It Will Be Alright

I was about 8 years old and am not sure what was going on, but I do remember the palpable sense of fear I felt when I realized that I would not always have my mother. I can remember tearfully running to her to ask when the end would come. She laughed, tossing her head back in the lighthearted way that always told me I had nothing to worry about. “I promise”, she said, “that won’t happen for a long, long time.” I would hug her with all my might, relieved in the knowledge that everything would be all right.

When you’re a child, you hear what you want to hear. You can easily convince yourself that a “long, long time” is synonymous with “never”. I learned last month that it’s not. A “long, long time” is a finite period and it had elapsed. There’s a song called “What a Difference a Day Makes” and that was certainly true for me on May 5th. On May 4th I was focused on important matters like making sure that I taped the Stanley Cup finals and whether I cared if Donald Trump ran for President. Twenty-four hours later my whole world turned upside down. Despite all the wonderful care of those around her, my mother died on Thursday morning at 10 a.m.

On Friday, therefore, I found myself sitting in front of a computer screen for what seemed like hours trying to decide how to start this. Where do you start to write about the person who had the greatest impact on your life? How do you describe the wonderful woman who was the touchstone for every important decision you’ve ever made? What was it about Jean Zrike that allowed her to play such a central role in the lives of so many people? The answer, I think, is very simple yet so profound: “She was always there”. When I fell off my bike, scraped my knee and thought I would die, she was there to miraculously heal the wound. When I got my one and only hit in an entire season of little league baseball, she was there to praise me as if I were the next Mickey Mantle. When I was relentlessly taunted by my grammar school classmates, she was there to rebuild my shattered confidence. She was there to share my joy when I was accepted to college, when the girl of my dreams accepted my proposal of marriage and when my children were born. And she was there to calm my fear and give me hope when I was diagnosed with MS. She was there not only at every pivotal moment in my life, she was there for her other 3 children, for her nieces and nephews who lost their mothers much too early and for her many friends. My mother had a way of comforting you that was unique. Somehow she made what seemed like the most daunting problems shrink to insignificance when compared to the exciting opportunities yet to come.

It’s hard to believe now, but in the Leave It to Beaver world of the 1950’s, we came home from school every day for lunch. My mother would always be there with a sandwich, a hot bowl of soup and a willing ear. Somehow, she made even the most mundane events of the morning seem to be of monumental importance. I couldn’t wait to come home each day to show her a gold star I was awarded for Spelling or to regale her with the latest indignity visited upon my class by Sister Rosarita.

My Mother played so many different roles and she played them so well. I mentioned how she was always there for us in the best June Cleever style. She could just as easily don her finest and emerge as the most stunning corporate wife, outshining anyone on Mad Men. She was often compared to Grace Kelly and Elizabeth Taylor. Looking at the beautiful young woman in her engagement photo, it’s clear that this comparison is not an exaggeration.

We all remember a different Jean Zrike. For her childhood friends, she was “Jeannie,” the bobby sockser who swooned over Frank Sinatra. Even as her memory began to fail her, she could recite every word of “Love and Marriage.” Because her last name began with “ZA”, she told her friends that her dream was to someday marry someone whose name would bring her higher in alphabetical listings. Little did she know that in a few years she would fall so deeply in love with my father that she was willing to drop even further in the alphabet. He loved her with depth that you only see in the 1940's movies that she adored. To hum she was “darling” or “honey.” She would stand by his side with loving support for 6 decades. Even in the throws of her illness, who can forget how her face lit up when he entered a room?

The role for which her children and grandchildren will remember her most, however, was as a role model. In her relationship with her mother, she taught us how to treat a parent. Her close bond with her sisters and brother taught us how to be a sibling. Her 62-year romance with my father showed us what a marriage should be. And, of course, we saw each day what good parenting is all about. Most importantly, by her faith in God she taught us that spirituality should be an important part of one’s life. My Mother was a kind and compassionate human being who believed that the Way of the Cross should be a way of life. Oh, and I really wish I had her sense of humor. I was 10 years old before I realized that Fang was not my father’s name! (For those who do not understand this historical reference, I would suggest checking out Phyllis Diller’s listing in Wikipedia.)

