In the late 1960s, I was growing up in a suburb near Los Angeles. Our neighborhood was much like any other, with kids riding bikes and playing ball in the street each evening. Of all my memories of those childhood playmates, there is one child who still stands out in my mind.
She was a big girl with a broad face and a wide grin. She was four years my senior, but she ran awkwardly, spoke hesitantly and looked much too old to be riding a tricycle. There were many things the rest of the neighborhood clan would do that she never took part in: She never climbed a tree, she could never hit a baseball, and she never attended school.
And she never fought back when the other kids made fun or her or called her cruel names like "retard." That was 40 years ago, and I don't remember her name but I will never forget her face, for she was the first mentally challenged person I had ever met.
As an eight-year-old child, I knew it was wrong for the neighborhood kids to make fun of her and laugh at her expense. I thought the other kids to be cruel and it made me feel sad to watch them. But even though I felt this way and I never joined in with their taunting, one fact remains: I never did anything to try to stop them.
At the beginning of Mass we pray, "I confess to Almighty God that I have sinned, in my thoughts and in my words, in what I have done, and in what I have failed to do…." What we fail to do can make us just as guilty as what we actually do. A sin is a wrong choice, and to decide not to do something right is just as much of a choice as to decide to do something wrong.
As a teacher in a Catholic school, I spend the days leading up to Ash Wednesday preparing the children for Lent and the sacrifices they choose to make for the next 40 days. Most elementary students generally focus on what they can give up --- drinking soda and eating candy are usually at the top of their lists. A few children say they will give up foods like broccoli (a truly noble sacrifice, I am sure). Even as an adult, it seems the focus is on what we will "give up."
As Lent begins this year, I find my mind wandering back to my childhood and to the neighborhood where I grew up and wondering if it would have made a difference if I had only done that which I failed to do.
Do we take time to talk with those who are lonely and in need of a friend? Or do we spend time only with those who are "fun" to be around?
Do we go out of our way to welcome a new face in church --- a person who perhaps is trying to reconcile years away from the Church? Or do we only speak to those we are comfortable with?
Do we take the time to read and talk and play with our children? Or are we always too busy?
Do we stand up in support of the young mother from church who is ridiculed by others when she becomes pregnant with her eighth child? Or do we stand by while others say, "I can't believe she is pregnant again!"
Do we speak out and let ourselves be heard against acts like FOCA? Or do we walk past the petitions and postcard campaign in a hurry to get home?
Do we spend some of our free time in prayer for those who need it? Do we ever take the time to simply visit the Church and let Jesus know how grateful we are to Him for our salvation? Or do we spend our free time in front of the TV or online, aimlessly clicking through channels and websites?
Choosing to do wrong can take you far away from the grace of God.
Choosing to do right will not only bring you closer to Him, it will bring others closer to Him, too. That is the gift I would like to give my Lord this Easter. Therese Corsaro teaches at St. Mary School, Palmdale.
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