Tag Archive for: faith

He Loved God, Family, and Country

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Joseph Verbis Lafleur was born in Villa Platte, Louisiana, on January 24, 1912. He was the fourth child born to Agatha Dupre and Valentine Lafleur. When Joe was a young boy, he began telling his mom that he would grow up and be a priest. He was so sure of his calling that he became an altar boy at the age of seven.

“I want to be a priest. Can you help me?”

During the early 1920s, the family came upon hard times and were forced to move to Opelousas, about 20 miles from Ville Platte. Their new parish would be St. Landry Catholic Church. The pastor was Father A. B. Colliard. The priest quickly sensed something special about young Joe and paid close attention to him. When Joe was 14, he nervously approached Father Colliard and said to him, “Father, I want to become a priest. Can you help me?”

Father Colliard happily agreed to help young Joseph. First, he met with Joe and his mom. After receiving her approval, the priest made arrangements for her son to enter St. Joseph’s Minor Seminary in St. Benedict. From there, Joe moved on to attend Notre Dame Major Seminary in New Orleans.

Joseph Lafleur never doubted for a moment his calling to serve as a priest. He received the Sacrament of Holy Orders from Archbishop Joseph Rummel of New Orleans. On April 5, 1938, Father Lafleur celebrated his first Solemn High Mass at St. Landry’s, his home parish. He was then assigned to St. Mary Magdalene Catholic Church in Abbeville as an assistant pastor.

Army Air Corps Chaplain

While still an assistant pastor at St. Mary Magdalene Church, he joined the Army Air Corps. The year was 1941, and the United States was months away from the attack on Pearl Harbor.

In July of 1941, Father Lafleur was sent to Albuquerque, New Mexico. His unit was the 19th Bombardment Group. Four months later, the 19th arrived at Clark Field in the Philippines, about 60 miles from Manila. Father Joe had told his mom before leaving that he “volunteered because all those other men being drafted had no choice.”

Just as it was at St. Mary Magdalene’s parish, Father Joe went about trying to organize activities for the men on base. He would organize baseball games for the men who wanted to play baseball. He wanted to start a Holy Name Society for the men. He organized discussion groups so the guys could share their feelings of loneliness being away from home and family. His mind was always focused on helping the men, mentally and spiritually. He wrote his sister, Edna, that “once I get back to Louisiana, I will never leave again. But I am not sorry I came here.”

Last Letter Home

That was the last letter the family ever received from him. On December 7, Pearl Harbor was attacked. Clark Field in the Philippines was struck shortly after. Life was forever changed for Father Joseph Lafleur and many others on December 8, 1941. In May of 1942, the Japanese conquered Mindanao, and the last of the American soldiers on the island were taken prisoner. Among them was Father Joseph Lafleur.

POW

From May of 1942 until September of 1944, Father Joe never ceased ministering to his fellow POWs. He contracted malaria several times and refused medicine because he believed others needed it more than he did. He sold his watch and eyeglasses to the locals to procure more food for his brother prisoners. He even managed to build a small chapel, called St. Peter in Chains, where Catholic and non-Catholics alike could attend daily Mass. The ongoing, upbeat love and care he showed others influenced many.

A POW named Bill Lowe had abandoned his Baptist faith. He watched how Father Joe never gave in and never despaired. He was always upbeat, loving Jesus, and doing his best to spread the Good News. When Lowe returned home, he became Catholic, and his son grew up to become a Catholic priest and Air Force chaplain. Lowe reported that many became Catholic because of Father Joe’s example.

He gave his own life to save 83 men

On September 7, 1944, while being transported on a Japanese ship to Japan with 750 other Americans, the ship was struck by torpedoes fired by an American submarine. The sub’s captain and crew had no idea Americans were on board. Father Joe could have gotten off, but refused until as many were saved as possible. He was credited with saving at least 83 men by helping them get out and swim to shore.

Father Joseph Verbis Lafleur leaves behind an unbridled legacy of love and compassion for others, including the Catholic faith he loved so much. He was awarded the Distinguished Service Cross (twice), the Bronze Star, and the Purple Heart.

On September 5, 2020, he was declared a Servant of God when Bishop John Douglas Deshotel opened his cause for beatification in the Diocese of Lafayette (Louisiana).

Copyright © Larry Peterson 2021

Known as the “Boy Judge,” he was assassinated by the mafia for upholding his Christian faith

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By Larry Peterson

Rosario Livatino was born in Sicily on October 3, 1952. He was the only child born to Vincenzo Livatino and Rosalia Corbo. Growing up, Rosario was a quiet boy, stayed out of trouble, and was an excellent student. He had a kind heart and never refused to help other students who were having difficulty with their studies. Most importantly, Rosario was devoted to his Catholic faith and loved it deeply.

After finishing high school, he attended the University of Palermo and in 1975 graduated magna cum laude. Three years later, he moved to Caltanissetta (located in central Sicily), where he began his career as a magistrate. After a few years, he became a public prosecutor in Agrigento, and in 1989 he was appointed a judge.

