A Journey Encountering the International, Universal Christ at World Youth Day

“The Important Words Sound the Same: A Journey Encountering the International, Universal Christ at WYD”

By Catherine Matta

Blisters on my feet, sweat down my back, sunburn on my nose, bruises on my legs, cross around my neck, and a song in my heart: this is how I returned to JFK International Airport after spending 11 days (Aug. 12 – 23) in Madrid, Spain for 2011 World Youth Day.

The trip consisted of three days at Madrid’s Colegio Santa Francisca Javier Cabrini with people representing the various provinces and regions of the worldwide institute of the Missionary Sisters of the Sacred Heart of Jesus; six days exploring Spanish culture and my faith; and two days at airports. Throughout the trip, I thought in Spanish, communicated in “Spanglish,” sang in Latin, and shared in Christ.

Ultimately, World Youth Day was a journey to prove to myself the strength of our Church in the youth, and the ability to shatter language and cultural boundaries in the name of our Lord.

The theme of this year’s World Youth Day event, Aug. 16-21, came from Colossians 2:7: “Rooted and built up in Jesus Christ, firm in the faith.” And while I could spend days recounting the many simple ways I saw the Holy Spirit working during my time in Madrid, I’ll just share a couple of anecdotes and the lessons taken from them.

The first event to really speak to me was Adoration. My prayers that evening were very intense, and made me think more about my vocation in life and what God has done for me throughout the past few years. Sitting next to me in the Church was a young man who also seemed overwhelmed with the Spirit.

As a sign of solidarity, I wanted to give him my white wristband that has “iPray” embossed on it, hoping it might be of as much comfort to him as it has been to me. However, when I looked over to say a few words of support, he was gone. Just as my disappointment began to sink in, I looked down at the pew and saw waiting for me the bracelet he had been wearing, placed so specifically by my water bottle and hand-fan that I am sure he didn’t leave it by mistake. In a place so far from home, God sent me consolation in a nameless follower of Christ. Even if he had spoken a different language, his actions spoke words so universally Christian that conversation would have seemed superfluous.

God sent me something else during my trip to Madrid: a challenge. In the gospel of Matthew, we read an account of Jesus walking on water, urging Peter to take courage and walk to Him: “... Peter got down out of the boat … But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, ‘Lord, save me!’ Immediately Jesus reached out His hand …” (14:29).

After receiving special access to sit just 18 rows from the Holy Father during the Saturday night vigil, I found myself roaming a field of two million people, looking for my group. Unfortunately, it was pitch black at midnight, and my search was in vain. I spent hours straining my eyes, desperately trying to pick out the purple shirts of my group. I prayed: “Lord, help me not to despair; help me trust that you will part this sea of sleeping bags and find me my group.” Hours later, my prayer became more desperate: “Lord, I have nowhere to sleep; no one around me speaks my language. Help me!”

At that point, I’d never felt more alone. But then, a group of people from England, who were also staying at Santa Francisca Javier Cabrini Collegio, offered me a spot on their tarp, a towel to use as a pillow, and foil to keep me dry and warm. Even as my faith was tested, Jesus came to me in the form of a British woman telling me not to fret, giving me the strength to get through the night.

Our last catechesis session was directed by Archbishop Timothy Dolan of New York. Befitting a send-off session, his talk focused on our Catholic call to be “light to the world” and “salt to the earth” when we return from Spain. He said, “The love for Jesus and the Church must be the passion of our lives.” This sentiment resembles the Cabrinian motto: “All for the greater glory of the sacred heart of Jesus.”

If I learned one thing from World Youth Day, it was to be a proud and visible sign of the Church. The flag I wave doesn’t matter – what matters is that I have the ability to practice my faith in that country. The food on my plate doesn’t matter – what matters is the God I thank for providing me with something to eat. The language I speak doesn’t matter – what matters is that I’m spreading the Word of God in my native tongue.

You feel something, looking around a field of people praying the rosary. You may not understand their language, but you understand the prayer in their hearts. Trying to communicate with Russians, Argentineans, and South Americans could have been overwhelming. Instead, it was an opportunity to get to the root of what we believed.

I thank those with me at World Youth Day, those praying for us at home, and those who have supported me and my companions on a journey of a lifetime. May you find peace in knowing that we have come home alive in our faith, ready to make disciples of nations.

"Cancer and Other C Words" by Marilynn Cruz-Aponte

My 46th birthday was marked with the dreadful discovery of a lump. My family had no history of cancer, yet I was diagnosed with the dreaded “C” word--Cancer.