When I looked at my Mother’s casket, my first impulse was to think about what had been taken from me - the warm smile, the comforting touch, and the reassuring words spoken in a voice that hugged me like a warm blanket. Further reflection, however, made me realize that I should be grateful for what she left all of us – wonderful memories and a legacy which will live for generations. My Mother said many times that her fervent dream was that her family would stay close and that each of us would always be there for one another. The best way I can honor her memory is to ensure that I make her dream a reality. In doing that, I can fulfill her promise that “everything will be alright” for generations to come.

The other day, I read an article in The Wall Street Journal about Marc Vonnegut, the son of Kurt Vonnegut. There were a couple of things interesting about this piece. First, the article appeared in the Journal's real estate section and focuses, not surprisingly, on Vonnegut's Milton, MA home. Far more interesting (to me, at least) than the article's description of how Vonnegut converted his 1740 carriage house into a livable home, is how it portrays it's obviously fascinating owner. Despite the fact that Marc Vonnegut has had a successful career as a Harvard-trained pediatrician (he was chosen one year by Boston Magazine as the #1 pediatrician in Boston) and an accomplished author in his own rite, Vonnegut will forever live in the shadow of his famous father (author of Slaughter House Five, Cat's Cradle and Breakfast of Champions). In addition to (and perhaps enhanced by) the burdens placed on him by his career and his pedigree, Vonnegut also suffers from bi-polar disorder. Mark Vonnegut has written a new memoir entitled Just Like Someone With Mental Illness Only More So. In it, he recounts his often rocky relationship with his father, but notes that his father left him a great legacy:

My father gave me the gifts of being able to pay attention to my inner narration no matter how tedious the damn thing could be at times and the knowledge that creating something, be it music or a painting or a poem or a short story, was a way out of wherever you were and a way to find out what the hell happens next and not just have it be the same old thing

A "way out of wherever you are" sounds like a path I want to take. It is my hope that the creative process of producing this blog will help me move in that direction.

Back in the Saddle Again . . . Finally!

I know, I know - what good is having a blog if you never update it? I made a resolution today (actually I make it about 3 times per week) that I would start doing this again in earnest. Now to the excuses - I boxed my self in by writing my first few blogs about the Church. My intent was never to write exclusively about the Church or, for that matter, on any single topic. I just wanted to relate my feelings, reactions and observations on whatever subjects interested me on a given day. I came to realize, however, that my take on the news of the day was not very interesting to read . . . even for me, let alone for anyone else! (Don't you just hate the bore you find at just about any gathering who thinks his opinions are so brilliant that everyone should stand enthralled by every word he says? I didn't want to become that bore.) I have, therefore, decided to apply some focus to this blog and write on a topic about which I should really know something.

I have always been accused for being a "jack of all trades and a master of none". For most of my life I would plead guilty as charged. In the last few years, however, I have been developing first hand knowledge and an expertise in a subject for which, during most of my life, I had very little interest. My new found (and reluctantly acquired) expertise is in how to try to deal with adversity in ones life.

I say "try" because I have yet to succeed at actually dealing with adversity. My attempts, shall we say, constitute a work in progress. My hope is that in writing about my "journey", some of what I am experiencing my resonate with you and help you deal with whatever challenges life, in its vicissitude, throws your way. Even if no one reads this, however, writing this blog should have one salutatory effect. I know it will be a personally cathartic exercise as I move down a somewhat frightening road.

For those of you who do not know me well, the previous three paragraphs must seem very mysterious. My story, alas, is not very unique nor captivating. I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis (MS), an incurable, autoimmune disease about 11 years ago. Officially, it is estimated that 400,000 people in the US and 2.1 million worldwide have been afflicted with this disease, although I have my doubts about these numbers (more on that in a future posting.)

What is MS? The official definition from the National MS Society is as follows:

Multiple sclerosis (or MS) is a chronic, often disabling disease that attacks the central nervous system (CNS), which is made up of the brain, spinal cord, and optic nerves.

Unofficially, it's a demon that sneaks up from behind and grabs you. This demon tightens it's grip every day and vows to never let you go. The purpose of this blog is to chronicle how I and those around me deal (and don't deal) with this demon who has now taken over our lives. It is my hope that, as this "process" unfolds, my thoughts will help others dealing with their own demons to realize that they are not alone. I also hope that writing this blog will help fortify me as I unwillingly take this trip.

