By Msgr. Noel C. Burtenshaw

When my mother died four weeks ago and I found myself writing a prayer for her memorial card, I just knew the word courage had to be in it. It was a very big part of her. Bad health threatened her unmercifully forty year ago. It would have been almost easier to quit, but courage came along and she used its keen edge to pick up the pieces and make life work. That’s exactly what she did. And having found that courage worked, she continued to use it all her life.

Three years ago, it took courage to leave her little world in the old country and come to the new world. People, on both sides of the Atlantic, asked her constantly, “Wasn’t it risky at your age to make that change?” Always her reply was, “Yes, but I knew it would turn out for the best and it did.” But there’s a memory of courage that she left me that does not involve physical endurance. Her faith was always simply courageous. When renewal brought thorough change to our old ways of worship, I felt a let-down -- even disappointment -- would be her reaction. Not so. Up rose her faith courageously and eyes that had watched in invisible wonder for a lifetime continued to see, brightly, vigorously, young again.

As her feebleness grew and even weekly liturgies became impossible, the priority of her courageous faith remained firm. Her rosary was an old friend and a constant companion never to be allowed to drift beyond arm’s reach. But it was placed second to any sacrament, especially the Eucharist. It mattered little to her WHO, cleric or lay, would carry the sacrament to her. The only question was WHEN could the sacrament be brought. Without thoughts of discrimination, the bearer was welcomed for the sake of the Sacrament.

Courage was a surrounding theme in the final hours of Jesus’ life. He did not relish the chalice of suffering, but “Thy will be done.” His climb to the top of the hill was one courageous step after another. Feeling deserted, alone, he toppled headlong into the death of the Cross. From the first instant to the last drop of blood, courage came into play.

The call to be courageous comes in many forms, to all kinds of people. When answered firmly with simple faith it brings unspeakable vistas, unimaginable rewards. In my mother it brought day-to-day manageability and divine vision to a handicapped life.

In the life and death of Jesus it brought Resurrection. For Him. For the world.