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"Faith and Grace in Challenging Times"

Fr. Chuck McCoart read these two items during his sermon delivered at the 11AM Mass at St. Charles on January 6, 2002

(Jump down to Lorraine Murray's "Facing Down Fears" article)

Dear God
I have no idea where I am going.
I do not see the road ahead of me.
I cannot know for certain where it
will end. Nor do I really know
myself, and the fact that I think that
I am following your will does not
mean that I am actually doing so.
But I believe this: I believe that
the desire to please you does, in fact,
please you. I hope I have
that desire in everything I do.
I hope I never do anything apart
from that desire. And I know
that if I do this you will lead
me by the right road though I
may know nothing about it
at the time. Therefore, I will trust
you always for though I may seem
to be lost, and in the shadow of
death, I will not be afraid because
I know you will never leave one to
face my troubles all alone. Amen.

- Thomas Merton

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Lorraine Murray's article will be published in book Grace Notes: Embracing the Joy of Christ in a Broken World, available starting March 15, 2002. This reprint is used with permission of the publisher, Resurrection Press, an imprint of Catholic Book Publishing Co., Totowa, NJ 07512. To order call 1-800-892-6657.

Facing Down Fears

I peeked into the room. It was quite crowded. Many people were checking their watches as if they were expecting someone. I took a deep breath before opening the door. I am the one they're expecting, I realized. I had called the meeting, and I was nervous.

There were men and women, young and old, well dressed and shabby. But I recognized them immediately.

They were my worst fears.

The room grew quiet as I took my seat. A big guy was hunched over in his chair near the window. I decided to start with him.

"How long have you been with me?" I asked him.

"I came on board when you were just a little kid," he said, adjusting his tie.

"And you are?"

"I'm your fear of being abandoned."

Suddenly I remembered the babysitters who had paraded through our house after my mother had returned to work when I was just two years old. Every time she had walked out the door, my sister and I had wailed. We had feared she wouldn't return.

"Aren't you somewhat outdated?" I wondered aloud. "My mom's been dead for years."

"Oh, I keep you up with the times," he replied. "You never know when your husband might walk out on you."

"That's absurd," I countered. "We've been happily married for nearly 20 years."

He glowered at me. "Call me absurd if you want to. You're the boss."

I stalled for time, jotting down notes while I reflected. I have a loving husband, a family, good friends. Why is this guy still on the payroll? I wondered.

I glanced around the room again. I spotted a snappily dressed woman who looked eager to talk.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"I'm your fear of dying," she said in a proud tone of voice. "I've been with you ever since your mom died of breast cancer over 20 years ago."

She gestured at two well-heeled women sitting behind her. "They report to me," she said proudly. "They are your fear of suffering and your fear of getting cancer."
"I work really hard and I put in long hours," she added. "I think I deserve a raise."

I had to agree with her. Ever since I was diagnosed with cancer a year ago, she and her team had paid me visits first thing in the morning and last thing at night. I certainly could not accuse her of slacking off.

Still, I felt ashamed to acknowledge her identity. She made me uneasy. If I truly believed that this world is transitory, a way station midway between birth and eternity, then surely I would not see death as such a terrible thing. Surely I would send this group of fears packing.

Stirring from my reflections, I realized I had nearly overlooked someone. He was the tallest guy in the room. He looked miffed as he raised a beefy hand.

"I'm one of your main fears," he said. "I underpin all the others. Without me, the rest would be nothing."

He paused and then delivered the punch line.

"I'm your fear that the promises of Christ are false. I'm your fear that when you die, you will confront total nothingness."

A hush fell over the room. Everyone looked at me, but I was too stunned to reply. I could not really deny what he had said. If I truly believed in the Lord's teachings, I certainly wouldn't be confronting a roomful of fears. Didn't Jesus say over and over, "Fear no" and "Do not let your hearts be troubled"? Wasn't he always saying, "Peace be with you"?

At that moment, I spotted someone sitting all by himself in a corner. He looked different from the rest. He had very big, soulful eyes.

"Which fear are you?" I asked.

"I'm not a fear," he said quietly. "I sneaked into the meeting out of curiosity. You see, I represent hundreds of others who aren't here right now. I stand for all the prayers that have been said for you during the past year, and all the prayers still being said for you - by your friends, your church community, your family, your readers."

He reached out his hand and I grasped it gently. As his fingers intertwined with mine, I felt my anxiety starting to ebb.

Suddenly there was an ugly sound of snarling and growling. Looking up, I saw the fears rising from their seats. Horrified, I realized they were heading straight for us.

Mouth dry, heart pounding, I did the only thing I knew how to do. I tightened my grip on the gentle guy's hand and closed my eyes. Then I began to pray aloud.

"Our Father, who art in heaven," I began.

When I looked up again, my fears had vanished.

or Faith Resources

Revised/reviewed February 2, 2002

See also: Fr. Chuck's house blessing kit