Dear Fellow Parishioners,

After a couple of weeks without a new “Pastor’s Desk,” I’ve been especially anxious to reach out to you near the beginning of this Lenten season which is, in its own way, the most participatory of all the liturgical seasons. While Christmas and Easter are about what God has done, and is doing, for us and all humanity, Lent is about our willingness, in the traditional terminology “to supply what is lacking in the sufferings of Christ.”

First, I would like to thank the many of you who expressed concern for me during my recent illness and hospital stay, with meals (offered or spontaneously delivered), cards and calls to the office. While I was celebrating the Saturday evening Mass on March 1st, my speech became indistinct, and I was having difficulty pronouncing words in my homily. (Not difficult biblical names, which we all have trouble with, but common words.)

After Mass, a couple of working paramedics who happened to be in attendance came to the sacristy to express their concern about what they had witnessed and to offer their help. I was admitted to Petaluma Valley Hospital, then was transferred to Santa Rosa Memorial, and was discharged (appropriately) on Ash Wednesday. I received ashes in the hospital, as did a surprising number of hospital staff. (On the other hand, I was amused that I didn’t see any Lent-observant meal choices on the hospital menu.)

Like most people, I hesitate to speak about personal medical issues. The bulletin would shrink to the size of a holy card if it contained only that which I would willingly discuss. The distinction here is that happened while I was celebrating a public Mass in community. It appears that I had a “TIA” – a transient ischemic attack. Simply stated, it is a temporary interruption of blood flow to the central nervous system which resolves itself with 24 hours and leaves no permanent after effects. If it hadn’t happened during Mass, you probably wouldn’t know about it. The major risk factor is a second, more serious event, within 48 hours of the original episode. That window has long since passed under medical supervision and, God willing, this will be the end of it. There are hereditary factors and, without going into detail, relatives of mine have had similar episodes, recovered completely, and lived very long lives.

From a more spiritual standpoint, being reminded of the weakness of the flesh and universal mortality, is not the worst place to begin Lent. The season of Lent is deliberately limited, if only because one cannot focus on such matters as serious sin and lack of self-sufficiency all the time. The suddenness of Ash Wednesday, appearing as if out of nowhere and on a different date every year, further highlights the transitory and sudden nature of life events. Even more challenging than dealing with one’s own illness is dealing with the illness of a loved one, whose suffering we’d willingly share or completely take on in their place.

Serious and chronic illnesses, for which there is no easy or quick cure, are more and more a feature of life in this age of managed illnesses and extended lifespans. The beauty of Lent is that it gives us strength and, if you will, permission, to face our own suffering and insufficiency with some measure of the courage and strength with which Jesus crossed the empty desert to be tested.

Blessings,
Fr. Bill Donahue