Let's Move Forward

I keep hoping that a fresh breeze (the Holy Spirit?) will blow through the corridors of the Vatican and "air out" the fecund and stagnant atmosphere surrounding the Church's handling of the abuse crisis. Like Peggy Noonan in her excellent Wall Street Journal column a couple of weeks ago, (click here), I despaired because the prisoners have been guarding the prison:

Many—not all, but many—of the men who staff the highest levels of the Vatican have been part of the very scandal they are now charged with repairing. They are defensive and they are angry, and they will not turn the church around on their own.

I despaired, however, until I read a transcript (translated from Italian by the National Catholic Reporter) of Pope Benedict's comments to reporters aboard his plane on his way to Portugal on May 10

(A)ttacks against the Pope or the Church don’t come just from outside the Church. The suffering of the Church also comes from within the Church, because sin exists in the church. This too has always been known, but today we see it in a really terrifying way. The greatest persecution of the Church doesn’t come from enemies on the outside, but is born in sin within the Church. The Church thus has a deep need to re-learn penance, to accept purification, to learn on one hand forgiveness but also the necessity of justice. Forgiveness does not exclude justice. We have to re-learn the essentials: conversion, prayer, penance, and the theological virtues. That’s how we respond, and we can be realistic in expecting that evil will always launch attacks from within and from outside, but the forces of good are also always present, and finally the Lord is stronger than evil. The Madonna for us is the visible maternal guarantee that the will of God is always the last word in history.

No blaming the messenger here. There is much to criticize in the way the press has covered this scandal. We must remember, however, that the Fourth Estate did not fabricate the sordid details of this saga or the account of its coverup. If those predisposed to hate Catholics were given fodder for their bigotry, the Church has no one to blame but itself. The only way that the we can begin to counter this negative sentiment, is by engaging in a dispassionate, open dialogue with our critics (see the fascinating exchange [click here] between Scott Appleby, Notre Dame Professor of History and New York Times Executive Editor, Bill Keller).

The Pope finally seems to be showing a willingness to conduct (as those Catholics among us learned in the second grade) an examination of conscience. The Church has gone astray many times in it's history, but over the long term it has never swerved from its inexorable march toward oneness with Christ Jesus and his message of love for all mankind.

I leave this subject on a hopeful note. Let's pray that the revelation of the sad secret history of these scandals will result in a stronger Church with a less arrogant hierarchy. The Church can then get on with God's work, which it has done for over 2,000 years.

Catholicism on Trial

I rarely agree with the Wall Street Journal's Peggy Noonan (although I'm a real fan of her writing). In one of her recent columns, however, she writes candidly as a Catholic who is dismayed by what is happening in the Church (The Catholic Church's Catastrophe, WSJ, April 2, 2010). I agree with most of what she says although I'm not so sure I'd be as charitable regarding the role and agenda of the Press. There is no doubt in my mind that The Boston Globe and The New York Times "have it out" for the Catholic Church. Reporting has been, to say the least, stilted and the juxtaposition of seemingly unrelated articles about the Church add to the overall negative tone. The press' agenda, however, does not change the facts. The hierarchy of the Church doesn't seem to understand just how real and hurtful reports of these accusations are to thinking, devout Catholics. In fact, the acts of these sick priests, albeit heinous, are not what disturbs me most. A crime of almost equal stature is the unwillingness of the Church's leadership to address the issue "head on".

In making this critique, I in no way want to denigrate the incredible, unheralded work done by both male and female religious all over the world. Unfortunately, the hierarchy seems to be "blissfully ignorant" of the fact that their seeming diffidence overshadows all the good work which the Church has done and is doing around the world. One of the saddest aspects of this whole controversy is that it has negatively colored the way many unknowing individuals (Catholic & non-Catholic) regard those who live and work with the poor, downtrodden and unwanted segments of society. They truly are living saints.

Our regard for those who work tirelessly ministering to the faithful, however, should not prevent us from objectively critiquing the way in which the current hierarchy is leading the Church. Papal infallibility extends only to matters of "faith and morals". It does not (as my favorite source, Wikipedia tells us) "state either that the Pope cannot sin in his own personal life or that he is necessarily free of error, even when speaking in his official capacity, outside the specific contexts in which the dogma applies." The pope has used this "ex cathedra" authority a total of one time since it was proclaimed in 1870.

