I. All my
life, even in childhood, I was a stranger to Jesus. I didn’t understand who He
was. I confess I didn’t even know that Jesus was God until the question was
raised in the fictional book “The DaVinci Code”, which I read in 2003. Growing
up, all through my catechism years it was never taught to me, that Jesus was indeed
God. I knew that He was the Son of
God, a holy man, who worked miracles on Earth. I tried reading the Bible
several times to get to know Jesus, but I found it boring, so I stopped. I
wasn’t ready to learn that way. I knew that He died for my sins and so I felt
obligated to love and worship Him (though I didn’t know how to love or worship
Him.) Jesus eluded me and I didn’t know how to treat Him. Enter Mary.
II. “WHAT HAVE THE SAINTS EVER DONE FOR YOU??!!!” he thundered from above; his wild, piercing black
eyes daring me to answer his sarcasm, as to provoke an even greater rage. “Why can’t you be
normal like other guys your age??!!”
I sat
silently. I fought with all I had in me to not let him see me shake. Too afraid
to cry, I bit down on my lower lip to keep it from trembling in the slightest,
my body tense and rigid to the point where I thought my neck would snap, my
adolescent eyes were locked on his. He continued his tirade.
Though the
moment may have only lasted no more than two minutes, it felt to me as though
time were suspended. I will never forget it. The booming voice was my father’s.
My mom was at work. I was sitting at my desk drawing an image of the Virgin
Mary.
As a child,
adolescent, and young man, I was always attracted to the Blessed Virgin. I was a
lover of art, and what first drew me to Mary was a statue depiction of her as
Nossa Senhora de Fatima. I was captivated by her beauty. I was mesmerized by
her.
Becoming
familiar with the Virgin of Fatima, Portugal, and not being supported
spiritually by my mother, who had an aversion to the Virgin Mary, I felt
spiritually loved by our heavenly
mother whose eyes looked down at me with such tenderness, and I in turn loved
her. I began to relearn my Catholic faith through her apparitions of 1917
(which summarize much of the Catechism), and I placed my heavenly mother both
on a pedestal, and cornerstone of my Faith.
In relearning my Faith, I began to understand who Jesus was. Mary taught
me so much about Jesus that I didn’t know before: Her son, Jesus, is God. The Father, Son and Holy Spirit
are one God in three persons. The
bread and wine at Mass become the real
presence of the body, blood, soul and divinity of her Son. Heaven, Hell,
and even Purgatory, are all real. The Pope is indeed the Vicar of Christ and
must be supported by our prayers. Sinners can convert through the penance of
the faithful. I learned all of this from the Virgin Mary. I learned more about her
Son through the Rosary she kept urging me to pray. While learning all that I
did, I still preferred the comfort and familiarity of Mary, loving her more
than Jesus. But she planted a seed in me that would grow with love for her Son
and give me a new appreciation of Who He is.
The time
eventually came for her to cut the apron strings and she pushed me forward, a
little closer to her Son. But I still could not approach Him on my own – I
wasn’t ready. Enter St. Joseph.
III. Growing up, I’ve looked back and I’ve
realized that I didn’t have a close relationship with my father. Like some men,
I didn’t feel loved by my father in my boyhood, nor did I feel guided by a
paternal hand into manhood. I didn’t have the close father-son bond that a lot
of other guys had growing up. Of course, God was and is ultimately everyone’s father, but when I was young,
I couldn’t figure out who God the Father was, I couldn’t establish that
connection that I felt I needed. I saw Him as a distant parental figure,
unapproachable. But as I grew, I discovered another
heavenly father, though he was not equal to God: St. Joseph.
Here was a
man who loved, nurtured, taught, and moulded his son from boyhood into
manhood – as every father should. And not just any son, but the very Son of
God, Jesus, who I was trying to reach. I needed St. Joseph for a father because
what I longed for in my life was the close father-son relationship that I could
not have. I also felt I could relate to him in a way as he always seemed to be
ignored by people, left unnoticed. And so, I felt a bit of a connection there for
I never fit in either and was easily dismissed by others, just as I felt Joseph
was.
I remember I
would sometimes go to Mass at Ste. Amelie church, in Manitoba, and on either side of the altar were two
niches: one had a beautiful statue of Our Lady holding the Child Jesus – there
were flowers and banners around her. But on the other side of the altar was a
niche with St. Joseph which looked to be almost desolate – there was nothing
there to adorn it. The saint looked forgotten. I was an ignored son in my own
life and so I wanted to reach out to the “ignored father” and become a “Son of
St. Joseph”. As I did with the Blessed Virgin of Fatima, I felt a familial
connection, I felt loved by Joseph. As a son who loves his father, I was all
too eager to talk about him – non-stop at times. He was my hero-Dad whom I looked
up to.
Joseph taught me that though Jesus was God, the second
person of the Holy Trinity, He willed to be fragile like us. Jesus, though all
powerful, allowed Himself to be under the authority of one of His own
creatures! Joseph taught me that Jesus was not just some “know it all”,
adolescent-God-child, aloof from the rest of us, but a boy who grew into a man appreciating
affection and friendship just like anyone else.
Again, the question: Did I love St. Joseph more than Jesus?
Yes. But, reminiscent of my time with the Blessed Virgin Mary, Joseph knew when
to push me forward, to his Son. Just as a father introduces his son to another
boy, in hopes that they will become good friends, Joseph did this for me. Enter
(finally) Jesus.
IV. Through the
guidance and teachings of Mary and Joseph, my heavenly parents (and yours’ too
I hope), I have come to the point in my journey where I am finally comfortable
with Jesus. I see Him as my friend and companion who looks out for me, listens
to me, gives me a hard time while at the same time being a shoulder for me to
lean on. I now see Him not as an unapproachable figure, but as an older brother
who would do anything for me – even give His life to spare mine.
I am now closer and more familiar with Jesus than I ever
have been before, and I feel a sense of pride in my Lord whom I dare to call “brother.”
I am comfortable with Jesus, yet my soul is still learning how to love and
worship Him as much as the saints did. For the most part, I can balance my
relationship with Him: the informality of friendship and brotherly love, with
the reverence and holy fear deserving of God.
My heart is still trying to discern the unfathomable love
He truly has for me. I know I will never fully understand His love and mercy
for me, at least not while I walk this earth. Now, do I love Mary more than
Jesus? No. But I still love her above all women. Do I love Joseph more than
Jesus? No. But I still love him above any man. Do I love Jesus above His
blessed parents? Finally, the answer is a resounding “yes”. Do I fully
understand it? Not yet, but that’s okay.
I sometimes think of how my heart would yearn for someone
I loved and how it seemed to beat in union with theirs’, as though ours’ was
one, shared heart. Then I think to myself “why don’t I love Jesus that way? Why
doesn’t my heart yearn for Him, why doesn’t it hurt when I am distanced from
Him?” When I am in love I don’t have to “try” to feel this way. I am simply in
love, and love comes from God. I didn’t choose love, it just is – just as God is (the “I am”).
I am greedy. I love Jesus, yes, but now I want to fall deeply
in love with Him, as though each beat of my heart relied on His to sustain it. I’ve
read the writings of the saints and learned that many of them were blessed to
attain this union with Christ while still on earth. But, more than likely, I
will have to wait until Heaven for this intimacy with my Lord, if He permits me, but even so I
won’t stop striving for it.
- joe
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