Cancer brought a cascade of changes. It altered me physically. My body was pummeled by the impacts of surgery, reconstruction and chemotherapy. Once a beauty queen, the alterations to my body left me feeling as if I were looking at another woman—one not as pretty, not as feminine as the one I had previously known. There were emotional changes, tears, rage and confusion, “why me?”

Cancer gave way to monumental family concerns. It walloped my teen children with anxiety, crazed by thoughts of losing their primary parent. How would they live without mom? Cancer threatened our family structure. It worried and saddened my parents who could not fathom losing their adult child or imagine assuming a parental role once again. It instilled fear and led to painful projections about the future.

Shortly after I started chemotherapy treatments and my hair had fallen out, I was standing hairless in front of my mirror when one of my children said, “you have a baby head, soft and fragile.” I took in the kindhearted comment knowing it was a tender recognition of my weak state, my helplessness and vulnerability.

At that moment it became clear that cancer offered more than just changes and concerns. There were many more soothing “C” words that came from battling breast cancer—there was care. I came to graciously accept the care of others. Gifted doctors treated me. At home, loved ones nursed me. Loving family and friends sent cards filled with uplifting messages, written prayers and biblical scripture. Others prepared meals and school parents absorbed the carpool and after-school activity routines. Reliance on others was new but necessary. I grew in humility.

Cancer taught me to count, to count my blessings. Thanksgiving was no longer just a holiday but a part of daily prayer. I was grateful for living in a time of advanced medicine, grateful for the resources to secure medical care, to provide for my family. I was blessed to live in a community rich with loving relationships. I grew in gratitude.

Enduring the pains and sorrows of cancer cultivated my compassion. While I had always been a sensitive person, I now shared in the sufferings of others. I had come to know the challenges associated with cancer, the fear of death and my own mortality. I grew in my humanity.

Without courage cancer would have been the victor. Cancer could have destroyed the quality of my relationships and my life. However, with profound faith, I was able to summon courage to squarely face the villain. I grew in confidence.

Throughout the battle to survive breast cancer there were deep valleys but there were also many moments of joy. It was possible to rejoice and find gladness in each day. Celebrating life, despite the sorrows, was possible because I knew with certainty that the ultimate “C” word, Christ, was in the midst of my journey. He consoled me through my changes and concerns. His love was reflected in the care offered by family and friends. Through my relationship with Christ I was assured of his character; he did not abandon his children. He was devoted, compassionate and encouraging. I could celebrate because I believed in Christ’s promise and plans for me…..”plans for peace, not disaster, reserving a future full of hope for me.” I believe in everlasting life.

Join us at Holy Family as we celebrate Cancer Survivors along with their friends and families on Sunday, October 30. Click here for more information.

Dealing with Anger

We humans are born with a remarkable ability to feel and a concomitant ability to respond to and express these feelings. How our feelings are perceived, accepted and responded to depends on many factors.

Anger, as the other emotions: love, sadness, joy, fear, is a normal human feeling. Feelings reside very much in our body selves. Anger is an emotion that propels the person to move out in physical or verbal response to protect self others or things from harm. Fear, on the contrary, is an emotion that evokes a pulling back in self protection. Love is a feeling that energizes us forward to loving action and embrace.

All of these emotions are fueled, inspired, by our mind’s perception of the object or person before us as positive or negative, life threatening or enhancing.

Of all human emotions, the one that seems most prone to be problematic is anger. Anger, according to its strength and our capacity to see clearly and deeply into its nature, can be an enormous source of suffering for us and others. Anger destroys family relationships, friendships, business partnerships...it may lead to bullying, road rage and all too easily sow the seeds of war.

Many of us grew up with the idea that anger was a “bad” emotion. Yes, “Jesus did get angry,” (at least once) says the Gospel. But - he was God. In their loving attempts to raise good children, parents sometimes squelch the early self protective energy (that’s what anger often is) that impels children to speak out their feelings when they perceive something as negative or harmful. Adults usually do this because they believe it is in the child’s best interests and in an effort to teach good and appropriate conduct. Sadly, if this happens too often the child grows into either a rebellious adult or an overly docile adult with little sense of how to make wholesome use of the energy of anger in personal or public situations.

Our hope in these hours of retreat is to invite all to look deeply at the God-given emotion of anger. We hope to offer insights into how this emotion can be used to strengthen us in our convictions and allow us wisely to caretake ourselves, those we love and our world. We believe that this will only happen if we understand deeply the roots of our anger and if we know how to tame its strength rather than fuel its sometimes inordinate desires.