He helped the poor of his town as much as possible

He tried to keep his Christian life quiet and low-key. He helped the poor of his town as much as possible and always wanted to keep it secret. When he attended Mass, he sat in the back pews, trying to remain unnoticed. He kept a crucifix on his desk and a Bible next to it. The Bible had many pages with verses underlined. Ironically, his church pastor in Agrigento only found out that he was a judge after Rosario’s death.

Much of what is known about Livatino’s life comes from his diaries, which he began keeping in 1978. During that year, he wrote,

Today I took the oath, and I am a magistrate. May God assist me and help me respect this oath and to behave as demanded by the education I received by my parents.

Rosario took his work very seriously.

Rosario Livatino had to face the realities that were part of Sicily. The most intense reality was the presence of the mafia. The dreaded organization  was strongly connected to most of the local and national politics. Rosario knew he would have to stand for law and order or compromise his character to protect his own safety. As was his way, he turned to Jesus and Mary for their help.

The most intense reality was the presence of the mafia

Judge Livatino knew the identities of the mafia families and did his best to avoid granting them the smallest of favors. He also avoided contact with them as best he could. This was no easy task, as he was always being invited to club meetings or even church gatherings. It was at these meetings that members of La Cosa Nostra were frequently in attendance. It was a thin wire he walked, and every day was a challenge.

When he sat on the bench, there was no “thin wire.” He was a good man filled with God’s grace and determined to fulfill his duties. However, many of the defendants who appeared before him had mafia affiliations. A just man could not avoid making enemies. As time went by and Judge Livatino meted out sentences prescribed by law, he became hated more and more. The local “bosses” had their form of justice. Many times, it was an assassination.

In his diaries, Judge Livatino wrote that issuing judgments is one of the most challenging tasks that men are required to perform. He wrote,

The duty of the magistrate is to decide; however, to decide is also to choose. … that the judge who believes may find a relationship with God. It is a direct relationship because to administer justice is to realize oneself, to pray, to dedicate oneself to God.

Rosario Livatino harbored many doubts and fears. He wanted desperately to meet a woman and get married, but it never happened. He began resigning himself to being alone, realizing it was better that he had no family. Two years before his death, he received the sacrament of Confirmation. He knew he needed the strength of a Christian soldier. During this time, he rejected having a bodyguard.

The “Boy Judge” said goodbye to his parents and left for work

On the last day of his young life, the man called the “Boy Judge” said goodbye to his parents and left for work in Agrigento. As he drove his car, he was rammed from behind and forced to stop. A motorcycle pulled up on the other side, and men from inside the vehicle and from the motorcycle opened fire, shooting through the windows. Rosario managed to get out and tried to run, but he fell. He rolled over on his back and watched as the assassins quickly surrounded him, pointed their guns down, and opened fire. The date was September 21, 1990.

A Martyr of Justice

Pope St. John Paul II said that Rosario Livatino was a “Martyr of Justice” and in an indirect way, of the Christian faith.

Pope Francis has approved the decree of martyrdom, and Rosario’s beatification will take place during the spring of 2021.

copyright©LarryPeterson 2021

Loneliness in America—A Growing and Deadly Epidemic spurred on by the Covid-19 Pandemic; where is God in all of this?

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By Larry Peterson

I have learned that loneliness has no boundaries. It stretches out its tentacles and wraps them around those who may have lost a spouse, a child, a parent, a sibling, or even a dear friend. I have been widowed twice and know full well how loneliness can create a desolate place in the widowed equation.

Loneliness holds no prejudice. It randomly chooses those it has decided to torment, and once it does, it attacks mercilessly. Its victims include people from every conceivable walk of life,  especially the unsuspecting. Many times the dull ring of the phone or a knock at the door is all it takes to hurl someone into the pit of loneliness. It can attack anyone at any time, and it has become a social condition of almost epidemic proportions.

Incredibly, during early March of 2020, loneliness was gifted with a new victim to feast on: it extended its ravenous appetite into the pandemic known as COVID-19, aka the coronavirus. Loneliness and the pandemic joined forces with “experts” and began to ravage thousands upon thousands of people with loneliness, especially senior citizens. One way was to take away their chairs and sofas. Let me explain.

I have been bringing Holy Communion to the homebound on Sundays for over twenty years. It may be the most uplifting thing I do, and I know I have been spiritually rewarded many times over. It was early March when I confronted a new wrinkle among my visits. I visit one lady, Virginia (she is 98), who resides in an apartment which is part of a single-person, independent living facility. It is a reasonably long walk from the parking lot to the building entrance. Once there, you use a keypad to gain access. I scroll to Virginia’s name and get her on the speaker. She buzzes me in.

As the sliding doors open, I stop short. No one is there. Every Sunday, there are four or five, maybe six, people in the lobby sitting around chatting and just visiting with each other. They know my name, and I always get a friendly welcome from them. We exchange a few pleasantries (I usually joke about something), and then I go on my way.

