“Can you drink the cup?”

‘Then the mother of the sons of Zebedee approached him with her sons and did him homage, wishing to ask him for something. He said to her, “What do you wish?” She answered him, “Command that these two sons of mine sit, one at your right and the other at your left, in your kingdom.” Jesus said in reply, “You do not know what you are asking. Can you drink the cup that I am going to drink?” They said to him, “We can.” He replied, “My cup you will indeed drink, but to sit at my right and at my left, (this) is not mine to give but is for those for whom it has been prepared by my Father.” Matthew 20:20-23

I just returned from retreat—my first ever work-related retreat. Our retreat master, a nurse by profession—who for the past thirteen years has been working for our archdiocese in a service capacity—is one of those dynamic people who radiates enthusiasm and joy. She chose the above Scripture passage for our theme.

Using the analogy of ‘the cup’ as representing our own life, or God’s Will for us, we were invited to examine holding, lifting and finally drinking the cup. In the first step, we had the opportunity to see how we accept and embrace the lives we are given—in all their idiosyncrasies, mystery, pain, wonder and totality. We were entertained by many stories, some happy, others bittersweet which served to remind that God fills our cups with many varied things.

The second step, lifting or tipping the cup, was the act of community. Last night we even had a little ceremony where we held, clinked and drank from matching stoneware chalices in a symbolic opportunity which showed us visually our connectedness to each other. The beauty and vitality in this transitional movement is that to reach the point of being able to ‘drink from the cup’ we must first recognize the other. Your cup is different than mine. It may look the same on the outside—or not—but it certainly contains different things on the inside. When our cups touch, I acknowledge you and you do the same for me. Such a simple, old-fashioned notion, but oh so desperately needed in the world today.

And finally, I drink of my cup. It is in this action I am joining Christ and accepting the Father’s Will in humble, trustful surrender. Some days it is easy to drink from my cup; other days it is not. But it remains mine and mine alone to drink to the very bottom.

I’ve been trying to take a retreat ever since I started this job. I’ve needed something like this for ages. So often I say, ‘I’m too busy right now. I can’t get away. I’ve got all this work to do.’

And it’s true ... I do have all this work to do. And even more things here at home that I need and want to do. That’s my cup: full-time job which is also a ministry; good marriage I want to keep strong; a busy family life and extended family close and spread all over the country; friends in town and out; a home to care for; and many activities I like to do.

It is a very full cup, but probably no more full than most other people today. Very gingerly I lift my cup to you. Tell me about your cup. Then we can tip our cups together and drink of Our Father's Will.

challenges to prayer

Last post I wrote about the changes which inevitably occur in our lives sooner or later upsetting our best plans and intentions to begin a life dedicated to prayer. The “changes” I mentioned were all positive—a new job, primary relationship or baby—but what if the change is something we don’t desire? What if we experience the death of a loved one or major illness, the loss of a job, the complete or partial destruction of a home or property? How do such things impact our prayer life? First let me say, that my challenge or change was only a small one, but even so, it had a major impact on my ability to pray.

Last week I started an exercise program. My husband and I joined a fitness facility in the fall when my daughter was leaving for college; I thought it would be a good thing for me to do to keep my spirits up with her leaving, not to mention I need to have some sort of regular exercise program. I even talked to and set up an appointment with a personal trainer. Then reality kicked in; I cancelled the appointment and I stopped going. I didn’t have enough time for myself ... well I didn’t make enough time for myself, but that’s another story. My husband still used the membership so we kept it open. He's an optimist; he was sure I'd go back.

Last week the trainer called me and asked if I wanted to set up another appointment. I did. We got together and it was great. She worked me hard, but also showed me stretches which balanced out the weights. I went back to the gym over the week-end and did the bike and treadmill with my daughter from college who was home visiting. Then on Monday, I went for my second lesson. I can still see that dirty Kleenex on the treadmill. I didn’t touch it but I didn’t need to. I’m sure the user’s germs were all over the machine. Still I had another great workout and I came back to work. The volunteer who was scheduled to help me was there shortly after I returned. I don’t remember taking time to wash my hands after coming back from the gym. But I grabbed my lunch and started eating while we worked. Big mistake!

The next day, Tuesday, around noon I started getting a scratchy throat and chills. By the end of the afternoon there was no doubt in my mind, I had a cold. I haven’t had a cold in at least two years. I thought I’d sleep it off. I stayed home from work and slept away most of Wednesday. What first amazed me was that I could sleep ALL day. I had no appetite. I had to force myself to eat because I knew if I didn’t I’d get a migraine. My head hurt even so but it hurt worse, much worse, every time I coughed and I kept having coughing fits. Water tasted awful but I drank it anyway because I was parched. My dear husband brought me Sunny Delight and it tasted a little better than the water. I ached all over. I was hot; I was cold. I was miserable. But the biggest surprise was, I couldn’t pray. All I could do was say little prayers like The Jesus Prayer, “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me a sinner,” the Divine Mercy, “Jesus, I trust in You!” and the prayer Father Corapi suggests, “Immaculate Heart of Mary, I place all my trust in you.” I tried to muster the energy to say something more organized but I couldn't.

Then Wednesday at 3 in the morning, I woke out of a sound sleep because my lower back had seized up. My husband said it was because I’d slept all day the day before. I think it was also because of my recent workouts. My trainer had me working back muscles I didn’t usually work. I was also still having coughing fits which were making my head want to blow off and sending further spasms of pain down my back.

So at 3 in the morning my dearly beloved husband helped me get down on the floor with a heating pad on my back and a hot water bag on my stomach. Eventually the muscles loosened up enough to where I could get into a fetal position which stretched out the back muscles. I fell asleep like that. The hot water bag leaked but I didn’t even care.

Today, Friday, my back and stomach are still very sore and I’m having coughing fits but on a much less frequent basis. I feel weak but able to move around. My appetite still hasn’t come back but knowing me, it will.

What surprised me most in the whole thing was that I could not pray. I wanted to. I tried to. I thought about it and I did remember that even to call Jesus’ Holy Name is a prayer. I did do that. But I felt so desolate being unable to pray.

Today being Friday I said the Sorrowful Mysteries of the Rosary. As I got to the 4th Mystery and contemplated them mocking Jesus while He carried His Cross, the Cross He bore for us, I felt this overwhelming feeling of loneliness. I’m not sure, but I think it was a teeny tiny glimpse of the great loneliness He felt when He carried the Cross for us. He loves us so much. And yet when He picked up the Cross that day, He looked into His children’s eyes—children whom He loved deeply—and they were mocking Him. How often do we mock one another? Belittle and tease each other? Make light of another person’s pain or experience? When we do, we also join those Roman soldiers mocking Our Savior.

Oh Lord, help me to remember this small insight, that my challenges are everyone’s challenges and I never suffer in isolation. When one part of the Body of Christ suffers, the whole Body suffers. Help my experienced pain make me more compassionate, considerate, patient and kind to my brothers and sisters. Help me also remember that prayer is the very best gift I can give anyone, but especially those who are sick, because often they can’t pray for themselves.