Wholly Holy

/ Denis Wilhelm / Leave a comment

How often have I rejected the idea of holiness? How often have I considered myself less than “the faithful” who seem to pray constantly? Those blessed folks who attend mass regularly (even daily); who adorn their homes with sacred objects; who never cuss; who know all the rules (and follow them).

Does their piety annoy me or shame me? Perhaps both.

In 2023, Pope Francis wrote “To be holy does not require being a bishop, a priest or a religious. We are frequently tempted to think that holiness is only for those who can withdraw from ordinary affairs to spend much time in prayer. That is not the case. We are all called to be holy by living our lives with love and by bearing witness in everything we do, wherever we find ourselves.”

Being holy needn’t mean you lose yourself. Instead, I believe it means that you should be your authentic self (warts and all). I can bear witness. I can choose to love. I can do that even when I feel shitty or disgusted. I can pray even when I feel hopeless and lost. Perhaps that’s when my prayers are most sincere. I know that I am not alone. My prayers for the people that I love bring me peace and comfort in knowing that God is watching over them. My prayers for people that I don’t know helps me feel connected to them and gives me strength and hope for a better future for all God’s children. I am also humbled in the knowledge that others are praying for me.

At times I feel overwhelmed with life. At times I only see the evil and violence in our world. But then I feel the love and holiness of others. The natural, messy, unscripted holiness that surrounds me every day. I am enveloped in that love. And I am saved.

God didn’t create me to hate me. I know that I can never be a pious, super-holy, choirboy. It’s just not me. I might not kneel as often as I should, but thanks to the saints in my midst, I am wholly holy.

Peace,

Denis

He saved us and called us to a holy life, not according to our works but according to his own design and the grace bestowed on us in Christ Jesus before time began. 2 Timothy 1:9

Giving Up for Lent

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Recently I read, “This Lent I’m just going to give up.” It was written tongue in cheek and intended to be humorous, but it struck a different chord in me.

Some Catholics feel tremendous pressure to “give up” something to honor Jesus’ ultimate sacrifice. Or to “do something” honorable or charitable or extra-holy. It doesn’t do me much good to have ashes smeared on my forehead and then turn a blind eye to the mistreatment and suffering of so many in our nation.

Most of us needn’t go back more than a few generations to find ancestors who immigrated to the United States. In my own family we are descendants of fur traders who journeyed from France to Canada and ultimately to the Midwest around the time of the Revolutionary War, as well as Germans seeking political refuge in the 19th century. Some came seeking fortune and wealth. Some were fleeing poverty, political injustice, or religious persecution.

In November 2000 the U.S. Catholic bishops published “Welcoming the Stranger Among Us: Unity in Diversity”.  The document states, “The presence of so many people of so many different cultures and religions in so many different parts of the United States has challenged us as a Church to a profound conversion so that we can become truly a sacrament of unity. We reject the anti-immigrant stance that has become popular in different parts of our country, and the nativism, ethnocentricity, and racism that continue to reassert themselves in our communities.”

That was over 25 years ago and still many in my parish community consider immigrants as dangerous and undeserving and unwanted. Seldom, if ever, does any message come from the pulpit in regard to welcoming the stranger among us. Rarely is there any acknowledgment of the brutal treatment by our government of immigrants and our responsibility as Catholic Christians to open our hearts and minds to our sisters and brothers. Our clergy often preach that we should be pro-life but usually that seems to only mean pro-birth. Welcoming those fleeing for their very lives is apparently too messy to deal with, let alone to preach about. Our congressman, a Roman Catholic, has built his career on hateful misogynic rhetoric and our local Church leaders remain silent.

Fortunately, I have great friends and spiritual advisers who understand that God’s love for us is indeed for ALL OF US. They are examples of unconditional love. They are models of true Christianity. I find hope and strength in their presence. Their actions speak louder than words. And their songs fill my heart.

Often the work of true Christians is done quietly; humbly, with little fanfare. We can continue to pray, but it’s time to make some noise. We need to put our words into action. We need to care for the poor and welcome strangers. We need to put those in power on notice. We need to comfort those wounded by their draconian policies. We must remember that all life is precious.

Speaking up and speaking out might be risky and more of a sacrifice than giving up chocolate or alcohol or saying extra prayers this Lenten Season, but I refuse to give up, and I refuse to be silent.

Peace,

Denis

Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or ill or in prison, and not minister to your needs? Matthew 25:44

These Things Are True

/ Denis Wilhelm / 1 Comment

In his book Are You Good Enough Yet? Father Joe Kempf writes, “You deserve to know that you are safe, you are loved, your life matters, and you are good enough just as you are. Because these things are true.”