But this Sunday, the lobby was empty. I just stood there because it took me a few seconds to realize that the furniture was gone. There was no sofa, or chairs, or coffee table. Management had decided that “protecting” the residents against COVID-19 was of prime concern. So they had the furniture removed. That simple decision changed the lives of the half dozen people I knew in ways management could not have imagined. It also changed the lives of many others, of whom I was not aware. Management’s action was successful; with no place to sit, the tenants remained in their small apartments—ALONE.

The situation impacted me deeply. I have been visiting the sick and homebound for a long time, and they do not ask for much. However, in their low profile,  quiet world, they look forward to sitting together (if possible) and just talking about whatever it is they talk about. My visit is a big deal for them. I see each of my folks from maybe ten minutes up to thirty minutes, depending upon how much “chatting” is needed. I may be the only visitor they see all week. Yet my visit buoys them up for my next visit, which is a week away.  The folks that gather in the lobby every week are non-Catholic and do not receive Communion. But I do get to say a short prayer with them, and they like my doing it. So do I.

But on this Sunday morning in March of the year 2020, things changed in a way no one could have ever imagined. The powers that be decided we should be isolated from each other. They want us to avoid each other, not touch each other, and become individual entities. But we are social beings, and like it or not, we need each other. We need to touch and hold and shake hands and hug, especially among family and friends. Mandated loneliness could prove to be, in some cases, more deadly than the actual virus.

The headline for this piece used the word epidemic in referring to loneliness. The COVID-19 pandemic has highlighted the loneliness factor, not just in America, but around the world. Cigna referenced a “Loneliness Index,” which shows how loneliness is an actual epidemic in the United States. This worldwide health service company used the UCLA Loneliness Scale (yes, there is a loneliness scale) in a questionnaire used to determine a person’s social isolation and their subjective feelings. What follows is from their report of May 1, 2018.  

  • 47 percent of Americans sometimes or always feel alone
  • 27 percent of Americans feel no one understands them
  • 40 percent think that their relationships have no meaning and feel isolated
  • 20 percent feel they feel close to no one and have no one to talk to
  • AMAZINGLY–Generation Z (18 to 22) is the loneliest generation. How scary is that?
  • Social media users have a 43.5 percent loneliness factor, which was comparable to the 41.7 percent for those who do not use social media.

If we think about the actual numbers, these percentages refer to it is mind-boggling. In a nation of almost 330,000,000 people, 20 percent is 66.000,000 of us. When we say 47 percent, we are almost at 150,000,000 people. How can close to half the population of the United States of America, feel alone? How can 66,000,000 people feel close to no one or have no one to talk to? And all of this is prior to the COVID-19 pandemic and its forced isolation.

Over the past 25 years, there has been a 58-percent drop in attendance at club meetings, a 43-percent drop in family dinners, and a 35-percent drop in having friends over. Children have regulated playtime while deprived of social development. We reach in our pockets and pull out electronic devices that allow us to instantly reach each other day or night anywhere in the world, but how many of us are talking to each other? This behavior is fertilizing the seeds of future loneliness.

Is our primary mode of communication now email? How many young people can even write a letter or address an envelope? Job applicants interview over the phone or Skype; couples break up via text message. Families are also having birthday parties for a loved one on ZOOM. Is this a GOOD thing?  Where is the hugging, the handshaking, the cheek kissing, the eye contact? We need that–it is who we are. Are we teaching the younger generation how to be lonely? How many families are holding hands as they thank God for the food they are about to eat, together, as a family?

Loneliness is brought upon us by things we have no control over, such as death, injury, accidents, and natural disasters. This, we understand, because this makes sense. Why are so many, especially among the young, feeling so alone with no one to turn to? This must count as one of the saddest commentaries of our era. This does NOT make sense.

The remedy may be right in our face, but the secular world will never factor it in. You see, nowhere is the name of God mentioned in these findings. In fact, nowhere is the importance of the  God-based, family even considered.

Regarding our faith, often called the One, True Faith, we have this incredible gift of The Holy Eucharist. Our core teaching is that Transubstantiation occurs when the priest says the words of consecration over the bread and wine during the celebration of Holy Mass. The bread and wine become the Body and Blood of Christ Himself. It is NOT symbolic. Yet 70% of professed Catholics reject this dogma. This leads back to the loneliness factor.

We have this beautiful tradition of having Eucharistic Adoration.  Christ, truly present in the consecrated Host, is placed in a monstrance and put on the altar. We believers can come and visit with Him, sit with Him, talk to Him, even simply just look at Him. On First Fridays, we have all-night Adoration at my parish, which ends with 8 a.m. Mass on Saturday morning.

During the night, there will be those of us who will come and sit with the Christ present in the Eucharist, and just “hang out” with Him. For you lonely Catholics who do not believe, you are missing so much. You do not need to be alone. Jesus is there for you–and for all of us–all the time. If you are feeling lonely, why not call your local parish and ask them when they have Adoration. Then go over and sit with Jesus. You will not be alone.

