by Orlando Hernandez

     This Lent I have been asking myself, “What is the essence of this life in Jesus that I seek and often eludes me?” In the second reading (Phil 3:8-14) for the 5th Sunday of Lent, St. Paul writes about his pursuit of holiness that leads to eternal life with Jesus. Paul acknowledges his lack of “righteousness of my own.” It is God’s gift of faith that gives him hope and strength to go on:

     “That which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God, depending on faith to know Him and the power of His resurrection and the sharing of His sufferings by being conformed to His death, if somehow I may attain the resurrection from the dead. It is not that I have already taken hold of it or have already attained perfect maturity, but I continue my pursuit in hope that I may possess it, since I have indeed been taken possession of by Christ Jesus. Brothers and Sisters, I for my part do not consider myself  to have taken possession. Just one thing: forgetting what lies behind but straining forward to what lies ahead, I continue my pursuit toward the goal, the prize of God’s upward calling, in Christ Jesus.”

    This great saint was still “straining forward,” like all of us! In paragraph 7 of his Apostolic Exhortation “Gaudete et Exsultate” , Pope Francis writes:           “I like to contemplate the holiness present in the patience of God’s people: in those parents who raise their children with immense love, in those men and women who work hard to support their families, in the sick, in elderly religious who never lose their smile. In their daily perseverance I see the holiness of the Church militant. Very often it is a holiness found in our next-door neighbors, those who, living in our midsts, reflect God’s presence. We might call them ‘the middle class of holiness.’ Let us be spurred on by the signs of holiness that the Lord shows us through the humblest members of that people which shares also in Christ’s prophetic office, spreading abroad a living witness to Him, especially by means of a life of faith and charity.”

     Since I met her 9 years ago, I have always thought of Marie Claude Menuau,TOC, as one of those “saints next door”, an incredibly powerful example of what it means to live in God. Every time I would go to the eleven o’clock Mass at the Passionist Monastery in Jamaica, New York she was always there. She would have everything ready for the celebration of this public Mass. She would even help the priests with their vestments. As I would sit there, I would see her kneel before the Tabernacle after making sure there were enough Consecrated Hosts. She would do this with such reverence and devotion that I was truly touched.

I just knew that I was in the presence of someone especially close to God. Just by her quiet example she inspired me in those early days when I was re-discovering my faith. She would graciously let me do the readings for the Mass, when I asked, and whenever there was no-one else, she would also do this job, speaking in a clear, reverent manner, singing the psalms for us. She would even do the Holy Wash at home (the washing and ironing of the cloths used during Mass) every week.   

 Marie Claude was so totally focused on her ministry and her prayer before and after Mass that we never got a chance to talk. Even though I hardly knew her, when I went to the Holy Land in 2011, I found myself getting her a cross at one of the shops. She accepted it, quietly smiling, with such humble dignity.     About a year ago, she stopped coming to the eleven o’clock Mass most days. Other folks were taking over for her. I wasn’t sure, but did I see a look of pain in her face every time she came to do her job? Was she quietly carrying a very painful cross? She told my wife, Berta, that she could no longer do this job. My wife thought it had to do with the Holy Wash, but after this we never saw her again. A friend of hers told us she was very sick and went to a nursing home in Long Island, near her family. I missed her always at the eleven o’clock Mass, but life went on.

Why didn’t I get to know her better? I began to forget about her until the end of this March, when we found out that she had passed away. It seems so true, what the Bible says abut our being like chaff in the wind. We disappear from each other’s lives so quickly and completely. I have kept her all these weeks in my thoughts and prayers. I found myself daring to ask her for her intercession in Heaven, for I am sure she is a saint in God’s arms.      

I realize now that I was not the only one who had great admiration for this quiet woman of God. On April 5, a luminous Mass was celebrated in her name at Immaculate Conception Church, in Jamaica, Queens. Five priests that she had worked with were there. A large group of Lay Carmelites came to represent her, a beloved member of the order. Her fellow friends at the Legion of Mary  were there. A large number of lovely relatives were present to honor her and to participate in the Liturgy of the Word. But there were so many fellow parishioners at the service, who, like me, were drawn to the light of her memory.    

 Her niece spoke eloquently about her life. Marie Claude had been a teacher and school principal in her country of Haiti, and a librarian in New York City until she retired. She then dedicated her time to God, participating at her parish in so many ways, and bringing communion to home-bound folks and in nursing homes.   

 What a mystery each human being is. What a marvel, miracle. We are as “nothing”, like St. Paul of the Cross says, and yet, some of us are so possessed by Jesus that we cannot help but keep our eyes on that “goal, the prize of God’s upward calling, in Christ Jesus.” Some people, agents of God, help light the way for us. Thank you so much, Marie Claude Menuau. Please pray for us! 
Orlando Hernandez