Author: Julie Lotarski Page 7 of 11

As we brought our two boys to mass on Easter morning one thought was running through my mind, “How the hell did my mom get three kids to church every single Sunday for all those years?”  I mean if Colin Jost wants to give me a call, I’ve got some great material for an SNL skit of all the behind-the-scenes moms bribing, threatening, or using various other forms of coercion to get their kids to church on Sundays.

I mean for us the morning started off with our four-year-old son getting into his Easter candy minutes before leaving and wiping chocolate on his brand-new, freshly pressed dress pants.  We didn’t even try to find seats in the main church, we just headed straight to the overflow mass in the gym with all the other families on the struggle bus that morning.  I’m not going to lie, it made me very happy when families walked in after us, proving I’m not the only mom barely holding it together. 

I must say, I love how every time you try to sneak into mass late all unobtrusively, there is always an overzealous usher that wants to parade you around the church to these hidden seats he knows of.  Like, “I know everyone is kneeling and no one is talking, but let’s briskly walk to the other side, tap on some shoulders and ask people to scooch down.”  You will most likely have to tell him no three times and then avoid eye contact the remainder of the mass, so he doesn’t offer again.  Also, what is with the people desperate to sit on the end that refuse to scooch down?  The one’s that make you awkwardly suck in your stomach while attempting to sidestep around them in the pew praying your butt doesn’t graze their body.  No thanks, I’d rather stand for an hour than play that game. 

Growing up in church I would always scan the room looking for people I knew.  This Sunday I was looking for moms, all pious and proud with their clans, trying to imagine what mayhem was ensuing in their households’ minutes before getting in the car.  Did they have to lay out not only their children’s clothes but their husbands as well?  Did their husbands ask if they could wear jeans to church on Easter?  Did they also respond with, “Are you insane?!” 

I chuckled as I noticed a mom getting dragged out of her pew every so often by a different child I assumed “had to go to the bathroom.”  I also noticed the moms giving their children “the look” and the mischievous grins of siblings contemplating their shenanigans.

Then comes the age-old question of, “Can we leave after communion?”  I mean let’s face it, we all try to justify this.  We have to beat the crowds to the parking lot, my baby is getting fussy, we are on a time crunch.  I’m pretty sure growing up there was never a mass I didn’t try to negotiate this point with my parents. 

So, to all the moms out there, fighting this valiant fight, who against all odds manage to get your families to church on Sundays, I see you.  You are warriors the toughest soldiers wouldn’t want to mess with.  Keep in mind, if your mom was that mom growing up, who despite soccer schedules, band practice and vacations made sure your butt was in a pew on Sundays, get on her good side.  For she is in favor with the Lord, and when you haven’t got a prayer, you’ll want hers. 

And if you’re like me and by the end of mass your bean pole son’s pants are all stretched out from squirming in his seat and suddenly, they drop below his Thomas the Train underwear while walking to the car, I’ll pretend not to notice.  For moms at mass have a code of rules just like Fight Club.  During the hour we are inside that church, we will all pretend the tantrums, stains and mishaps didn’t happen.  That is until we can get home, pop open some Rosé, and tell dad he’s on duty the rest of the day.  Because let’s face it, we earned it!    

Tonight will be my official last post for Lent 2023.  I have written nightly for the past 45 days so now I would like to reflect on what I have learned.  I do feel like this process has been a game-changer for me, in a multitude of ways.  I went from a “cultural Catholic” back to a proud Catholic.  I went from someone who used Covid and germs as an excuse to stay away from mass, to now finding myself compelled to go back.  My journey writing this Lenten season has helped my soul in so many ways.  Since biblically 8 is thought to represent new life, resurrection, and new beginnings, I thought that would be a fitting number for my list.         

1.  I learned things I am embarrassed to say I didn’t already now.  Facts about Jesus and the church that you would have expected a Catholic school graduate to know. 
2. I learned new and surprising things about Jesus and the church that most people don’t know.  Radical facts that blew my mind.    
3. I learned patience and observed myself fighting less with my loved ones.
4. I learned I cannot write without constantly snacking (which is why tonight’s Good Friday post will be less jazzy than most, since I cannot indulge).    
5. I learned how much I love writing, as I adored every single second of it throughout this Lenten season. 
6. I learned how to be an active participant in my relationship with God, rather than passively going through the motions. 
7. I learned that challenging your faith isn’t a bad thing and on the flip side, blind faith isn’t a good thing. 
8. I learned that writing is a passion of mine I have no plans of quitting. 

