Memorial of Kateri Tekawitha

Scripture Readings:    Is 7:1-9;  Mt 11:20-24                       

In one of Norman Rockwell’s paintings there’s a disheveled school girl sitting on a bench outside the principal’s office. She’s sporting a big black eye and an even bigger grin. It’s obvious she’s been in a fist fight, and the grin indicates that she more than held her own, perhaps even trouncing a class bully. It’s all there: torn clothes, scoffed shoes, mussed up hair, dirt clinging to her arms and legs, but most of all that sweeping grin across her face. She had courage, she fought and won! The bruises don’t matter. The marks of her bruises are medals of honor.  Her bodily pain fades before her inner satisfaction and happiness.

That’s a good image for Kateri Tekawitha.  She had courage. She was a fighter. Her whole family was stricken with small pox when she was four years old. Her parents and her brother died, but she survived, badly scarred by the disease, and nearly blinded. She could hardly see, and had to hold her hands in front of her when she walked to avoid bumping into things. That’s how she received her name: Tekawitha means “she who feels her way along.” Her uncle adopted her, but two aunts treated Kateri badly. She didn’t retaliate, but she wasn’t a push over. Just the opposite, she was a fighter, and soon her name took on the meaning of “she who pushes with her hands.”  Kateri longed to be baptized but had to wait until she was 20 years old and could decide the matter for herself. Her aunts wanted to prevent it, and tried to force her into marriage while she wanted to remain a virgin. Eventually Kateri fled to a Christian village where she was able to practice her faith openly. There she made a vow of virginity and died at the age of 24 from another epidemic. Immediately after her death Kateri’s scarred faced became radiantly beautiful. I dare say, there was not just a smile on her lips, but a grin!

The canvas on which our stories are being painted is incomplete. For us the fight is still on, the bully is upon us, be it the devil, human opposition, or our own temptations. Whatever threatens us, let us take heart from Jesus and the saints who also suffered and were victorious.

 

      

 

Memorial of Kateri Tekawitha

[Scripture Readings: 1 Cor 7:25-35; Mt 25:1-13]

Courage, take heart. Norman Rockwell, one of America’s best known artists, had a gift for painting familiar, often nostalgic views of everyday life. One of his works shows a disheveled school girl sitting on a bench outside the principal’s office. She is sporting a big black eye and an even bigger grin. It is obvious she has been in a fist fight, and the grin indicates that she has more than held her own, perhaps even trouncing the male class bully. It is all there: torn clothes, scoffed shoes, mussed up hair, dirt clinging to her arms and legs, but most of all that sweeping grin across her face. She had courage, she fought and won! The bruises don’t matter. The marks of her wounds are purple ribbons of honor. Her bodily pain fades before her inner satisfaction and happiness.

That is a good image for Jesus and for Kateri Tekawitha. They faced their ordeals with courage and were victorious! Perhaps dried blood and mud were still clinging to Jesus brutally wounded body when he rose from the dead. The marks of the nails that torn through his hands and feet were there for all to see. The place where a lance pierced his side and penetrated his heart was wide and deep. But he more than held his own. His wounds are badges of honor. He fought and won. When he rose there was a radiance in his eyes and a smile on his lips, (maybe even a grin).


Kateri also had courage. Everyone in her family was stricken with small pox when Tekawitha was four years old. Her parents and her brother died, but she survived, badly scarred by the disease, and nearly blinded. She could hardly see, and had to hold her hands in front of her when she walked to avoid bumping into things. That’s how she received her name: Tekawitha means she who feels her way along. Her uncle adopted her, and her two aunts treated Kateri badly. She did not retaliate, but she wasn’t a push over. Just the opposite, she was a fighter, and soon her name took on the meaning of “she who pushes with her hands.” Kateri longed to be baptized but had to wait until she was 20 years old and could decide the matter for herself. Her aunts tried to prevent it, and tried to force her into marriage while she wanted to remain a virgin. Eventually Kateri fled to a Christian village where she was able to practice her faith openly. There she made a vow of virginity and died at the age of 24 from another epidemic. Immediately after her death Kateri’s scarred faced became radiantly beautiful. I dare say, there was not just a smile on her lips, but a grin!

The canvas on which our stories are being painted is incomplete. For us the fight is still on, the bully is upon us, be it the devil, human opposition, or our own temptations. Or it may be our struggle with physical pain from disease or accidents, war or famine, crime or persecution. Whatever threatens us, we can take heart from Jesus who suffers with us. For he loves us, like a tender, caressing parent who lifts a child up to his or her cheek. His abundance of love and courage supplies our need.


I began with a story about a courageous school girl sporting a black eye and an even bigger grin on her face. I want to end with a true story about a nine year old boy named Darrell who was aware of God’s love for him. Darrell was in a hospital in Kenosha, Wisconsin. All you could see were his lips and one blistered cheek. The rest of his body was wrapped in layer upon layer of sterile gauze. The fire that had burned him so badly took the lives of four other family members. The magnitude of his suffering made every touch an agony so that his screams echoed far down the corridor. One day this boy overheard another patient say to the nurses, “How can God do this to an innocent child?” Darrell’s voice rang out, “Don’t say anything against God! When it hurts, God cries with me.”

Yes, the naked, bleeding, crucified Christ who became poor for our sakes cries with us. Let us take heart from his love. When we have fought the good fight he will wipe away all tears from our eyes. Death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning nor crying nor pain any more, for the former things pass away. Instead, there will be a sweeping grin on our faces.