I’m a natural born worrier. I worry about my friends who are battling illness or struggling with grief. I worry about my son (who I believe requires constant worry). I worry about our community, our nation, our world. I worry about my grandchildren; those precious souls who I’m certain will face disappointment or heartache or worse. I worry that others don’t worry enough. And my greatest fear is that I’m not a good enough worrier to deal with any of this.

My Mom used to say, “You can worry about 10 things and 9 of them will never happen and the one that does won’t be as bad as you think”. That was rich, coming from the woman who instilled fear and worry in me. In my mind I would often reply, “Unless of course it happens to you, Mom!”

So, I’ve become a “stoic” worrier. A “closet” worrier. A “put on a brave face” worrier. “Smile through the pain” worrier. “Stiff upper lip” worrier. “Hide your crazy” worrier. “Just get on with it” worrier. “No one needs to know” (and probably doesn’t care) worrier.

But what am I afraid of? I’m pretty sure that I’m mostly afraid of losing control. Which is amusing because I have never truly been in control of anything (including myself most days). Plans have been made and derailed in an instant. Dreams have been dashed. Batteries have died. Plumbing has failed. Power has gone out. Promotions have been denied. Jobs have been lost. Savings have been depleted.

In the arms of some of my Angels

Through it all, I’ve never been abandoned. I’ve never been alone. God has never left my side. And in my darkest hours God has sent his angels. My wife. My children. My grandchildren. My siblings. My friends. What a gift knowing that they are with me on this journey. Sometimes it only takes hearing a loved one’s voice to put my mind at ease. I am not alone.

I had a dear uncle whose prayer was that he would live one day longer than his spouse so that he could take care of her until the end. I share that prayer. It sounds virtuous but it’s really a little bit selfish because I can’t bear the thought of life without my wife. Uncle Ted didn’t meet that goal, as he died a few months before his beloved Sha. But you know what? She was taken care of until the end. He set an amazing example for all of us to follow. She was never alone. Things (even stuff that didn’t matter that much) were taken care of. And she passed peacefully and I believe she was welcomed home into Ted’s loving arms.

So perhaps my prayer should be, “Dear God, please make sure that Debbie is not alone and that someone takes the trash out, mows the lawn and cleans the gutters“. It’s not poetic but it gets to the point. One less thing to worry about…

Thanks, Father Joe for reminding me that I am safe. I am loved. My life matters. And I am good enough. These things are true. And I need to let go of my fear and stop worrying. God, please keep sending your angels.

Peace,

Denis

Carrying On

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Like me, do you ever find yourself in a spiritual desert? Those times when my prayers seem empty and perfunctory, it feels as if I’m just going through the motions. Maybe I am. So, I pray: God, please help me!

I feel overwhelmed by the ugliness of our world. Lately before I turn on the television or my computer or look at my phone, I hold my breath and wonder what now? What has our government inflicted upon the most vulnerable? Who has been attacked or murdered? What hate in God’s name is being celebrated? At times some of the buffoonery of our elected officials is laughable but mostly it’s just frightening.

I have dear friends who are battling serious health issues and others who are dealing with the loss of a loved one. So much to pray for and seemingly so little prayer left in me. A wise person once told me that tears are a form of prayer. Sometimes tears are all I have to offer.

Lately my desert experiences have been coming along more frequently and lasting much longer. Too many times, I approach the altar angry or hurt and I can’t (or won’t) let go of my outrage. Too often I have judged others as hypocrites. I find it increasingly difficult to forgive and yet I expect complete forgiveness for my own shortcomings.

During those times, I attend Mass and sing and pray along and listen to The Word, but I might as well be driving through the Automatic Car Wash. My experience is completely passive, and it barely registers on my psyche. It almost feels as if I’m watching someone else – it’s not worship; it’s not prayer; it’s just sort of dutiful religious regurgitation.

But maybe just BEING THERE is enough. Maybe just being in the presence of others who are truly engaged spiritually has its own grace. Being part of a community of believers means that sometimes we carry one another along on the journey. The prayers and singing of the “inspired ones” can lift me up before God when I can barely pull myself into the pew.

So, I trudge along; hoping that maybe just by being at Mass and participating, however vacuous, I might find some grace and be touched by the Holy Spirit. Witnessing others’ worship, during these empty times, I wonder why I can’t feel God’s presence as they do. When my spirituality feels particularly bankrupt, I find comfort in just seeing friendly faces in church and greeting them with a smile or kind word. That simple act brings me a measure of peace (God’s peace?).

Some days my prayer is just this: God, please help me! 

