May we all continue to see Jesus' Cross and appreciate the enormity of His Sacrifice and His love, no matter how high the flames grow or how hot the fire gets.