A Long Prologue

"I acknowledge Thee, Lord of heaven and earth, and praise Thee for my first rudiments of being, and my infancy, whereof I remember nothing..." The Confessions by St. Augustine of Hippo

Palm Sunday 2022

 

We first suspected that we were expecting a new baby on the feast of All Saints, 2021.  We were both in denial, though. Theodore wasn't even 7 months old and there just wasn't any way...was there? Turns out there was.

It was a long time before we told anyone else; friends or family. It wasn't until after the new year, when Elizabeth began to show, that we told her family.  We finally decided that we better get our head in the game, some time in January. This little baby was making her presence known and we decided to make a plan.  Theo had been born at a hospital in Austin during the craziness that was the covid scare, and the entire experience was such a train wreck, that we decided this new baby would be born at home with a midwife, just like four of her old brothers and sisters had been. 

This little one would be baby number twelve for us and we felt like we had a pretty good handle on how things typically go.  If you get through the first trimester without a miscarriage, then it's just a waiting game.  We'd done it eight times before, and number nine, would be just fine.

In March I'd gotten an out of the blue, unexpected call from a childhood friend, whom I hadn't spoken to in a decade. Fr. Martin Bernhard,OSB, had grown up in Fredericksburg, a couple of years my junior.  We'd both attended Texas A&M, and gotten to know one another well in the summer and fall of 2003, when I'd come back to the Catholic Church.  As a newly minted "D&C Butt" in the Corps of Cadets, I had a lot more free time than I'd had in my previous two years, and I was bound and determined to take advantage of it.  He and I, along with another friend, spent many Sundays traveling around Texas experiencing the liturgies we'd never heard of growing up.  We wound up at a free Astros game one Sunday after our first Byzantine Divine Liturgy, were moved to tears hearing the Lord's prayer sung in Aramaic at the Maronite Church in Austin, and most significantly, for the first time experienced the austere beauty of the Roman Canon prayed silently at a low Mass in Downtown Houston.  The following semester I left for Honduras for 6 months and when I returned, Brandon (his given name) had up and transferred to Steubenville.  But we kept in touch still and followed his discernment from afar.  He was in our wedding, I put friends in contact with him in Rome where he was studying as a seminarian, he'd visit from time to time when he was back on breaks, and we went to his priestly ordination for the diocese of Tyler.  About one year later, though, he decided to join the Benedictines in Norcia, Italy, and after that we lost contact. 

So when my phone rang on a Tuesday in March, 2022 with an Italian number showing up in the caller id, I figured it was just some sort of weird robo call.  It wasn't.  "Hellooo Jason, this is Fr. Martin.  I'm in the area and wanted to visit with you."  Of course we said yes.  I took off of work and headed home.  Elizabeth cancelled our after school activities and we just had a great two hour visit.  He prayed with us, blessed all manner of things, talked with the kids and with us.  It was wonderful.  He had to go meet with donors to the monastery that night, though, and so we said our goodbyes.  In the late hours of the
night, waiting for sleep to come, I was joyful, but gun-shy. 

These sorts of unexpected, out of the blue, moments of grace have happened from time to time throughout our lives, and often they seem to be what I call "transfiguration moments".  Christ took Peter, James and John up to Mt. Tabor where they were witness to His Divine glory.  It was transcendent, and St. Peter, in particular, wanted it to go on forever.  But it could not, and in even in the course of the heavenly conversation which the disciples overheard, the reason it could not was discussed.  They "spoke of his departure, which he was to accomplish at Jerusalem."  It is no coincidence that the three who saw His glory were also to see Him in His greatest agony, sweating blood, and falling on His face asking the Father to "take this cup from me".  Mt. Tabor's glory prepared and strengthened them for first Mt. Olive's darkness then Mt. Calvary's.  Fr. Martin's visit prepared us for some dark days ahead as well.

 A nagging feeling had led me to say yes, when the midwife asked us if we'd like to do the tests for genetic screening.  We'd never done it before, but for some reason we did this time. We were far beyond ever considering abortion due to a genetic anomaly, as so many sadly choose in our bloodthirsty society, but I did want to know for some reason, if there was anything to be concerned about.  As it would happen, there was.

Ten days later, we were supposed to meet at the midwife's office, but for some reason it wasn't going to happen.  She was about to leave on a trip, a kid was sick an I had to be at work, so we had a three way phone conference, her, Elizabeth and me. The results were in, and she really would prefer to have this conversation in person, but...it was Trisomy 21.  Downs Syndrome.  My mind reeled. What would this mean for us? I was turning 40 that year.  I was going to be an old dad, and now I was going to be parenting, potentially, for the rest of my life a very high needs .  What was going to happen?!? Is there anything I can do?  The midwife broke me out of my mental spin-out by asking if she could pray for us.  Yes, of course.  She prayed a beautiful prayer from the heart, thanking God for the gift of this child, who would be born into a family that loved her surrounded by a community that would love her.  She asked for the Lord's protection and grace and strength for us.  She concluded her prayer in the Holy Name of Jesus, and I heard a very distinct deep male voice say "Amen" just before me.  It surprised me.  I looked up and straight at a statue of the Holy Family, in front of which I was parked.  St. Joseph?  Was that you? Months later I'd find out I was the only one who heard the voice.  I went into the church and prayed.