Getting back to God and family would be akin to putting the lynchpin back into the hub of life. Then, people, kids included, might be taught that they can turn to Jesus and think of His words from Matthew 28:20   And behold, I am with you always, until the end of this age.

Interestingly, the first three words of the Bible are “In the beginning …”. Could the Bible or an app for the Bible be the beginning for someone to believe that they are NEVER alone?

“Loneliness and the feeling of being unwanted
is the most terrible poverty.”
St. Teresa of Calcutta

Copyright © Larry Peterson 2020

Francis Delalieu: this Good Samaritan saved a future Servant of God and her family from death — then he was gone.

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There were no strings attached. He simply loved his neighbor

One of the most famous Gospel readings is the one we all know as the Parable of the Good Samaritan. What follows is about someone who may be among the greatest Good Samaritans of all time, a man we know almost nothing about.

Servant of God and stigmatic Anna Louise Lateau passed away at the age of 33. It is extremely interesting that Louise would never have survived into her fourth month of life if it wasn’t for a stranger whose name was Francis Delalieu.

The Lateau family was literally near death. The father, Gregory, had died from smallpox just three months after Louise had been born. Adele, with three little children, was still bedridden after having a very rough time giving birth to Louise. Louise, still an infant, had also contracted smallpox. The oldest child, three-year-old Rosina, was trying to be the in-house caregiver, which included taking care of two-year-old Adelina.

The local doctor, overwhelmed with this smallpox epidemic, had stopped by about a week after Gregory’s death to check on the family. He did his best to show Rosina what to do. He knew it was hopeless and was sure he would soon come by and find them all dead. He told his friend, Francis Delalieu, about the family.

Try to imagine how this newly widowed mother of three babies, with no money, was feeling. The despair and hopelessness must have been unbearable as she watched her three children quietly dying before her eyes. Weakened to a point where she was unable to get out of her bed, she was probably just praying that she would not be the first to die, leaving them alone. And suddenly the front door opened and there was Francis Delalieu. God was listening after all.

Francis immediately took charge. First, he cleaned up the children. Then he reassured them and left to acquire food and necessities. This man, this stranger, surely had the love of Jesus in his heart. He was risking his own life by being in a smallpox-infected household. He was spitting into the eye of the storm as he cleaned, fed, and cared for the little children. This was, after all, 1850 and not 2017. They did not even have running water.

I have been (as have many others) a primary caregiver to someone seriously ill. Some caregivers are helping to nurse their loved one back to health after a serious surgery or accident. The upside to this type of caregiving is that an end is in sight because a reachable goal is possible, i.e. recovering from open-heart surgery.

Then there is the alternative of caring for someone who is terminally ill. The goal in these cases is to help your loved one live as peacefully and as comfortably as possible until God calls them home. And then you have a person like Francis Delalieu. The only possible motivation he might have had to step into this situation was that of a Good Samaritan. There was no family connection. There were no strings attached. He simply LOVED his neighbor.

Who was this man? Who was this stranger who came into a household that was a breeding ground for smallpox, with three babies and a bedridden mom living there — and all were near death? Who does this kind of thing simply out of kindness and compassion? Who would stay for almost two and a half years until the mother and children were once again healthy? Francis Delalieu is that person. There are many like him, but most are unheralded and unheard of.

All we can seem to find out about Francis Delalieu is that he was a farmhand or a laborer and that he lived in or around the small town of Bois d’ Haine in Belgium. That is about it. It is known he took Adele Lateau and her children under his care and nurtured them all until they were well. After that period of time Francis seems to have vanished. There seems to be no record of him after that point in time. which would be around 1853.

Anna Louise Lateau was gifted with the stigmata in the year 1868. For the rest of her life, her nourishment was only the Holy Eucharist and a few glasses of water per day. She became one of the most famous stigmatists of the 19th century. Francis Delalieu was simply an unknown man who stepped up and took care of his neighbor, just like the Good Samaritan in Jesus’ parable. I am sure his reward has been great in heaven. When God is involved, all things are possible.

Copyright©Larry Peterson 2020

The Story of Our Lady of Bonaria and the Miracle of the Chest Lost at Sea

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By Larry Peterson

There are numerous miracles that have taken place within the 800-year-old Mercedarian Order including that of St. Peter Armengol, who gave himself over to the Muslims to save another. He was hanged from a tree, only to be found alive six days later. He told everyone that the Blessed Mother had held him up the entire time. When they took him down, he smelled like roses. Another was St. Raymond Nonnatus, the saint who was never born. (Click on his name for the fascinating story.)

The other morning, I attended Mass which was offered by my friend, Fr. Daniel Bowem, a Mercedarian priest. After Mass, he, I, and several others had breakfast together. During breakfast, Father Daniel began to tell a story. It was about Our Lady of Bonaria, who became the Patroness of Sardinia. It was a story I had never heard.

