aggressive prostate cancer, my kidneys failed, I had my prostate removed, I did 8 weeks of radiation, a tumor developed behind my left eye, I had a biopsy of that tumor, I developed steroid-induced diabetes, I did another 4 weeks of radiation and now I have a cold. I understand that all this sounds pretty bad, but when I think about it the first thing that pops into my head are the words of an ancient Chinese Zen master who said, “There is nothing for us to do at this moment but to have a good laugh.”

With that in mind and with my litany of ills as context, let me quickly do something I’ve always wanted to do: [Note: To be read as if there were an echo.] “My brothers and sisters, for the past several months you have been reading about the bad break I got. Yet today I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of this earth.”

I reference Lou Gehrig’s famous farewell speech not to be flip about my illness and certainly not because I’m going anywhere soon, but because every time I think about what my family and I have been through these past seven months I always end up feeling lucky, I end up feeling blessed.

As I move through this season of reflection and discernment I’m not asking myself, “Why me, Lord?” I’m asking myself what does having this cancer call me to do?

One last thing...I’d be remiss if I closed without also bearing witness to the strength of my wife. Anita, while you may not be the Alpha and the Omega, my days begin and end with you and the good attitude I get so much credit for is impossible without you. Thank you. And thank all of you.

Last summer, for some reason, something kept tugging at me, from the inner essence of my being, from very deep within me, telling me to go down to St. Malachi’s. Sunday after Sunday after Sunday, I would arise with this relentless pulling and tugging within me to go down to St. Malachi’s. The pulling and tugging would not cease. Finally one Sunday, I got myself dressed, got in my car, and drove down to St. Malachi’s. I signed the Community of St. Malachi registration form, and became a member with the hope and the prayer that I would be given an opportunity to give back something of what St. Malachi had given to me and members of my family in the past.

My family’s history with St. Malachi’s goes back quite some time, to the late 1960s and early 1970s when the terms “learning disabled” and “learning disabilities” were first coined, but before terms such as “dyslexia” became part of the vernacular. Teaching children with learning disabilities was a frontier science back then and three of my brothers were identified as such at St. Patrick’s, West Park, the elementary school from which I graduated in 1975. St. Malachi’s was a place that provided the then-developing science and art of educating learning disabled kids at the time, and all three of my brothers participated in this special education program. This was the first encounter my family had with St. Malachi’s.

The next encounter my family had with St. Malachi’s came much later, about 11 or 12 years ago. At about that time, an indescribable tragedy occurred in my family involving one of my brothers. Also at that time, I had not quite yet found the 12-step recovery program I needed, although it was imminent. This particular tragedy struck and I fell apart at the seams. My childhood flashed before my eyes and pain and anguish overcame me, and anger and resentment boiled within me. Had my brother not been the victim of criminal child abuse that he was, I was convinced, this tragedy would not have occurred. I blamed my parents for the tragedy and for my own soul sickness, as well. Had he not been so severely abused as a child, I reasoned, he would not have become the mentally ill, hopeless alcoholic that he was. This tragedy was huge, life-changing, and precipitated my own personal search to heal the pain and fill the void within myself. Because the nature of the tragedy was so overwhelming and because my own soul sickness as a result of my childhood experiences and my alcoholism rendered me quite incapable of giving much of anything to anyone at the time, I abandoned my brother and the rest of my family during this period of crisis. But it was not too long afterward that I found myself being taught by others how to give and receive love, and how to forgive myself and others, for the first time in my life. I was to begin a spiritual journey unlike anything I had ever before embarked upon. Unlike my other searches for a spiritual solution to my soul sickness, I ended up in a 12-step program. I rejected religion as the path to spiritual renewal and healing, and accepted the 12-step program’s brand of spirituality: God as I understood Him, not God as some catechism or Church doctrine would have me understand Him. This, I thought, I could handle. Ironically, it ultimately led me back to where I had begun, at a Catholic Church that just so happens to be called St. Malachi’s.

I had to pause to weep just now.

Step 4 of the12-step program involves taking a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves and Step 5 involves admitting to God, to ourselves, and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs. So, at the end of my first year of recovery, like many recovering people on the west side, I went to St. Malachi’s to do my 5th step with Fr. Hritz. Everybody does their 5th step with Fr. Hritz, I was told. When I got there, I was told that I would have to do my 5th step with Fr. Tom. Being emotionally and spiritually immature at the time and instead of doing what the program suggests I do, that is, accepting the things I cannot change, I rejected this reality and immediately became filled with frustration, disappointment, and even anger. “Whoever heard of doing a 5th step with Fr. Tom?” I thought to myself. “Everybody knows that everybody does their 5th step with Fr. Hritz!” I raged within myself. Little did I know that it was all part of a bigger plan that I knew nothing about. The plan concerned Fr. Tom, my brother, and my own spiritual journey that I had barely begun to trudge.