The next weekend, Elizabeth left on on a girls' trip with her sister.  That's when the idea for a pilgrimage first entered my mind. We stayed local for Mass on Sunday.  It's been hard for me to go to the Mass just down the road.  It's where I was baptized, confirmed and communed for the first time.  It's seen a lot of the events of my life over the last 40 years.  But one thing it has never been is inspiring. Burlap banners, blasé, off-key singing, polyester vestments and plain, unadorned walls, it is the epitome of the boredom of the last 70 years that has not so much killed the faith of millions, as allowed it to slowly starve. I knelt there after Mass, thinking about how I may well be stuck here in this parish, for the rest of my life, if this new child's needs were such that travel became an impossibility.  In that moment I offered up the death of my own will in such matters, if that is what the Lord wished, but, like Augustine, who in his "wretched youth" asked for chastity and constancy, but not yet, I also mixed my own prayer with the alloy of self will.  

I majored in history, minored in clas
sics, studied and taught Latin and the history of Rome, but had never visited the Eternal City. I wanted one last hurrah before entering into the death to self, I knew I must.  So I began planning.  It was only as an afterthought, through guilt of my own selfishness, that I conceived of my trip as a pilgrimage.  Perhaps this was God's mercy to me, though, because once I had settled on the pilgrimage, it became clear that this was something I could do about the situation.  I could pray, I could go barefoot, I could fast, I could travel by foot and sleep on the streets if need be and by my own pitiful efforts show God that I desperately wanted this little child and all that came with her.  I spoke to Elizabeth when she got home and she gave me her blessing.  I bought the tickets to Rome for Holy Week.  I then sent a message to Fr. Martin letting him know my plan.  He gave me his blessing too. I was set.

 We had already decided to name her Azalea, after St. Marie Azelie (Zelie) Martin, the mother of the Little Flower.  I had it in my mind that if I could somehow bring back a relic of St. Zelie, our Zelie would have a much easier time at life. I wrote the following letter to the pastor of the parish we'd been attending, St. Martin de Porres in Dripping Springs: 

March 31, 2022

 

Dear Fr. Justin,

I'm writing to see if you might be willing to help me in a certain matter, that I believe could be a blessing to my family specifically and the parish in general.  We are one of the families from Fredericksburg.  We attend the Latin Mass, and my boys, Michael and Travis serve at the altar, and my daughters Anne and Rose sing in the choir, and my wife, Elizabeth, fills in on the organ from time to time. 

This July, we are expecting our 12th child, and we recently found out that she is very likely to be born with Downs Syndrome.  We are planning on naming her Azelia (Zelie) Marie, in honor of the Little Flower's sainted mother, and we would appreciate your prayers for her and us.  Additionally, Elizabeth has a very aggressive form of MS that attacks her spine, and I anticipate our life is going to change quite drastically and for a long time come this July.  We are ready to accept these crosses from our Lord, but we are still weak and overwhelmed at times. 

I've spent the better part of 20 years studying and teaching about the Roman Republic and Empire, and yet, I've never visited the Eternal City, or Europe at all for that matter.  My wife and I decided that if I were going to ever make that pilgrimage, it was probably now or never. So I booked a round trip ticket to Rome, and hope to arrive Monday in Holy Week and be there through Easter Monday. I am planning on staying in Rome until Thursday, and then travel to the Benedictine monastery in Norcia, where a good friend is a priest, to stay and observe the rites of the sacred Triduum according to the pre-1955 ceremonies, before returning home. 

All of that is background to my request of you. 

I would like you to ask the postulator general Discalced Carmelite for a relic of Sts. Louis & Marie-Azelie Martin, for the adoration chapel dedicated to their daughter, St. Therese, and then bless my wife and unborn daughter with.  I have my doubts that things would move quickly enough for me to go to their headquarters in Rome and receive the relics for transport back to Texas, but I am willing, if Our Lord and Our Lady open those doors.

The norms for requesting a first class relic can be found at https://www.postocd.org/index.php/en/relics/normatives .  "Normally, only petitions from parish pastors or superiors of religious communities are accepted.  They must always specify that the relics are for public veneration by the faithful and must clearly indicate the place where the relic will be placed for veneration by the faithful." There are other norms that apply to this situation, but you can click the link above to read them. The actual request form can be found at https://www.postocd.org/index.php/en/relics/to-request-relics .  

I hope you will consider this request, Fr. Justin, and thank you for all you do to bless our family, and all of the faithful.

Jason Ferguson