Honest, fearless self-reflection can do a great deal to help us understand the roots of and negatives ways we deal with our anger. We can learn how to gently soothe ourselves and assure ourselves of our own goodness and value. We can find tools to help us to speak our truth mindfully and without blame or shame.

We need, each of us, to appreciate not only our own pain but the pain of others/ the pain of our world, so as to live and act with COMPASSION that is truly HEALING.

Pat and Tim will present a weekend retreat October 21 to 23, 2011 at Holy Family entitled, Dealing with Anger: Creating a Culture of Compassion. Click here for more information.

White on Rice by Susan Nappi

I am not much company today. My head aches a new, pressured ache, the kind the comes from sticking out a cold that actually requires medical intervention. Clearly infection has set in and fortunately for me I have unearthed a long forgotten, but not past the expiration date, stash of antibiotics for just such an occasion (a rare filled-but-ended-up-not-needing prescription). I just started them and I am bone tired, my stomach already protesting their presence. Our bodies are all tired, housing guests that require more attention than we have wanted to give. The first of these was the 'fever/runny nose/cough' that came and went without much fanfare for weeks on end but not without harvesting the last vestiges of precious sleep. Then there was the bout of constipation (my eldest daughter, not mine) that consumed our house for a couple of days (she's not the silent suffering type) and ended up requiring, er, serious intervention that shall not be discussed here. Finally, the dreaded stomach bug that has been marauding around town showed up and decided to pick on Ellie. Every 40-60 minutes or so she would writhe in her sleep and then deposit what little she had in her stomach on the towels we lined up around her, which was enough to trip my hyper vigilant tendency throughout the night to ensure that she wasn't aspirating or throwing up on both of us.

B has been working throughout most of this as he maintains his position as 'head of the household' (although we both work 40 hours?). He does his best to replenish saltines, take the less sick child out so I can rest, and continue to tell me how great I am. I don't feel great in my fuzzy socks and matted hair but it's nice to be told so. Regardless, he will always be considered second choice when illness strikes and even if I were Secretary of State I believe I would still be cleaning up barf (this statement was confirmed by the fact that my daughter waited an hour for me on the throne as I commuted home from work).

The days drag on and offer little relief. I am lonely. There is the constant whir of the washing machine, dryer and dishwasher to keep me company, of course, but as the light grows dim and ends another day that I've spent in "lounge wear", I can't help but feel a little sorry for myself. The easiest thing for me to do in these moments is to try to keep myself from feeling this way - read something, watch something, try to rationalize my feelings away - anything but actually feeling. Fortunately for me I am distracted by requests - television shows, videos, puzzles, play-doh and meals.

Ellie's stomach has finally stopped protesting and she has decided she is hungry. I offer her the list of safe foods I recall from the BRATY diet first encountered in Dr. Sear's baby book years ago (B- bananas, R-Rice, A-apples, T- toast, Y-Yogurt). Her eyes beam with excitement as she asks for "RICE! I just LOVE your rice!" I prepare basic white rice for her, with a dash of salt, and she savors each bite. I want to savor life like that - even the basic white rice. She isn't thinking of the dinner she lost on the sheets last night or of the things she cannot eat, but of the beautiful bowl of fluffy goodness laid out before her. I am inspired.

I do my best to get back to the basics and conserve my energy, shoving a forkful of white rice in my mouth. I seldom allow myself to eat it now that I have ingested large quantities of health literature discussing the consequences of consuming white rice (everything from increasing risk of diabetes to instigating disapproving stares from your more savvy, nutrition-conscious peers). I savor the grains and remember when my mom made me the same meal to calm my weary stomach. The kitchen is quiet and we are sitting across from each other, eating rice, recovering, and getting basic.

What Holy Family Means to Me...

Holy Family is a part of who I am. Ever since my first retreat 7 years ago, the messages of the retreat experience have become beacons in my journey through life.

As I now reflect back on my retreats, I am amazed at how perfectly the themes have aligned to my life's situations at that time. From the birth of my children to the reconciliation of past pains, Holy Family has provided me with the strength, wisdom, and faith to be a better man.

God is in these walls, the retreat team, the music, the food, and most certainly all of the retreatants. By spending a weekend surrounded by God, it has become increasingly easier to connect with God amongst my everyday life throughout the year.

I pray that God continue to bless this place and each of us who gather here.

Anthony Calendrillo