Tag Archives: child

The Blind Man & the Child

By Ann Tran as told to Jean Seah.

Some years ago in Adelaide, I was struggling with my faith and with attending Mass.

One day in the Cathedral of St. Francis Xavier, I was kneeling in prayer when I felt a tap on my leg, a sign that someone had entered the pew. I moved over, but felt another tap, so I moved again. Finally after moving all the way to the end of the pew, I looked up and realized that there was a blind gentleman tapping me with his cane. He hadn’t figured out that he was tapping a person, not part of the pew.

He was a very handsome and tall man with the most beatific smile. At the Sign of Peace, he nodded at everyone around him, and you wouldn’t have known that he was blind except for his walking stick.

I thought to myself, “If this blind man can travel all the way through the city to come to Mass, so can I.”

At the next Mass I attended, a little child, perhaps 11 years old, sat near me by herself. She looked as if she had come after school. She sang each hymn with a reverent joy that pierced my soul.

“Ok, God, I get the message,” I said interiorly to Him. “If this child can come to Mass by herself, so can I!”

Although I was a regular parishioner at the cathedral, I never saw either of them again.

The encounter with the blind man got me thinking, and the encounter with the girl was affirmation.

God speaks to us in mysterious and subtle ways — it may be in the tapping of a blind man and the singing of a child.

___

Also see: “Crawling to Mass“.

The Walking Dead

domestic-church    As Halloween approaches, I hear people commenting on their costumes, debating the perfect way to capture a vampire, make a ghost, or exemplify a zombie. Zombies always capture my attention. Zombies in our culture are all the rage, a new season of Walking Dead is in full swing, and another version of “Ways to Survive the Zombie Apocalypse” has hit the shelves. Yet, I can’t help but think that the walking dead are already real. They’re here. They’re all around us. You see them every day. Our culture is full of walking dead.

Every day, millions of innocent lives are senselessly taken in the act of abortion. Those babies die alone, afraid and dismembered in what is supposed to be the safest place on earth. I cannot imagine a worse fate…except for one.

That of the woman and the abortionist.

While these children die a horrible death, they are fully dead and welcomed with loving grief into the arms of our Heavenly Father. They only die once, and they are reunited with the One who loves them most of all. The woman, on the other hand, relives that death every day, and it’s not just 1 death. It’s multiple deaths. She has to relive the act of killing her child, the act of killing her soul, and, in a sense, the act of killing Christ… “for whatever you did to the least of these, you did to me…”

Yet she is still alive. She thus finds herself in a perpetual state of death-while-living, a constant berating of death in life.

This woman has become the new walking dead, a walking form of a person who used to be whole. While she on the outside has not changed in appearance, her soul now exists in some decaying half-life; alive enough to keep her on earth, but not alive enough to animate her, give her spunk, make her human. Just as zombies of Hollywood roam the land searching for living meat because, really, they long to be alive, so too does this woman long to live again. She becomes bitter and resentful – out to eat all the joy around her – because, really, she longs to have it again.

Yet, there are other walking dead among us who are perhaps even better examples of today’s zombies. The abortionists. The abortionist personifies zombies perfectly; just as the zombie satiates his desire for human flesh by destroying it, so too does the abortionist mutilate his soul in the same way he mutilates his victims. He satiates his perverted desire for human flesh in every twist, rip, gauge, and shred, simultaneously destroying his soul until one can hardly recognize the form of his once human essence. Indeed, the abortionist’s death-life is scarier than the woman’s because he doesn’t seem aware of his death-in-life in the way the woman does. He is simply out for more humans, because, just as Hollywood’s zombies do, well, that’s just what he does. While the woman zombie merely suffers a death-life, the abortionist actively lives a death-life, transforming him into a grotesque monster, wholly unrecognizable from the beloved child God created him to be.

Indeed, we can go further. Our entire culture is a walking dead, victim of the “virus” of abortion that has since eradicated the human race. Fathers of now dead children that have killed their manhood, denied their purpose, and turned on the women in their life find themselves stunted, unable to grow due to this soul-destroying decision. Grandparents, who failed to stand up for their grandchildren, now face the depressing existence of knowing they stood idly by while their grandchildren were killed; they face the death-life existence of a missing child. Indeed, the abortion “virus” has infected or affected everyone, either directly killing them, killing someone close, or placing its victims in a zombie-like, death-life existence.

The only ones left are those desperately fighting it, trying to find the cure, attempting to stop its spread.

We need to recognize that the incorruptible, all-consuming, fire of Christ’s love is the only thing that can cure the pandemic “virus” of abortion. Christ still sees their humanity. Through their grotesque ugliness, Christ sees a lost sheep, a prodigal son, a beloved child. If Christ can see that, then we are called to see that. Moreover, if Christ mourns for that, then more so are we called to mourn for that. We are Christ’s body, we are called to be Him to others. We must see that the true victims of abortion are actually the living and take to them the cure for the virus that has infected their soul. Only then will abortion cease, only then can we rejoice, for the killing will have stopped and the prodigal son will return home.