I am so grateful to everyone who has taken the time to read my humble blog and those who have encouraged and supported me in this process.  I do plan on continuing to write through the Easter season, although nightly I probably cannot sustain.  So, you will probably be hearing from me three days a week, since you know, God loves the number three.  I wish everyone a blessed Easter holiday.  Godspeed!    

My first memory with communion was during a tour of our church in first grade.  We were each given an unblessed host to try.  I broke off a small piece of it and put the rest in my folder to take home to give to my mom.  I can still picture her going through my folder at the kitchen table, finding this random, broken host and popping it into her mouth like it was the most normal thing in the world.   

Critics of Catholicism will call us cannibals because we believe we are literally eating the body and blood of Christ.  Although I’m not even sure if most Catholics understand transubstantiation, let alone believe in it.  In fact, to think about how indifferent most of us are about receiving communion in comparison to what a phenomenal miracle the eucharist really is, it is beyond ironic. 

So since today is Holy Thursday, which commemorates when Jesus established the sacrament of Holy Communion, let’s review some facts to help us better appreciate just what Jesus gave us. 

If you are unfamiliar with the term transubstantiation, it is a Scholastic term that attempts to explain how bread and wine can become the body and blood of the Lord without losing their exterior appearance.  If you are confused, don’t be too hard on yourself, so were the apostles.

“This saying is hard; who can accept it?”

John 6:60

Apparently during the Middle Ages, terms were established to explain this phenomenon such as “accidents” and “substance.”  You’d think a 1,000 plus years later we would have come up with some terminology that better insinuates these meanings but whatever, here we go. 

Accidents = Our physical attributes which grow, change, age over time. 

Substance = Our eternal invisible essence which always stays the same.   

With transubstantiation, it is the reserve. The physical attributes (accidents) of the bread and wine remain the same, but the essence (substance) has changed. 

“Amen, amen, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you do not have life within you.” 

John 6: 53

Tim Staples explains reasons why the Eucharist and cannibalism are different.  Essentially what we are eating does not take on the physical taste/ texture of flesh and blood.  We consume the entirety (body, blood, soul, divinity of Jesus), not just His body.  Our nourishment is everlasting.  We can consume the eucharist every day, again and again. 

“This is my body, which will be given for you; do this in memory of me.”  

Luke 22:19

In researching this topic I have found that the church has recognized over a hundred Eucharistic miracles, thus proving evidence of Jesus’ presence.  They have been seen in bloodstained cloths, bright lights, and even the face of the Christ.  These miracles have mostly occurred during times of weakened faith in transubstantiation. 

Ultimately Father Mike Schmitz says the Eucharist is what Jesus says the Eucharist is: the body, blood, soul, and divinity of Jesus himself.  In fact, in the Gospel of John, Chapter 6, Jesus says this again and again.  In fact, this is one of the few instances in the Bible in which Jesus LOSES followers for His teaching.  That is how radical yet essential the true meaning of the eucharist is. 

“As a result of this, many [of] his disciples returned to their former way of life and no longer accompanied him.” 

John 6:66

“As a result of this, many [of] his disciples returned to their former way of life and no longer accompanied him.”  John 6:66

Did anyone else gets chills noticing the numbers of that bible verse are 666?  That can’t be a coincidence.    

Who would have thought a meager wafer could carry such important work?  I don’t know about you, but I am now a little more excited about receiving communion Easter Sunday. 

Two days shy of the end of Lent, and I finally made it to confession, it’s a good thing I don’t procrastinate much!  Realizing the time, I yelled for my husband to watch the baby, and searched for my notes.  Confused, my husband asked me why I had notes.  I exasperatedly explained to him that I had to go through my examination of conscience and write down the Act of Contrition because I did not have it memorized.  (Little did I know they would have a cheat sheet in the confessional!)

“What are you going to say to the priest?”  I remember during grade school confession days everyone would be whispering this question to each other while we waited in line.  “Oh, you’re going with the disrespect your parents thing?  That’s a good one.  I think I’ll say I fought with my siblings.”   

Some people don’t believe I’m an introvert, and as I sat in line for confession holding myself back from starting conversations with the people around me, I guess I can see why.  “Excuse me, how does this work?  Do we just start reciting the Act of Contrition on our own or wait for the priest to give the go ahead?” 

