November 2001

Welcome dear friends,

November for me is truly a month full of reasons to give thanks. Some of my favorite feast days in this month include: All Saints, All Souls, Veterans, Thanksgiving, St. Andrew Dũng-Lạc & companions and Christ the King. These feast days remind me that I’m so blessed with many things in life. I’m thankful for being born into a Catholic family and that on my life’s journey as a Christian, I have many holy companions to walk with me, to support me and to pray for me. These are the Saints and the departed souls whose feast days will be commemorated by the Church this month. I’m thankful for the many soldiers who lost their lives and those who are still fighting right now for the peace and liberty that we so often take for granted every day of our life. May God hold them close to His Heart. I’m thankful and proud that I belong to the same race as that of the brave and faithful Vietnamese Martyrs - St. Andrew Dũng-Lạc & Companions whose feast day is November 24. But most of all, I’m so thankful that Jesus had purchased with his own Blood, the ultimate victory for me and for the whole world - Eternal Life in His Kingdom. For that, Jesus is truly Christ the King!

In the spirit of gratitude, I like to share this writing by anh Nguyễn Quang Hải Ðạt with you. In light of the pain and sorrow he felt for the victims of September 11, this writer was able to see a light of hope shining forth beneath the dark clouds of dooms. I hope you’ll enjoy this story and be inspired by it.

Take care and God bless you,

Ps: Be thankful, God loves you!

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Like many people around the world, I watched with horror as the tragedy unfolded on the TV screens: thousands of innocent lives destroyed by a senseless act of violence. A sense of loss, pain, and sorrow permeated my heart for days afterwards. I heard wrenching stories of the widows and of heroic acts of the perished husbands, and I cried with their heartbreak. As I cried with them, I also cried for myself. The loss and sorrow somehow seemed familiar.

When I lost my country twenty-six years ago, I felt similar pain and sorrow. For the first time, I realized that I had not mourned losing that part of my life in which I’ve left behind. I walked away from the place I was born and grew up with my family and my friends elsewhere. For twenty some years, I walked on the same streets, shopped at the same stores, attended the same church, lived in the same house... I left all that behind in matter of hours. It was so sudden that I didn’t even have a chance to say good-bye to my father who was out of town at that time. I later heard that he broke down in tears the next day he came home. His nest was empty. His children dispersed in the whirlwind. I never saw him again; he passed away a few years later.

As I listened to stories of heroism, of selfless sacrifices, of life perished, and watched images of the mountain of rubbles of the World Trade Center and of the burning wing of the Pentagon, helplessness mounted in my heart. I wish I could be there to help, but even if I was there to help, what could I do to help alleviate the pain and the loss? How could I console those who lost loved ones? My heart could not harbor enough of the pains. My arms could not embrace all the little ones who lost their parents. I couldn’t attempt to give an explanation for such evil acts.

The memorial mass offered by our parish helped tremendously. God was always the weight underneath my boat that kept it from capsizing in the stormy ocean of life. If anything happened to me, I ran first to the altar. But the heavy heart remained with me. On Sunday, it was my turn to be Eucharistic minister. I cherished this privilege because as I handed out the body of Christ, I felt like I slipped Christ into each heart, each household. As usual, I performed my job hopefully and reverently, acknowledging each person and child who came to receive Christ.

I noticed that some people wore the red-white-blue ribbons, which reminded me of the tragedy. Perhaps some of these individuals lost their loved ones or knew someone who did, in the events of the past weeks. Their pains must be deeper, and because of that, I handed out the consecrated hosts with added earnest.

As I drove home after mass, tears suddenly streamed down my cheeks and I cried like a baby. It dawned on me that though helpless; I was allowed the privilege to bring Christ to those in need. Only He could do what I couldn’t do, be where I couldn’t be. Only He could console and heal. Only He could give strength and courage, be anywhere, all the time. Not only would He be there to console and to heal, but through my faith, He allowed me to be there with Him as well. When I received him, I received the whole human family into me. It was the same flesh and the same blood that flowed through my veins. It was the same body that we shared. Through Him, I would be one with my human family in their moments of darkness. He allowed me to be in His heart and He, in mine. So when He consoled the grief-stricken people, I would be there with Him, and as a result, I felt consoled. When He embraced the little ones, I, too, would be embraced. When He listened to their moans and cries, I too, would be listened and be understood.

Through the Eucharist, the Church taught that God gave me everything: His Divinity, His Body, His Blood, and especially, His Soul--the Soul of the Father who also lost His only Son. He was always in love with his Son. On the night of betrayal, the Father’s Soul was shattered to pieces. Through the abandonment of His Son, He shared with the human family the loneliness, the sorrow, the pain, and the loss in the face of evil. He understood my loss and shared my pain. But He had hope for me, not only for me but also for the nation and for the whole world, because His Son had won over darkness: "He had trampled death by death."

I continued to cry with the widows and the orphans, but in my heart, I knew now that God was there. He was always there to share with us the darkest moments of our human and personal history. His presence gave us hope, and His grace would lead us through.

04 St. Martin de Porres

09 The Dedication of the Lateran Basilica in Rome

10 St. Leo the Great

11 Veterans Day

12 St. Josaphat

13 St. Frances Xavier Cabrini

15 St. Albert the Great

17 St. Margaret of Scotland & St. Gertrude the Great

17 St. Elizabeth of Hungary

21 The Presentation of the Blessed Virgin Mary

24 St. Andrew Dung-Lac & his companions

25 Christ the King

30 St. Andrew