Tag Archives: parish life

Holy Silence at OLMC

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Our Lady of Mt. Carmel Parish, Carmel, IN

Today, I returned to a place I had vowed to avoid—the perpetual adoration chapel at Our Lady of Mt. Carmel (OLMC).  OLMC is conveniently situated a couple of miles to the west of my son’s high school, Guerin Catholic.   It’s much closer if you want to make 8am mass after carpool than my own parish—which I want to state for the record that I love– before you read on.

Still, I have been steering clear of OLMC.  Allow me to explain.

Several months ago, I visited the OLMC chapel during my son’s baseball practice which was nearby.  40 minutes or so with Jesus would be good, I thought.  So, as I walked in there, I think I spot a friend (which I am not expecting since it’s not my parish)….so I am distracted a bit.  One hand is in holy water, the other holding my purse, and my shoes are damp from the wet pavement.  All this and I am attempting to genuflect.  I fall right on my rear.  I kind of land half in the lap of some old gray haired guy.  I take a big, dramatic, humiliating tumble.

The man is worried am I ok, and I get up as quick as I can, find a seat, and just put my head down hoping to never raise it again.  My cell phone starts to buzz.  I drop it on the floor grabbing for it, and parts scatter.  No one is praying at this point, and I am officially a menace.  There were probably 15 people in that chapel.  It was a full house.

Then, a woman says, “let us pray together the litany of humility”.  The gray hair comes toward me, puts his hand on my back, kind of rubs it….and hands me the prayer.  He whispers, “maybe you want to pray along.”

Humiliating?  Yes.

For the unfamiliar, here is the dreadful prayer.

LITANY OF HUMILITY

O Jesus! meek and humble of heart, Hear me.
From the desire of being esteemed,
Deliver me, Jesus.

From the desire of being loved…
From the desire of being extolled …
From the desire of being honored …
From the desire of being praised …
From the desire of being preferred to others…
From the desire of being consulted …
From the desire of being approved …
From the fear of being humiliated …
From the fear of being despised…
From the fear of suffering rebukes …
From the fear of being calumniated …
From the fear of being forgotten …
From the fear of being ridiculed …
From the fear of being wronged …
From the fear of being suspected …

That others may be loved more than I,
Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.

That others may be esteemed more than I …
That, in the opinion of the world,
others may increase and I may decrease …
That others may be chosen and I set aside …
That others may be praised and I unnoticed …
That others may be preferred to me in everything…
That others may become holier than I, provided that I may become as holy as I should…Jesus grant me the grace to desire it.

I decided after that day that the people of OLMC deserve a break from yours truly.  A permanent break.

Today, I returned to morning mass at OLMC because a friend wanted company.  I admit my own tank was a little low, as was my enthusiasm.

But then, I arrived.  As I walked in, I remembered they observe a beautiful holy silence in their chapel and in the church.  Jesus is present in the tabernacle behind the altar, and also in the perpetual adoration chapel nearby.  You cannot miss this fact, because you feel the respect of everyone present by their observance of silence.

As with most daily masses everywhere I’ve been, morning mass is quick at OLMC, but here it’s not rushed.  The friend who accompanied me noticed a “special vibe” in that place.  She noticed it after mass in the chapel where we prayed kneeling next to each other.  She noticed it in the beautiful wall tapestries which contain images of several saints.  Most of all, she noticed it in the amazing numbers of parishioners who were present to receive the Eucharist and to pray in His presence in the chapel.  Joy was palpable on her face and in my own heart too from the lovely grace-filled morning.

This is when I had today’s light bulb moment.

Gathering as a community does not make a group holy, any more than attending mass makes an individual holy.  God uses grace as a tool to mold His church, to correct her, to grant us a collective passion for others, and to enable us to love Him, each other and the world.  Some means of grace are personal—like solitude, or the sacrament of reconciliation.  Others are corporate—like the mass—or a Jesus loving parish who welcomes visitors with the gift of holy silence and their collective witness of faith.  It’s about doing small things with great love, just as Mother Teresa famously said.

People of OLMC, my hat is off today to you.