Tradition says that on the Feast of the Annunciation, March 25, 1370, a ship sailing from Spain to Italy was caught up in a terrible storm off the coast of Sardinia. The sailors were sure the boat was going to sink, so they began throwing cargo over the sides to lighten the load.

The last crate was unbelievably heavy, and the sailors could barely lift it. As soon as they managed to get it over the side and it hit the water, the storm stopped, the winds subsided, and the sea turned calm. They tried desperately to retrieve the crate, but it disappeared. Days later, and unknown to the sailors, the crate washed up on the shore of Sardinia at the foot of a hill called Bonaria.

There was a large crowd of people on the beach when the big wooden box floated onto the shore. They all hurried to see what it might be. Try as they may, they could not open nor move it; it was too heavy. A child in the crowd cried out, “Call the Mercedarians. They will be able to open it.”

The nearby church and monastery had been under the care of the Mercedarians since 1335. The people hurried to the church and asked the friars to come with them to see the mysterious crate. When the friars arrived at the beach, they were able to lift the box without hardly any effort.

They then carried it to the church, and in front of a large crowd of curious people, opened it up without a bit of trouble. What they found inside the box amazed everyone there. It was a statue of Our Blessed Mother holding the Christ Child. In the Virgin’s left hand was a candle. The candle was lit.

Unknown to those present they had just witnessed the fulfillment of a prophecy. When the church was built in 1330, Father Carlo Catalan was the ambassador to the Aragonese Court. During the dedication, he told the monks, “A Great Lady will come to live in this place. After her coming, the malaria infecting this area will disappear, and her image will be called the Virgin of Bonaria.”

The friars, recalling the words of the priest, named the statue “Our Lady of Good Air.” They named it this because of the winds that had blown the statue across the sea to them. Due to the miracle word spread quickly among the people.

To this day sailors invoke the Blessed Virgin as their protectress, and the devotion is practiced in many places around the world. The founder of Argentina, Pedro de Mendoza, named the capital of the country after Our Lady of Bonaria calling it Buenos Aires (Holy Mary of the Fair Winds).

In 2008, Pope Benedict XVI, on the Feast of the Nativity of Mary, visited the shrine and gave a canonical coronation to the famous statue. He also bestowed the Golden Rose on the Shrine.

Pope Francis made a repeat Apostolic visit to Sardinia in September 2013.

Finally, it should be noted, the Mercedarians have staffed and continually cared for the Shrine of Our Lady of Bonaria for over 680 years.

Our Lady of Bonaria, pray for us.

Copyright 2019 Larry Peterson

An unexpected Evangelization Moment—Distributing Ashes on Ash Wednesday in Walmart

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The USCCB states that evangelizing means bringing the Good News of Jesus into every human situation. So how can we everyday Catholics always be prepared to evangelize?

Our behavior and our actions and the words we use are tools for evangelizing. They show that we are Christian. Saying grace before meals while in a restaurant with family or friends, or simply having an “I Love Jesus” bumper sticker on your car, gives a powerful message. You get the idea.

Many times things happen that are “in our face,” and we have only a moment or so to decide what to do: Should we stay and help or keep on walking? It is very easy to ignore a situation, but that is not what the Good Samaritan did, is it? What follows is an example of one of those unexpected moments.

I am an Extraordinary Minister of Holy Communion (EMHC), and on Ash Wednesday, on my way home after distributing ashes and Holy Communion, I decided to make an unplanned stop at Walmart. I did not have to go there; there was nothing specific I needed, but there was the store and the next thing I knew, the car was parked. As I walked toward the entrance I decided I needed double-A batteries. I did not truly need them, but I guess I had to validate my being there.

As I walked into the store, the express lanes were ahead and to the right. Ahead and to my left was McDonald’s. Outside McDonald’s was a bench, and sitting in it was Rachel, an elderly lady I knew from church. We have been friends for a long time. I walked over to her to say “hi,” and she looked at my forehead and said, “Oh, Larry, it’s you. We forgot today was Ash Wednesday. We didn’t get ashes.”

Let the unplanned evangelizing begin.

Rachel weighs about 70 pounds soaking wet and she is in her late eighties. Her husband, Jim, has Parkinson’s disease and is about the same age. They had both been widowed, met in church, and have been married for about fifteen years. I was still in my shirt and tie and wearing my EMHC cross. Next thing you know I was sitting next to Rachel, praying with her and placing ashes on her forehead. When I finished, I asked her, “Where is Jim?”

Jim was on the line in McDonald’s. The entrance was about fifty feet from where we were sitting. As I got up to find Jim, I noticed there were about a half-dozen people standing there watching us. It dawned on me that there were some people wondering why I was smearing dirt on an old lady’s forehead. I simply looked at them all and said, “Hi folks, today is Ash Wednesday. You can Google it.”

