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Thursday, September 14, 2000
The Southern Cross, Page 5
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J
W
God’s grace heals memories
O ver the years, I’ve had a
hard time talking with
my four children about the
baby I miscarried before
they were bom. First of
all, the word “baby” does
n’t seem to fit a develop
ing child whose gestation
ended at only 9 weeks. As
much as “baby” doesn’t
quite fit, the word “fetus
Awkward as it’s been to talk
about the miscarriage to
my children, to affirm the
value of this baby’s,
their sibling’s, exis
tence, I know I must.
The miscarriage, which
occurred in 1982, when I
was in my third month of
my first pregnancy, was
Mary Hood Hart one of the saddest experi-
seems so cold, so clinical. So, I use
the word “baby” cautiously.
Knowing how literal children are, I
keep my description precise. I
describe the baby as “ tiny, way too
small to survive being bom, but,
until it died, growing and with a
beating heart.”
When Katie was 4 and in pre
school, she told her teacher about
“the baby Mama lost.” Not knowing
the circumstances, the teacher called
me aside and expressed her concern.
As I fumbled for words to explain a
miscarriage that had happened 5
years before, I felt foolish. And
while the teacher was sympathetic, I
wondered if she didn’t think I was
dwelling on something I should’ve
gotten over long ago. I wondered,
too, if she questioned my judgment
about sharing the story with Katie at
such a young age.
ences of my life. When I admit my
grief over that loss, I’m compelled
to add this—much worse things
happen to people. Surely, the death
of a baby at six months’ gestation or
at birth or from SIDS creates a more
pronounced sense of loss, far greater
suffering than I endured. Surely, in
the scheme of things, what hap
pened to me could’ve been much,
much worse.
Yet why do I feel compelled to
qualify, quantify, the pain of this
loss? Since the Church teaches, and
I believe, that God’s gift of life
begins at conception^ how can the
loss of a human life be deemed less
significant because of its very brief
duration?
Months after I miscarried, I strug
gled with those questions. And in
that struggle, I felt completely
alone. Immediately afterward, peo
ple were very kind. Some sent flow
ers. Some wrote letters or sent
cards. Those condolences meant a
great deal to both Jim and me. But
after a few weeks, I was expected to
“get over it.” And being faced with
that expectation, I was angry.
At first, in my confusion and pain,
I directed my anger towards the
Church. I wondered how Catholics
could maintain the belief that life
begins at the moment of conception,
and yet, when human life is lost in
its earliest stages, there was offered,
at least where I lived at that time, no
support system, no way for parents
to formalize their grief.
I was angry at those who tried to
console me by describing the mis
carriage as “for the best.” No tests
were done to determine the cause,
so I was on my own searching for
some sort of explanation. Well-
meaning people, my doctor includ
ed, told me that miscarriage was
quite common and was “nature’s
way of fixing its genetic mistakes.”
Was this how I should view my
child? As some sort of aberration?
Some freak of nature I was lucky to
have discarded?
A good friend, who was pregnant
and whose due date was a month
before mine, likened my grief to the
feeling one might get when one’s
pet is run over by a car. Hurt by her
apparent lack of understanding, I
wondered how she could view my
baby as less human than the one
developing in her womb.
It has taken me years to heal from
those hurts, and perhaps, in writing
this, I am still healing. But healing
may never have begun had I not
finally realized, through expressing
my sorrow and anger in prayer, that
I had lost a baby, not simply a fetus,
and certainly not a genetic accident.
I had lost something precious, and I
had a real reason to mourn.
Not only did I have a reason to
mourn, but Jesus was sharing my
sorrow, weeping with me as I
endured the pain of loss. As soon as
I realized this, determining why I
lost the baby seemed unimportant.
The feelings of bitterness, anger,
and confusion began to lose their
grip on me, and over time I was
granted the peace that comes from
God’s healing grace.
Mary Hood Hart lives with her
husband and four children in
Sunset Beach, N.C.
Q uestion: Recently at church, in the sermon
and the bulletin, certain items pertaining to
[me revised] General Instruction of the Roman
Missal were expounded upon, regarding “what
is laid down by liturgical law and by the tradi
tional practice of the Roman Rite, for the sake of
the common spiritual good of the people of God
rather than to personal inclination or arbitrary
choice.” Three items in particular [were men
tioned]: raising arms and hands at various time
of the Mass, genuflecting at receiving commun
ion or in the line, and holding hands at the “Our
Father.” Please comment on these three. Do we
the laity have the “right” to express our faith and
spirituallity by raising hands, genuflecting, hold
ing hands? Does the Church have the “right” to
request or demand that we do otherwise?
—Nancy Garner
A nswer: The revised General Instruction of
the Roman Missal (GIRM) repeats the point
made in the version in effect since 1975 regarding
the posture of the people during Mass. “The uni
formity in posture to be observed by all taking
part is a sign of the unity of the members of the
Christian community gathered for the sacred
Liturgy: it both expresses and fosters the spiritual
attitude of those attending.” The GIRM lays
down some general rules and states that “it is up
to the Conference of Bishops to adapt the ges
tures and postures in the Order of the Mass to the
customs and reasonable traditions of the people
Questions & Answers
according to the law.” While there may be varia
tions from country to country, there is generally
supposed to be a single practice in any given
nation, “for the sake of the common spiritual
good of the people of God,” as you mention.
GIRM 2000, like its predecessor, adds: “For the
sake of observing a uniformity in gestures in the
same celebration, the faithful should obey the
directions which the deacon or a lay person or the
priest give during the celebration, according to
whatever is indicated in the lturgical books.”
Thus, there is and has been a clear expectation
that all participants in the same Mass will follow
the same rubrics as a community of believers.
Mass is not an occasion for individuals to express
their own idosyncratic preferences by adopting a
different posture from the rest of the community
or by using gestures at variance with those indi
cated by the liturgical books, approved by the
bishops and customary in the community.
Specifically, the practice of raising one’s hands
in prayer as the priest does (in the so-called
orans, or praying position) would not seem to be
out of place during the Our Father, when all join
the priest in proclaiming this prayer. Indeed, the
Italian bishops have provided for this option in
Italy. But until the American bishops provide for
this option in the United States, individuals would
be calling attention to themselves and, in a sense,
expressing a certain defiance of the Church’s
liturgical laws and their community’s customs if
they were to insist on making this gesture, espe
cially if asked not to do so by the celebrant or his
delegate. The Lord’s prayer is, after all, supposed
to express the unity of all the children of God,
who confidently call him u our Father.”
Holding hands during the Lord’s Prayer has
caught on in some circles and does give expres
sion to the unity of the people, implied in the
word “our.” However, this adaptation has not
been approved, so far as can be ascertained, by
Rome or by any bishops’ conference for two rea
sons. The ancient orans position is deemed the
appropriate one for this prayer—the celebrant is
always to use it and, as we have seen above, in
some countries the people may use it as well.
Furthermore, the emphasis of the Lord’s Prayer is
ultimately on the “Father” rather than on the
“our.”
GIRM 2000, like GIRM 1975, allows the bish
ops’ conferences of the various nations to specify
whether the people should kneel or stand to
receive communion. In the United States, stand
ing has been the norm for over 30 years. The
individual does not have the right to follow his or
her own rubrics here, but is explicity asked to
“follow the manner of reception indicated by the
pastors so that communion may truly be a sign of
familial union among all those who share in the
same table of the Lord.”
What about the “suitable reverence” before re
ceiving communion, mentioned in the General
Instruction? In places where the people kneel for
(Continued on page I I)