Thank you for preparing for mass in prayerful silence.  Thank you for sharing your well prepared priest, Fr. Adam Mauman, and for the witness of the reverent server (whose name I do not know).  Thank you for reaching with two hands at the sign of peace.  Thank you for sharing your sunshine filled adoration chapel.  Thank you for knowing all the words to “Sanctus” in Latin.  I’d like to learn them.   It was all beautiful.

I left OLMC having received bread for the journey, my empty tank refilled and my heart renewed today with love of Jesus I saw in those around me.

“If only one little child is made happy with the love of Jesus…will it not be worth…..giving all for that?”  Mother Teresa

Some Thoughts from Bed

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David, Zach and Anthony at the apple orchard

People see God every day, they just don’t recognize him.

–Pearl Bailey

A virulent strain of the flu has been overwhelming my family for the past week or so.  It first struck my youngest, Zach.  The next victim of said illness really was my Chrysler Towne and Country, which suffered a rather dreadful fate as child #2 inherited the condition on I-465, about 20 minutes from home.  Within hours of that ugly incident, my husband, Tom, decided his most appropriate resting place was the floor of the master bathroom.  While Tom and Drew lived the worst part of their illness, I was in the driveway taking a hose to the inside of my minivan.  The realization that my stylish rubber gloves were a rather feeble defense against this bug was not far from my mind.  Therefore, it was no surprise when I woke up feeling quite ill this morning at 2am.

My mind was filled with all the people I was bound to inconvenience with my illness today.  I was supposed to drive my 2nd grader and his classmates to the apple orchard this morning.  I emailed and texted apologies to school teachers and administrators, hoping they would get my message in time.  I had committed to picking up Nick and and his buddy Grant from school and taking them to the last freshman football home game after school today.  That was certainly out.  I apologized as I sent an explanation and an alternative plan to Grant’s mom—from my pillow.  I cancelled the orthodontist appointment.  I cancelled the pitching lessons.   I called on my friend Sara to take over my lunchroom “captaincy” for tomorrow.  400 kids will need to be fed, but I should clearly not touch their food.  I sent a pathetic call for help text to my friend Donna offering $100 for two Excedrin.

Here’s the thing, though.  God was with me all day long.

My parents woke up well before dawn and drove an hour to be here with Nick for Grandparents Day at Guerin Catholic High School.  They did this despite the fact that I had called off their sleepover here in Indy, not wanting to expose them to our illness.  As I rested in bed, too unwell to even say hello, I listened as my dad helped Nick get his tie on for the all school mass he and mom had driven so early from Lafayette to attend.

Despite his lingering symptoms and minor fever, my hard working husband went to work this morning.  Feeling unwell himself, he nevertheless called to check on us, and he offered to take his lunch hour to bring us whatever we might need.  My friend Donna not only brought the medicine, but she let herself in and delivered it right to my bedside.  I think she might have been holding her breath the whole time so as not to inhale our germfest, but she was here.  That’s love.   The terrific 2nd grade teacher I so inconvenienced this morning sent me a get well note and a smiling photo of my baby on a hayride at the apple orchard.  When I emailed a mom new to the our parish and school asking if she might be able to fill in for me in the lunchroom, she apologized that she was unable to fill in, but insisted she was bringing dinner for the family and that she would leave it on the porch.  Two neighbors who have boys in Zach’s Monday night basketball, not even knowing I was ill, called to offer to bring him.  I had just used up the last of my energy taking a shower, trying to figure a way to muster the wherewithal to make it downstairs to take him.  My friend Sara checked in on me and alerted me that she not only would take over for me tomorrow but had found me a substitute as well.  I could go on and on.

So, despite the rough start and the continuing fatigue, I know too this was a day filled with blessings.  Nausea still has me in its clutches, but I see God loving me.  Mother Teresa is famous for saying we can do no great things, only small things with great love.  My family, friends, and faith community reminded me today of how completely God uses them as instruments of His love in my life.  All those people are God-sends, I thought.

How idle it is to call certain things God-sends!  As if there was anything else in the world.

–Augustus William

St. Teresa of Avila, pray for us!