Since my elderly mother suffers from bad mobility problems, she often leans on me to walk...especially if we're out in public. After one recent Mass, a parishioner was so moved by such a display she came up to me later on and said, “You'll be rewarded in heaven.” I politely thanked this person for her remark but in reality, I resented it for two reasons.
Firstly, it reflects a certain hands-off approach to pastoral care that I've encountered many times as a Catholic single. While I'm sure her remark was well-intentioned, it did absolutely nothing to help my current situation which by-the-way feels very dire. My mother's health continues to spiral downward and between caregiving and working a dead-end job, I'm starting to think all the things I really want out of life will never come to pass. My reaction to the phrase “You'll be rewarded in heaven” reminds me of how some military veterans resent it when civilians say, “Thank you for your service.” In both cases, it's a quick and convenient “out” that lacks true understanding of a person's burdens.
The parishioner's comment also implies defeat when it comes to the things you are struggling for. I've seen this in the way priests who once pledged prayers for my mother to get better now say nothing about her chronic pain but declare, “She's going straight to heaven for her suffering.” When people can clearly see that I'm sacrificing so much as a caregiver, they should be asking me how I feel but instead “You'll be rewarded in heaven” allows them to keep a good distance and not get involved.
Secondly, the remark places your very real struggles on a lower rung that's not too serious. Catholics can get so caught up in the belief the things of this world aren't as important as what awaits you in heaven that it becomes fatalistic. A middle-aged woman on the CatholicMatch forums shared her opinion that all of us singles who steadfastly held onto the Church's values but would never get married or have kids were “white martyrs.” After looking up the meaning of that term, I thought to myself, “How depressing.”
For a Church that promotes a culture of life, the Catholic faith can be downright morbid. During one sermon at St. Mary's in Beverly, our young pastor, Fr. Barnes, talked about how great it was that Christian martyrs in Japan died with expressions of joy on their faces because they knew they'd be entering the Kingdom of Heaven. Over the years, I've heard many sermons on the sick and dying who viewed their suffering in a positive light. One terminally ill man even said he was happy because he was going to meet Jesus soon. Pope Francis once scolded Catholics who had long faces at Mass but with sermons like these, having a long face is difficult to avoid.
A few years ago, a friend who knew I was a virgin passed along the story of St. Maria Goretti thinking it would make me feel better. It did not. While it's true no one is guaranteed success in life, when people's lives are cut short before they have the chance to fulfill their goals, it's usually seen as a tremendous loss not only for that person and their loved ones but for the world in general. “You'll be rewarded in heaven” puts a nice bow on a terrible situation and tries to make sense of the senseless. I think this can be a somewhat insensitive perspective given that we have no proof such a sacrifice even matters in the grand scheme of things. I highly doubt there are many sex-offenders walking around today who would be forgiven and turn their lives around so drastically as Maria Goretti's killer.
On CatholicMatch, I once traded messages with a woman who I did not want to date and she wondered if she was alone today because the unknown man she was meant to marry died before they had a chance to meet. It was a sad sentiment but I admitted to having those same thoughts. In fact, thoughts of death are not far from my mind and at times I wonder if I'm alone because God has an early demise planned for me. Perhaps my singleness is a way of sparing a potential wife and kids a terrible loss. Such thoughts are not very life-affirming, are they?
I
will never forget when Fr. Hughes, the onetime pastor of St. Mary's
discussed in a sermon how important it was to take up your cross
adding that there was nothing sadder than a docked boat with sails
never to be unfurled. Rather than seeing the value of my sacrifice, I
wonder what it was all for. Have I failed to take up my cross or is
this all part of God's plan? One thing is for sure, the best years
of my life for falling in love and raising a family have passed me
by. Fellow Catholics need to better understand my deep sense of
helplessness instead of trivializing it.