I turned and headed into the restaurant. There stood Jim, about eighth in line with about ten more people behind him. The place was packed and the poor guy was standing there with his left forearm and hand trembling unmercifully. I walked up to him and he was stunned to see me. I said as quietly as I could, “Jim, I just gave Rachel ashes. Would you like to have them too?”

As I stood praying softly with Jim, our audience began to grow. By the time I placed ashes on his forehead more people were coming over to see what was going on. I did hear some people mention, “Ash Wednesday.”

That was my impromptu cue. I turned and faced the gathering crowd and raised my hands in the air. “Hey everyone, today is Ash Wednesday. I am Catholic, as are my friends here, whom I just happened to bump into. They were unable to get to Mass today so they are receiving ashes which remind us to ‘remember that we are dust and into dust we shall return’.”

I actually gave several more people ashes, but then I had none left. I know a lot of people, religious and non-religious alike, watched the unscripted distribution of the ashes. It was an evangelization moment for sure, and it all happened in less than fifteen minutes. I also know it had to be my guardian angel who helped me pull that steering wheel to the right, leading me into Walmart.

I never did get the batteries.

 

Copyright 2019 Larry Peterson 

When it Comes to Life and Death, the Paradox that is Humanity is Inexplicable

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On January 22, 2019, New York’s governor, Andrew Cuomo, signed into law the Reproductive Health Act. This was also the anniversary of Roe v.Wade.

When the governor finished signing this bill, a suffocating wind exploded from the halls of the capitol, caused by the cheers and screams of those upstanding lawmakers who had voted to legalize infanticide. Indeed, the wind has moved like a tsunami across our land, leaving behind a foul and repugnant odor.

There is an inexplicable paradox that engulfs humanity. I believe there is a far greater number of women and men who are willing to lay down their very lives for their child, even if it is still unborn, than those people who rejoice in the death and destruction of the most innocent and helpless of all God’s creations. I have no answers for this human phenomena.

The signing of this bill and the cheering that followed brought me back to a day 40 years earlier: September 6, 1978. For my young family, that was also a day about the life and death of a baby. Mostly, it is about how one woman would go to any lengths to save her unborn child.

Loretta had entered her sixth month of pregnancy, and in the days preceding September 6, there had been little movement from the baby. On September 5, the doctor had appeared concerned but had only said that the heartbeat “could be a bit stronger.” He wanted her to return in a week.

The rest of that day there was no movement. We had gone to bed and fallen asleep. I was on my right side, and Loretta was lying against my back. Suddenly something jabbed me in the back. It was hard enough to wake me. I sat up and said, “The baby just kicked me.”

She said softly, “Yes, I know.”

It was 2 a.m., and all was dark and peaceful, but we did not fall back asleep. We just lay quietly, side by side, holding hands and waiting. A second kick never came.

The next morning, after I had gone to work, Loretta began to hemorrhage. Her mom had been staying with us for a few days — and thank God she was there. She called 911 and then called and left a message for me at work. My first stop was only ten minutes from the hospital, and I arrived there before the ambulance.

When they pulled the gurney out, I was stunned at what I saw. My wife had lost so much blood that her hair was smeared with it. Her eyes were closed and she was not moving. I stood by helplessly as they rushed her into the ER.

For those who reject and scoff at the wonder of God’s human creations, here is an example of how one woman did not. As I was standing there not knowing what to do or where to go, a priest came in and asked me if I was Larry Peterson. I just nodded, and he told me that my mother-in-law had called his parish. As Loretta was being wheeled out of the house, she made her mother promise to have a priest waiting to baptize her child. Her mom kept that promise.

There was a hospital ten minutes from our house. I was told that the paramedics wanted to go there but that  Loretta demanded they take her to the Catholic hospital a half-hour away. They told her it was way too risky because of the amount of blood she was losing. She would not relent, and they did as she asked. She was determined to have her child baptized. She had knowingly and willingly put her life on the line for her baby.

Loretta survived and the baby did not. She was baptized. A few days later, the remains of  Theresa Mary Peterson left the funeral home in a tiny white casket. The casket was placed on the front seat of a limousine. We followed it to Gate of Heaven Cemetery in Valhalla, N.Y. She was buried with my parents, and her name is on the tombstone. She did exist and will always be remembered.

As the great Pope, St. John Paul II said, “A nation that kills its own children is a nation without hope.”

Lest evil prevails, we must pray like never before that our nation overcomes this onslaught against the very image of God Himself.

© 2019 Larry Peterson 

Humility—What is it? Where is it? Who has it? How do we attain it? Let’s ask St. Benedict

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What is humility? The dictionary defines it as: (noun) “modest opinion or estimate of one’s own importance, rank, etc.”

The opposite of humility is pride. Pride is defined as: (noun) “a high or inordinate opinion of one’s own dignity, importance, merit, or superiority, whether as cherished in the mind or as displayed in bearing, conduct, etc.”  

