January 18: Blessed Christina Ciccarelli

So I have jury duty tomorrow possibly, and I'm not happy.  I just called the jury hot line on the off-chance that the case may have already been settled.  Of course, I was told to call back after 3 p.m..  It's not that I'm against the judicial process or that I think every person doesn't have the right to a fair and impartial trial.  It's just that I don't want to be a cast member of 12 Angry Men for a day of my life.  I have work to do, classes to teach, books to read, blogs to post.  It's terribly inconvenient to have to worry about the guilt or innocence of a person.

It used to be that, when you got called for jury duty, it was, at most, a one-day commitment.  Imagine my dismay when I opened my letter from the court and found out that I had jury duty for the entire month of January.  It was like receiving notice that I had to show up for seven rectal exams over the next 30 days.  I'm sure I'm not the only person who's ever felt this way.  In fact, I'd lay money that most people who receive jury duty notices immediately start contracting serious illnesses; scheduling prolonged, out-of-country travel plans; or engaging in sexual activity in hopes of becoming nine-months pregnant before the trial dates.

But, here I am, waiting to call to find out if tomorrow morning I will be in a courtroom, feeling like an extra in Law & Order:  SVU.  It's in God's hands now.  Of course, the last time I left jury duty in God's hands, I ended up sitting for 11 hours in a jury box, listening to a woman complain about how dissatisfied she was with the contractor she hired to renovate her living room.  The doughnuts in the jury room were stale, and the pizza we got for dinner that night had green peppers on it.  It was an all 'round lose-lose day.

I know I should accept this situation with humility, maybe even a little pride.  After all, it's supposed to be an honor to be involved in the great experiment that is the American judicial system.  My bitching is just evidence of control issues I may harbor.  I don't like not being the captain of my own ship for any reason, even if it means a person wrongly accused of murder gets the electric chair.  God, however, always throws curve balls my way.  Sick kids.  Uncontrollable diarrhea.  Freak snowstorms.  Jury duty.  My job is to be like Christina Ciccarelli, a 15th century nun who had the whole humble Jesus thing down cold.

This woman, according to my books, had "great piety, complete obedience, and deep humility."  I'm OK sometimes on the piety part, but I frequently miss the mark on obedience and humility, as evidenced by my reaction to my jury duty letter.  Christina was so good at all three, though, that she could obtain healing miracles through prayer.  She also experienced miraculous visions that had her levitating, receiving stigmatic wounds, and, on the whole, resembling an actor in a Cecil B. Demille flick.

So, if I call at 3 p.m. today and am informed that I have to be at the courthouse in the morning, I will show up tomorrow in full Henry Fonda mode, ready to perform my civic responsibility and set an innocent person free, if called on to do so.  I'll try to keep Christina Ciccarelli in mind.  I'll try to be humble, obedient, and pious.

After all, nobody's going to believe I'm nine-month's pregnant.