March 29, 2009: 5th Sunday of Lent (B)
This week I was visiting a parishioner at Our Lady of the Lake Hospital. To find out which room she was in, I stopped by the front counter and chatted with a receptionist. I saw from my right periphery a couple of smiling faces. I turned, and I saw a couple from my previous parish. The husband said his PET scan was clear, but the doctor ordered a lagniappe chemo. I asked how long this lagniappe therapy takes, and he said three in-patient days in the hospital. "Three days!" Yet, he beamed with a smile. There was hope written all over his face.
How many of you know someone or have been through cancer? The word itself feels like an emotional bomb, bringing with it shock, anger, fear, grief, guilt, and anxiety.
Typical initial responses of those of us who find out that they have cancer are: "I feel so helpless, so powerless against the disease." "I'm afraid of how this will affect my children." "I grieve for what we've lost and what we're going to lose." "I'm furious at the cancer for entering our lives." "Why now? We just retired!" Then something worse happens. Our family and friends begin to shy away from us. A different kind of fear takes over those around us. "I'm afraid because I'm not ready to talk about cancer." "I'm afraid of saying the wrong things." "I'm afraid we won't have anything to say to each other. We've never talked about cancer before."
My own mother went through cancer, twice. Early in her marriage after having my sister, my mother had an ovarian cancer. After an ovary was removed, the doctor told her her chance of conceiving another child was very slim. Well, here I am, born of a very slim chance. When I was a teenager, she had thyroid cancer. A group of parishioners from Korean Catholic Church came over to our house for a prayer vigil. As they prayed, my mom began to weep and cried out, "I can't bear to leave my babies by themselves." I remember being numb for a while. I didn't know what to say to her. Our house was silent. No one talked. We were too afraid to talk about it. But, my mother was a fighter. She could not bear leaving her babies, so she fought. The surgery to remove her thyroid was successful.
So now she's a survivor. This experience had a profound change on her. Her outlook and priorities changed drastically in her life. Everyday, she believed, was a gift from God. She grabbed her rosary and prayer book 5 O'clock every morning. She gave thanks to God for allowing her to live another day, to be with her babies.
Our Lord tells us in our Gospel today, "...unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains just a grain of wheat; but if it dies, it produces much fruit. Whoever loves his life loses it, and whoever hates his life in this world will preserve it for eternal life. Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there also will my servant be. The Father will honor whoever serves me."
Could something as terrible as cancer ever be a blessing from God? It was for my mother. She worked hard all her life, working to provide for her babies, my sister and I. She worked hard so that we'll maintain certain life style. The cancer was a reminder for my mom, everything that was provided for the family, even our lives, came from God. This was an attitude shift for my mom. The cancer brought death to her own priorities and her wants. After cancer, she realized that her life was not her own. It belonged to the Lord. To this day ever since I entered the seminary, my mom prays daily that Lord would give her son a gift of preaching. So I can't boast of any of my preaching as my own. It was a gift from the Lord through my mom's intercession.
In our Second Reading St Paul says, "In the days when Christ Jesus was in the flesh, he offered prayers and supplications with loud cries and tears to the one who was able to save him from death, and he was heard because of his reverence. Son though he was, he learned obedience from what he suffered; and when he was made perfect, he became the source of eternal salvation for all who obey him."
Have we realized what is possible when we decide to "die to ourselves"? Have we realized that when we put aside our ambitions for life, our pressing needs, and instead offer prayers and supplications on behalf of someone else, God gives something we never expected? "A clean heart create for me, O God, and a steadfast spirit renew within me...Give me back the joy of your salvation, and a willing spirit sustain in me."
Do you remember the man I mentioned at the beginning of this homily, the man who had to go through three days of lagniappe chemo at Our Lady of the Lake? He has received a great gift from God through his cancer and it was written all over his face—a clean heart, steadfast spirit, and the joy of knowing that everything was a gift from God.