When it was my turn, I cautiously slid into the room, careful to hide myself behind the screen, and spoke quietly so my naturally loud teacher voice didn’t drift into the waiting area.  The priest had a soft, gentle presence and it was not at all scary.  As I returned to pray my penance, I noticed an interesting book on the kneeler.  Did Jesus Really Rise from the Dead?    I took it as a direct sign from God I was supposed to read this book.  That maybe somebody purposefully left it there as a “pay it forward” type thing.  I felt very special.  Until I left and realized it was probably a misplaced book from the display at the entrance which you are supposed to pay for.  Wait, did I just steal?  Do I need to go back to confession?  Don’t worry, I wanted to use the Lord’s name in vain right there, but I restrained myself.

I must say, it is a very exquisite experience to sit in the church without the hustle and bustle of a mass.  You can relax and listen to the music playing or have the Virgin Mary statue all to yourself, it’s actually very Zen!  So maybe the sacrament of reconciliation is about more than just sins.  Maybe sitting at home, telling our sins straight to God, wouldn’t give us the same satisfaction.  I mean my husband did tell me I was “glowing” when I got home, so there is that. 

To me holding in our sins reminds me of binge drinking in college.  You know if you could just purge yourself, you would feel so much better, but you can’t bring yourself to do it.  At least if you are like me, you will resist vomiting at all costs.  However, if and when you do throw up, you feel so much better and ask yourself why you didn’t do it earlier!  Sins, like alcohol, are toxins in our body.  Ideally, we shouldn’t commit them to begin with but the more we do the more we need absolution for the health of our faith. 

I think most Catholics drag their feet when it comes to confession, but ultimately the anticipation is so much scarier than the act itself.  Just like the crude, previously mentioned metaphor.

The thing about the Act of Reconciliation is, the more you do it, the more acutely aware of your sins you become.  Hopefully that awareness leads to less sinning.  Although I’m afraid some of my major vices such as jealousy and inhaling potato chips might require a bit more work in self-restraint.  It’s a good thing I’ll be back to confession, I mean I did steal that book and all.          

The true meaning of compassion is ‘to suffer together.’

Mother olga

This Saturday’s Work of Mercy topic with Mother Olga was to Comfort the Afflicted.  This very much reminded me of my own suffering through child loss and the various ways in which people tried to comfort me (or lack thereof).  It also made me contemplate my own acts of compassion towards the pain of others before and after these deaths in my timeline of empathetic development. 

I really hate to admit this, but suffering is in fact a gift.  It is a gift of wisdom.  It is a gift in teaching you how to feel compassion for others and to be completely crude it is a gift in how to NOT be an a*shole!  That is something my friends and I in our SHARE group have repeatedly said.  As much as we wish we were on the other side, oblivious to how cruel life can be, we are grateful for our wisdom and in turn not being “a*sholes.”    

So much in fact that at an earlier date, drunk on my self-pity and bitterness, I wrote a poem on the topic.  The cadence comes from my son’s Dr. Seuss book, Would you Rather be a Bullfrog. 

You might want to re-read the book before the poem to get the full effect.

Enjoy!   

Has your attention ever been directed to a time so special, that it filled your heart with pure joy, if only for a moment, yet it was so serene you find yourself constantly looking at clocks trying to recreate it? 

I have no doubt, that angels have the ability to direct our attention here on earth.  So, the question remains not “if” but “why?” 

I am frequently awake during various parts of the night, but rarely do I look at a clock.  Then, last night after feeding my baby, before returning to sleep I had the compelling urge to check the time.  There it was, 3:33 am, on the dot. 

Now I have already spoken before of God’s affinity for the number three (three Persons of the Trinity, three crosses on the hill, Jesus was in the grave three days, etc.)  Evidently, the number three appears in the bible 467 times.  Many people believe 333 to be an “angel number” since Jesus died at 3pm at the age of 33 years-old and for the ongoing list of instances of “threes” in the bible. 

There is a wide array of beliefs and interpretations of the biblical meaning of the number 333.  It can insinuate anything from spiritual growth to angel communication to prayers coming true.  Really the discernment is up to you. 

However, the question remains, what do we do with these moments and is there danger in overinterpretation?  There appears to be a fine line between noting angelic guidance that teeters on heathen practices such as divination.  How do we know our “signs” are those from a true angel of light and not an imposter trying to deceive us?      

“And no wonder for even Satan masquerades as an angel of light.”

