(Sketch I drew in about 2002, when I still had the physical motor capabilities to draw with traditional materials)

I am really not sure what drew me to St. Kateri Tekawitha (Feast day, July 14). Maybe it was because, as a kid, I thought it was pretty cool and interesting that there was a Native American Saint. Or maybe it was because she had brown skin like me. I had read about her in that popular children’s book of Saints (by Father Lawrence Lovasik). Anyway, whatever the case, as I grew in my faith I also grew in my appreciation for the friends of God, the Saints. In a sense, I rediscovered them… Some of them actually found me. St. Kateri was one of those who befriended me.

Eventually, I learned about just what makes St. Kateri great, the deeper reason for being drawn to her. I learned of her heroic faith, as someone who was ridiculed for her faith in Christ but persevered in her love to the end. She did not see it as a foreign faith imposed from outside upon the Native Americans of upstate New York. It was simply the truth, and the truth is for all people. The Jesuit missionaries, “the black robes,” wanted to share Jesus with the people they encountered, not to destroy their culture and life but rather to enrich it. St. Kateri retained the good of her culture while embracing the Gospel. St. Pope John Paul II, who canonized her in 1980, observed that, “Even when she dedicated herself fully to Jesus Christ, to the point of taking the prophetic step of making a vow of perpetual virginity, she always remained what she was, a true daughter of her people, following her tribe in the hunting seasons and continuing her devotions in the environment most suited to her way of life, before a rough cross carved by herself in the forest.”

After St. Kateri embraced Christ and converted to Catholicism at age 19, she subsequently took a vow of chastity because she only wanted to belong to Jesus, which was something unknown and unpopular because it was expected for young women at her age to marry instead. She received the name “Kateri,” which means “Catherine,” in the Mohawk language, in honor of St. Catherine of Siena. Eventually she had to travel to a Christian native community in modern-day Canada. She continued to pray for the conversion of her fellow Mohawks. St. Kateri had a great love for the Cross, for the Holy Virgin Mary, and the Blessed Sacrament. She was very devout. Because of a smallpox epidemic when she was younger (of which her parents died and why she was raised by her uncle), she had scars on her face, and could not see well – – they called her, “Tekawitha”, which means, “she who bumps into things.” But when she died on April 17, 1680, the scars went away. Her last words were, “Jesus, I love you.” By her intercession, may we also be fully restored and made new unto everlasting life.

St. Kateri, pray for us.

The words of Pope Benedict XVI, who canonized her: “We entrust to you the renewal of the faith in the First Nations and in all of North America! May God bless the First Nations!”

It’s really simple actually, if Mary is the mother of Jesus, she is also the mother of all those who bear his name as Christians. Mother of Christ = mother of Christians. All those who were baptized into Christ have become his brothers and sisters. If that’s the case, we have the same spiritual mother, Mary.

Through the power of the Holy Spirit, God becomes our Father just as he is the Father for the Son. That is why Jesus tells his Apostles that they should no longer ask him to pray to the Father because they themselves can ask him. In other words, our relationship to the Father is, by grace, the same relationship that Jesus has with him by nature. So too, his mother has become our mother. We are rooted in Christ, one with him.

At Pentecost, the Holy Spirit came upon the disciples at the Upper Room gathered together with Mary. He overshadowed them, just as he overshadowed her. Christ was conceived at the Annunciation, and he was conceived in his Members at Pentecost. The Holy Spirit equips and sends us forth as Jesus into the world. It can be understood then, that we are Jesus.

At the Cross, Jesus gave his mother to his beloved disciples. At the Cross, the side of Christ was opened and blood and water flowed out, symbolizing the Church emanating out of the side of Christ the new Adam, just as Eve came forth from the side of Adam.

Christ and his Church are united as one, as a bridegroom with his bride form one flesh. All people are called to this fellowship, to be incorporated into the Church, beloved by God. The One Church of Jesus Christ is Universal, made up of people from around the world.

With all that in mind, here is an image I want to share today on the Feast of Mary, Mother of the Church. It’s called Our Lady of Wisdom, painted by a Christian Indian artist. I’ve had it for years but I found it recently and am looking for a place to put it in my room.

The image, while not the typical image of Mater Ecclesia, Mother of the Church, think, the mosaic at the Vatican, does have some connections to the feast day, I think:

Lotus flowers are symbolic of purity and wisdom. Not only do they symbolize the Immaculata, in addition to the crescent moon symbolizing her, they also symbolize wisdom. Jesus is Wisdom Incarnate, the Logos, the Reason who orders the Universe. Mary is the mother of Jesus, the mother of Wisdom.

Through the powerful intercession of the Mother of God, we can receive the outpouring of the Holy Spirit in abundance. We desperately need the Holy Spirit right now, with his Sevenfold Gifts, especially Wisdom, in order to be Jesus for a hurting society and world starved for him.

This life has the sense of being buried with Christ… We experience all the limitations of our mortality and have yet to experience resurrection with Christ.

Even in the midst of the Easter Season in which we rejoice for the victory of Jesus Christ over death, in the anticipation of our own sharing in that victory on the last day, in many ways it still feels like Holy Saturday. The feeling is even more pronounced because of continuation of the coronavirus plague.

So, here we are in the tomb of this life, with Jesus. Sealed, as it were, in the cold stone tomb. But it’s not bad to be aware of it. The idea of being “in the tomb,” understood in this way, is good for silence. God speaks in the silence. His voice can be better heard now. That’s one of the reasons why I think that great good will come out this present situation in time, and why God may be allowing this. We can already see it at work. Isaiah 43:19. Back in the middle of March, it occurred to me that it was in the silence that the prodigal son, “came to his senses.” (Luke 15:17).

When I heard the words that we hear every Ash Wednesday reminding us that “thou art dust and unto dust thou shalt return,” I had no clue how real and tangible these words would become. We are constantly confronted with the fragility of life, the realization that we are just dust and will return to dust.

Just a few days after that Wednesday,, I was faced with a reminder ofHow fleeting life can be. A newNurse was working with me one morning. When changing my T-shirt, a small valve opening on the front of the tracheostomy got snagged and opened. Air began to escape and a sense of panic came over me as I thought that this nurse would not be able to detect because of the problem. To my dread, I was correct – – he had no idea what was wrong. The opening was so small and the shirt, still on me, obscured it. He couldn’t see it. To make things worse, it wasn’t a total leak of air and so the alarm didn’t go off. my being able to speak, I mouthed the words, “call mom.” Thankfully he understood but he didn’t really make much effort to do this. Suddenly the guy decides that I need to be suctioned. I know that if this is attempted – – if an increase of air is not given, if the loss of air increases, I will surely pass out. So as the nurse holds the suction catheter and gets close, I’m thinking, “this is it. It’s all over for me.” Seconds before he is about to disconnect my tracheostomy tube to suction me, my eyes are watering and everything is starting to get hazy. I looked up at the picture of Jesus the Divine Mercy and asked him, “is this how it ends?” Right then, my mom opened the door and walked in. Almost immediately, she detected the problem and closed the valve and I could breathe easy, literally. Needless to say this particular nurse will not be working for me again.

I almost had a similarly life threatening situation again . Secretions of mucus blocked my airway and I couldn’t speak. The nurse Y was working, filling in for W (who, wouldn’t you know it, was exposed to someone who has had potential contact with somebody with coronavirus), paused after suctioning me once. I couldn’t speak to tell her to quickly suction again to clear the plug. After making efforts of nodding my head to indicate to go in again, she suctioned out the plug which was thick and yellow-green (sorry).

Anyway, these near brushes with death are nothing new.