Since I had no choice but to do my 5th step with this Fr. Tom, I duly entered the chamber and began to tell my story. My story involved me, my brother, my whole family, my life and pain and resentments ad nauseum. It was quite exhausting for both Fr. Tom as well as for me, so Fr. Tom decided we take a cigarette break together outside. It was a warm evening and the moon shown brightly in the night sky. As we lit our cigarettes and gazed upon the moon and stars, Fr. Tom turned and looked at me and said, “I know your brother . . .” Unbeknownst to me, back when I had abandoned my brother in his hour of need and, my whole family for that matter, St. Malachi’s and Fr. Tom had cared for and supported my brother. Fr. Tom went on to describe how St. Malachi’s had daily changed the bandages on my brother’s self-inflicted wounds, fed him, supported him, and how Fr. Tom himself remained at my brother’s side throughout his ordeal. When I, my family, and society had completely abandoned my brother, St. Malachi’s and Fr. Tom were there for him. This, I will never forget. Not only was I supposed to do my 5th step with Fr. Tom, but I was to begin to learn things profound about God, about myself, and about love and life.

In sum, the nagging pulling and tugging I experienced last summer was, in my view, God compelling me to give back to St. Malachi’s some of what St. Malachi’s has done for me and my loved ones over the years. St. Malachi’s gave me lessons about love and healing and forgiveness and acceptance. St. Malachi’s represents all that I care about, such as the acceptance, loving and caring for “the least of our brethren,” people like my brother whom friends and family and society had disowned, and people like me, who needed to come home. Maybe this assistant editor of Communio position is the opportunity I was looking for to give back to St. Malachi’s. Maybe it is all part of a bigger plan I know nothing about.

This Wednesday marks the beginning of Lent, our yearly opportunity to transform our faces with ashes on Ash Wednesday, and to convert our hearts again with determination and grace.  A prayer written by Methodist Minister Ted Loder captures the yearning of modern men and women for this seasonal time apart to consider wholesome change:

Since early in its history, the faithful who are the church have celebrated the season of Lent as a gift of time set apart from the routine of our days; a time to reconnect with what we want to nurture in our spirits, and also to remember that some things are better to let go of.

At the doors of the church are aids to reflection during Lent, and we are invited to take one home and in this Church Year of the Eucharist, begin to consider our spiritual hungers.  Beginning on Ash Wednesday, we will be able to use this aid to journey through the season as a community, reflecting on a theme each week together.

Together, let us commit ourselves to the fasting and feasting of Lent, as we

May God richly bless this time to our use, and for our growth as together we become more like Christ.

“Is not this the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of injustice, to undo the thongs of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke? Is it not to share your bread with the hungry . . .?” (Isaiah 58:6-7). The Community of St. Malachi seems to have chosen Isaiah’s type of fast a long time ago. As I tour the ministries, I find that they give me an opportunity to fast all year.

Back Door Ministry has an awesome Spirit. Volunteering at the Back Door Ministry is simple, organized, and gentle. It is simple because there are only two or three observable volunteers. They make peanut butter and jelly or meat sandwiches and coffee or they hand the sustenance to the next person at the window. Other volunteers are out of immediate sight. They stop into the rectory kitchen, bringing bread, lunchmeats, doughnuts, peanut butter, and jelly. (I think the peanut butter used includes that which is taken to the altar on Sundays, along with the bread and wine, for Eucharist.) All volunteers exchange pieces of life and anecdotes with Sr. Francis Borgia and Ronnie Triesko. Sr. Francis coordinates the volunteer times and Ronnie oversees the operation in the kitchen. Both are very busy people with other jobs and responsibilities at the rectory and for the Church, yet they both multi-task like any good project manager.

It is organized because every volunteer is invited to read a pamphlet telling about the ministry. Years of experience authored it. It includes everything from the hours of operation to the best way to set up for the next group of volunteers. The booklet helps put the newer volunteers at ease with knowing what is expected and what to expect.

Luke reported Jesus’ words, “Then he looked up at his disciples and said: “Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God,” (Luke 6:20). Volunteers can witness a little of the kingdom of God at the back door ministry. Volunteers and recipients are valued solely because they are God’s creatures and that is why the Back Door Ministry is gentle.

The Back Door is open Monday through Saturday from 8:30 a.m. until 3:00 p.m. On Sundays and Holidays, it is open from 8:30 a.m. until 1:00 p.m. There are two shifts of volunteers each day. On weekdays, the shifts are 8:30 a.m. – noon and noon – 3p.m.; on Sundays and Holidays the shifts are 8:30 a.m. – 10:30 a.m. and 10:30 a.m. – 1 p.m. To volunteer, please call the rectory, 216-861-5343.

“It is one of the beautiful compensations of this life that no one can sincerely try to help another without helping himself.” – Charles Dudley Warner