2 Corinthians 11:14

In fact, some people are terrified to wake up between the hours of 3-4 am and believe it to be the “witching hour.”  Furthermore, if you google “3:33 am” you will find a divide between those that find it angelic and those that fear it demonic.  So, which is it?  Do we hide under the covers, or relax in ecstasy?     

Just as when Marian apparitions are called into question for divine authenticity, we could use the same criteria relating to transparency.  Simply put, does the “angelic moment” lead us to God and promote our faith?  Does the instance “Bear good fruit?” I trust we will know the difference. 

The ironic part is that we cannot overthink these instances because if we do, they won’t happen.  Maybe that’s part of God’s firewall to protect us from idolatry.  As a kid, did you ever try to look at the clock at a specific second?  I bet you never could, but I bet you caught the clock many times as a total accident.  Although “accident” doesn’t seem like a fitting word.  It really makes you wonder.  

We are constantly begging for “signs.”  How funny it must be to watch us from Heaven.  From there it is probably abundantly clear, as if the angels are holding billboards and shouting in our ears with megaphones, yet our earthly distractions bear us clueless.  Except in the middle of the night, on that fine line, full of mixed emotions, do we catch a glimpse.         

Have you ever texted a friend and when they didn’t respond to you, become paranoid that they were mad at you?  Then you start replaying in your mind your last encounters, double checking you didn’t do anything wrong that could have upset them?  Do you ever feel like that with God or the Blessed Mother?  I do. 

This morning as everything seemed to be going wrong; overslept, running late, couldn’t find a parking spot, I wondered this very thing.  Is the Blessed Mother mad at me for not going to mass?  Are we in a fight?  Then suddenly a spot opens up.  Phew, my friend texts me back, conflict avoided, paranoia over, at least for now.

For real though, I know the Catholic church does not support the notion of Karma, but we all know what goes around comes around.  Maybe we just don’t label it as Karma per say? 

My question is, where do we draw the line between “Karma” and normal life?  After my second baby died, I seriously started to wonder if I committed heinous crimes in a past life.  Again, I know the church does not support reincarnation, but still, to get struck by lightening twice seemed a little too much to be a coincidence.  Did I fail to learn the lesson when my first daughter died, so God took my second as well?  Is there a test I’m not passing?     

Some of my students are shocked to learn I have never been in a physical fight.  They say, “Well what would you do if someone was talking sh*t about you?”  I tell them two things.

1. “Live in such a way that if someone should speak badly of you, no one would believe it.”  Zig Ziglar
2. I simply remind them that they don’t have to get their hands dirty.  Life has a way of sorting these things out without lowering yourself to their standards.  (AKA Karma)

I also have this fear that the closer you are to God, the more you suffer.  Again with the saints, what I remember most is that they were extremely close to God and suffered greatly.  Ergo, closeness to God = suffering.  I know it sounds crazy but fear of enduring more suffering has been a reason in my mind to distance myself from God.  Like, “Keep on roaming God!  We don’t want any suffering today!”    

The Book of Job dissects the eternal problems of unmerited suffering.  Job, a pious man who has everything, loses it all, and tries to understand why, ultimately learns to trust in the purposeful activity of God.  My question is, if Job was less pious, would God not have used him as His example?  If Job was just good enough to get into Heaven, could he have kept his money, family and health?  Are we punished in this life for being good?  For being bad?  These aren’t rhetorical questions; I am really expecting an answer.  Job went down in history for his fervent faith, but would he have been happier being just an average Joe/ Job? (See what I did there?)

So maybe the true reason Catholics don’t believe in Karma is because sometimes it’s backwards.  Is this a system error we should submit a Helpdesk for?  Father Mike Schmitz would say we are obsessed with blame so that we can figure out how to avoid the problem.  I truly don’t see the harm in that.  I understand suffering has its place in the world but maybe we could put a cap on it?  Teachers are required to give students the objectives at the start of the lesson and isn’t Jesus the ultimate teacher? 

Is God an angry father that when he receives bad news from school, HE punishes us by taking our metaphorical phones away?  Or is God that teacher that makes us be in a group with the annoying kids because He knows nobody else will be nice to them? 

Are we punished for being good, being bad, or a hybrid?  My biggest fear is that life is just one big episode of Dateline, and at the end, we never solve the mystery. 

Whatever the case God, I hate conflict and will avoid confrontation at all costs.  So please just tell me what I need to do to not be in a fight.