Apparently, in this modern, self-absorbed world the pride factor has taken over. There used to be a slogan that said, “Sticks and stones can break your bones, but names can never hurt you.” It seems that slogan has been thrown into the dustbin of antiquity. The new slogan seems to be, “That was offensive. I demand an apology.” (or something like that).

It seems that more than half of the human race smothers itself to death with self-absorption. This condition may warrant a journey back in time to visit one of the greatest of Catholic saints; his name is St. Benedict of Nursia. Benedict’s work was so important in the evangelization of most of Europe that in 1964 Pope (now Saint) Paul VI proclaimed St. Benedict the Patron Saint of Europe.

Benedict authored the Benedictine Rule. Included in these rules are the Twelve Steps of Humility. Let us see what this saint has to say about humility. Since Benedict wrote in detail about each step, what follows will be a brief synopsis of each one.

Benedict introduced his Twelve Steps with this preface: 

“Whoever exalts himself shall be humbled, and whoever humbles himself shall be exalted.” (Luke 14:11)

How to be Humble:

  • Step one: The Fear of God. Man must keep the fear of God always before his eyes and never forget His commandments. The fear of God means reverence for God, and by offending God, we offend ourselves.
  • Step 2: Not My Will, but Yours, O Lord (John 6:38). This means to be humble we must avoid taking pleasure in our own wants and desires but always strive to do God’s will before all else.
  • Step 3: He was obedient even unto death (Philippians 2:8). Humility requires us to be obedient to authority which includes our parents, our priest, lawful authority, etc.
  • Step 4: Embrace Suffering Patiently and Obediently. “For he that will save his life shall lose it: and he that shall lose his life for my sake, shall find it.” (Matthew 16:24-25)
  • Step 5: Confess our sins and faults. This means we should regularly confess our sins to a priest through the Sacrament of Reconciliation.
  • Step 6: Be content with lowliness. We should accept that we are sinful and frail and when left to ourselves we are not much, but to God we are of precious value — so much so that he suffered and died for us.
  • Step 7: Understand our Interior Mediocrity. “It is a blessing that you have humbled me so that I can learn Your commandments” (Psalm 119:71, 73).
  • Step 8: To Keep the Rule. This is to remind the Benedictines to keep the Rule of their Order. It reminds us to keep the rules of Holy Mother Church.
  • Step 9: Silence and Solitude. We should always avoid speaking ill of others and try to embrace silence and solitude whenever God provides it for us.
  • Step 10: Keep Your Peace in Times of Laughter. This pertains to us laughing and making fun of others, something we should never do.
  • Step 11: Speak Calmly and Modestly. We should train our tongue so that the words we speak are foremost, pleasing to God and never
  • Step 12: Everlasting Humility and Meekness. We should strive to live our lives, day and night, by bearing whatever problems or adversities we are experiencing thereby allowing God’s kindness and gentleness to shine through us.

Cardinal Rafael Merry del Val was Secretary of State to Pope (now Saint) Pius X. He wrote the famous Litany of Humility. We might pray that more people embrace the gift of humility. We certainly need more of it.

© 2018 Larry Peterson

Pope St. Stephen I—He defined the Sacrament of Baptism and it Stands to this Day

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If we could travel back in time to the middle of the third century we would quickly discover the Catholic Church, although quite different from today, had many similarities to our modern-day Church. There was plenty of hierarchical infighting going on and the politics of leading the Church was in flux.

In 250 AD, the Roman emperor Decius, unhappy as to how Christianity was spreading, embarked on a persecution of the Christians that, until that time, was the most brutal they had ever faced. Among the first to die was Pope Fabian, the sixteenth pope, who had held the papacy for fourteen years.

When Fabian died, he was followed by Pope Cornelius, who died within a year. He was followed by Pope Lucius I, who also died within a year. Both of these men died of natural causes. The Church was then without a pope and was run by a collective, under the direction of a priest named Novatian.

Emperor Decius demanded that all Christians offer sacrifice to the Roman gods to show their loyalty to Rome. Any who refused were executed. Others fled into the countryside or tried to bribe officials. The last recourse was to reject the Faith. Many took this route. It was an easier path than giving up one’s life.

After Fabian’s murder, a huge pastoral problem arose. Emperor Decius’ persecution had seen many Christians purchase certificates attesting to the fact that they had made the required sacrifices to the Roman Gods. Other had denied that they were Christians, while still others took part in pagan sacrifices.

These people were called “lapsi.” The question within the still-fledgling Church was whether, if they repented for their sins, they could be readmitted to full communion with the Church. If they could, what would be the conditions? Novatian was preaching the false doctrine that those people who were “lapsi” could not be forgiven while the Catholic position was to grant full communion to those who fully repented.

Novatian and his followers would only grant fellowship to the sinners, not full communion. Novatian went even further and said that those who had denied the Faith and worshipped idols could not be forgiven, as the Church did not have the power to do so. He said that being baptized does not administer forgiveness for certain heinous sins.