The current pope is a very learned man. That may be part of the problem. He is an academic and not an administrator. He may not understand that acting quickly based on instinct and pastoral compassion may sometimes be preferential to waiting, sometimes for years, until all factors are analyzed and considered. This procrastination, rightly or wrongly, can look like a "cover-up". A case in point is the California priest (a Fr. Kiesle) who, according to CBS, was sentenced to "three years' probation after pleading no contest to misdemeanor charges of lewd conduct for tying up and molesting two young boys in a San Francisco Bay area church rectory." When the probation ended, the diocese and the priestasked that he be defrocked. Four years later, Rome had not given an answer. CBS recounts it this way:

"In the November 1985 letter, Ratzinger says the arguments for removing Kiesle are of 'grave significance' but added that such actions required very careful review and more time. He also urged the bishop to provide Kiesle with "as much paternal care as possible" while awaiting the decision . . . But the future pope also noted that any decision to defrock Kiesle must take into account the "good of the universal church" and the "detriment that granting the dispensation can provoke within the community of Christ's faithful . . ."

Kiesle was not defrocked until 1987. He later volunteered in area Catholic churches as a Youth Minister. In 2004 he pleaded no contest to a felony for molesting a young girl in his home and was sentenced to six years in state prison. What one man considered "due diligence" can look to others like incomprehensible foot dragging "for the good of the universal church". It sounds as if the Pope was intoning that old saw about considering the good of the many over the rights of a few. In reading this I could only think of Jesus' reminder that it is more important to care for the one sheep who needs help rather than to worry about the 99 others who are safe. Moreover, it was also Jesus who said "whosoever shall scandalize one of these little ones that believe in me: it were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck and he were cast into the sea."

Finally, lost (to me at least) in all the commotion caused by Rome's blunders is news that Benedict plans to "reform the reforms" of the Second Vatican Council. Some are subtle and some more dramatic (I suggest that anyone interested read the series on reinterpretation of Vatican II on the National Catholic Reporter's (NCR) website -http://ncronline.org/news/faith-parish/battle-lines-liturgy-wars). The Pope's head of liturgy, Msgr. Guido Marini, told the NCR that the changes are not dictates but "proposals":

It’s the style of the current pope to move forward not by imposing things, but proposing them. The idea is that, slowly, all this may be welcomed, considering the true significance that certain decisions and certain orientations may have,” Marini said.

Marini did not rule out, however, that such practices might be made binding at some future point.

They may call them proposals, but it sounds to me like only a matter of time before they are made permanent.

One might argue that concern with changes in liturgy is worrying about form over substance. I think, however, that liturgy is symbolic of our very relationship with the Church and, ultimately, with God. When Vatican II took down the Communion rail it was taking down a barrier between God and His people. As the above-mentioned NCR articles point out, Vatican II changed everything:

• Latin was replaced the world over by languages spoken by the people;
• The liturgy was seen as intimately connected to what takes place outside the sanctuary walls, particularly regarding issues of social justice;
• In a deeper change, an understanding of Christ’s humanity took its place in a profound way in the Mass alongside reverence for the divinity of Christ, and there was a shift in emphasis from a vertical relationship with God to a more horizontal relationship to God in the community;
• Perhaps most important for average churchgoers, everyone became participants, and not simply passive observers, in the eucharistic celebration.

The image of God as the great disciplinarian was replaced by a loving God; a God who was fixated by rules and regulations was replaced by a God who truly wants his children to be saved. It is this revitalized view of God (the God of the New Testament rather than the Old) which kept many in the Church. I know it did me.

Due To Popular Demand

In creating this blog, I have finally succumbed to the urging of kith and kin. I am not certain of the motivation lying behind this intense interest in having me publish my musings and commentary. I can only imagine that that those around me secretly hope that if they get me to broadcast my views in cyberspace, maybe I'll reduce the frequency of my diatribes in daily discourse with them. I'm afraid that this diabolical tactic will not work. All it will accomplish is that you, my dear reader (do I dare make this plural?), will be inflicted with my opinions while they will still be subject to a regular dose of my verbal onslaughts.

Be that as it may, if you have read this far, can I presume that you may be wondering from whence comes the name for this blog? "It's in My Court" is short for "The ball is in my court". In other words, I take full responsibility for what I say on this site and I'm going to "call 'em as I see 'em" (even though this may offend some). If you must "take your ball and go home", I will certainly understand. I hope, however, that you will decide to stay and "play" by engaging in a lively dialog with me and any others who may pass by. You never know - it might just be fun!