Pope Lucius had appointed his archdeacon, Stephen, as his successor (this was way before the College of Cardinals) and Pope Stephen I was faced with the task of reuniting the Church from the schism started by Novatian. He began his papacy in the year 254.

Stephen’s most important battle was his defense of the Sacrament of Baptism. The Novatianist priests were re-baptizing those who sought forgiveness. Stephen insisted that re-baptizing a previously baptized person was unnecessary. He argued that only absolution was required to regain full communion with the church. Cyprian of Carthage and other African and Asian bishops called what the Novationists were doing as heretical.

Stephen, who had the support of Cyprian and other bishops, was pressured from others within the Church to be flexible and allow re-baptism for the Novatianist priests. Stephen would not waver and stayed true to his conviction. Even Cyprian changed his mind and disagreed loudly, claiming that baptism administered by heretics was invalid. All those people who had received this sacrament would need to be re-baptized.

But Stephen was the Bishop of Rome. The unwavering defense of his position on Baptism more than likely established Rome as the seat of the Church. He claimed that he was occupying the seat of Peter as handed down by Christ. Stephen is recognized as the first pope to formally announce the primacy of Rome. He also decreed that baptism, if administered by anyone with the right intent, is valid. That practice stands today, 1800 years later.

Stephen died in 257 and his Feast Day is August 2. He is honored as a saint in both the Catholic Church and the Eastern Orthodox Church.

St. Stephen I, pray for us.

Copyright 2018 Larry Peterson

Being able to celebrate new life while grieving death: the Mass made it happen

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In our Catholic world, March 25 is the feast of the Annunciation. Yes, this is the day the Holy Spirit came to an innocent, pure teenager in Nazareth and announced to her that God wanted her to be the Mother of the Messiah. Mary said, “Yes.” It was a day to celebrate a New Beginning. It was a day to celebrate New Life.

On March 25, two millennia later, at 2 a.m., my wife, Marty, in a comatose state, was wheeled into the Hospice Center on a gurney. They placed her unresponsive body on a bed, gently washed her face, brushed her hair, and pulled the blanket up, tucking it under her chin ever so nicely. Her death watch was underway. For me, celebrating New Life was completely evading me.

Marty died at 6 a.m. on March 27. The first anniversary of her passing fell on Tuesday of Holy Week. There was a Mass offered for her that morning. There is a distinct irony to it all. My first wife, Loretta, who had died in 2003, had passed on April 4. There was a Mass offered for her that morning. Smack dab in the middle of these two Masses was Easter Sunday, which fell on April 1 this year. Death — Risen Life — Death.

Well, you know, sometimes messages and signs from above are “in our face,” but our human side blinds us to them. Especially when a person is plugged into the part of themselves that feels grief and sadness and loneliness. When you are in that mode, there does not seem to be much to cheer about. That has been part of my roller-coaster ride for almost a year. Up and down, up and down, up and down.

My mom died many years ago. February 18 was the anniversary of her death, and the 8 a.m. Sunday Mass was being offered for her. I did not expect anyone from my family to be there. I had planned to bring up the gifts with someone from church. I had no idea who that might be. Enter my oldest son, Larry Jr.

Junior was married the day before. His bride was a woman from Kenya, a beautiful person and the most unlikely daughter-in-law I ever expected. Her brother was the Catholic priest who officiated at the Nuptial Mass. It was a magnificent wedding, but it was not until the next morning that I knew how Jesus and Our Lady and all of those people we pray to and lean on were actually there.

That is also when I learned how all that death surrounding me was proof of New Life. It was not a contradiction; it was not a dark joke; it was a validation of the faith I have embraced, and we all share.

My son, who rarely attends Mass at my parish, texted me at 7 a.m. His message was simple, “Will be at Mass this morning. See you there.” They had no idea it was for my mother. Junior had never seen his grandma, as she had died nine years before he was born. Their attendance at that Mass was spontaneous and unplanned.

I stood in the back of the church and watched as they brought up the gifts. I have very little memory of my mother, who had just turned 40 when she died. But at that moment I knew that she was giving me a message. I could feel it. It was real.

She was standing there, next to the priest, as her grandson and his new wife handed the gifts to him. She was smiling, and then, I am pretty sure about this, I think she gave me a little wave. Maybe not — my tear-filled eyes were blurring my vision, but everything was crystal clear behind them. In God’s world, New Life and New Beginnings break the bonds of grief, sadness, and death.

The prayer that an extraordinary minister of Holy Communion says before giving Holy Communion to someone is,

“We come to know and believe that God is Love, and he who abides in Love abides in God and God in them.”

This Easter, Marty, and Loretta, on the anniversary of their deaths, will each be on one side of the Risen Christ. They both had received the last rites of the Catholic Church. The faith we love tells us that they abide in Love, that God is Love and they abide with Him. Their deaths have brought them to New Life. I know it is true. Even my mother told me it is true, and she will be with them.

Copyright 2018 Larry Peterson

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