And angels come to lift me up and carry me on.

Peace,

Denis

There are many things that can only be seen through eyes that have cried – Saint Oscar Romero

She Colors My World

/ Denis Wilhelm / 1 Comment

My wife Debbie and I got married when we were young, and had no idea of what might lie ahead. We were a couple of small-town kids in love and that seemed like enough to get us through. Lots of people felt obliged to tell us that it would never work out and that we were making a big mistake. I smile to myself when I remember the naysayers. Of course, it hasn’t always been easy, but true love never is. Our marriage has survived and thrived. We have had grand adventures beyond our imaginations, and quiet moments that are heartbreaking in their simplicity and remarkable beauty. We have faith in one another and in a God who has carried us through it all.

It has been the honor and delight of my life to be hand in hand with this amazing woman for over 50 years. Deb makes up for all of my shortcomings. She reminds me to slow down and savor the important things in life. She models tolerance (I’ve given her many opportunities) and compassion (she loves unconditionally and I have been the fortunate recipient of that grace). I’m color-blind, so she not only makes sure that my clothes match, but she also fills every part of my world with brilliant, vivid color. She has this incredible gift of making you feel that when she’s with you, no one else is more important or more needed at that moment than you. You have her undivided attention. She gives herself entirely. Just ask her children, grandchildren, and countless friends.

And as for me, well when she walks into the room it’s like everyone else fades into the background. All the light in the space seems to be emanating from her. She just gets to me. She makes me want to be a better man and someone who is deserving of this love we share.

Today is our 51st wedding anniversary. We’ve beaten the odds, been blessed beyond our dreams, and every day she fills my world with color that only a color-blind man can see.

Peace,

Denis

The Weary World Rejoices

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I awoke this morning recalling a time several years ago right before Christmas with my baby grandson. Apparently, everyone else had last minute things to attend to, and Noah and I were left at home alone. I held him in my arms, and he drifted off to sleep. My heart still swells with joy as I remember those precious moments. Feeling his tiny heartbeat against my own, hearing his gentle breathing, and smelling his baby sweetness, I was humbled by his presence in my life. I wanted to stay wrapped up in that moment forever. As I was embracing Noah, God was embracing me.

While we welcome Baby Jesus with triumphant hymns and celebrations, somewhere a mother is mourning the loss of her own child. Disease, poverty, racism and injustice ravage our society. Christmas itself won’t end hunger, or war, or poverty, or terrorism, or racism, or homophobia or violence, or human trafficking, or all other injustices. Millions will go to bed hungry tonight. Millions more will have no place to lay their head. Others will be at war or surrounded by violence. Others are imprisoned by drug addiction, domestic abuse, neglect or alcoholism.

Still, Jesus comes amidst our joy and sorrow, our triumphs and disappointments. He comes to be with us. He will embrace our joy and our pain.

Christmas comes with the hope of renewal. Christmas raises our expectations of peace and goodwill. If we believe in God and take an active role in His plan, we can bring peace to our world. We can take a stand; perform an act of kindness; make a small sacrifice for another. We can share a smile; speak a kind word; give a gentle touch. I believe that kindness, multiplied by millions as we proclaim our Christmas joy, can transform our world. Ram Dass is credited with saying, “When all is said and done, we are all just walking each other home.”

My wish is that you all can recall some “Baby Noah moment” in your life and be sustained by the comfort that God is with you while you are walking one another home.

Peace,

Denis

All Is Calm

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In December of 1973, while in college, I was working part-time at a Venture Store. Venture was a big box discount store. As you can imagine, during the weeks before Christmas the store was always busy, and customers were increasingly demanding. Folks were scrambling to grab the latest gadget or toy and at times the scene at Venture could best be described as frenzied. When customers discovered that the “Specially Advertised” merchandise was sold-out, they could turn downright nasty.

It was in this cacophony of ringing cash registers, blue light specials, and loud-speaker announcements that I discovered her. There she was with tears streaming down her face. It was the girl from the Health and Beauty Aids Department. I didn’t know her well, but she was cute and always friendly, and no one deserved to be that upset. I was certain that some jerk-ass customer had yelled at her and I was ready to hunt them down and give them a piece of my mind. After all, who needed this lousy job?

When I approached her and asked, “What’s the matter?” She said, “Don’t you hear it?” Puzzled, I asked, “Hear what?” “Listen!”, she said. And I did. Ever so faintly amidst the noise of weary shoppers, screaming kids, and the umpteenth Public Address Announcement, I heard the strains of the Muzak version of “Silent Night”. Before I could ask her why on earth that would make her cry, she told me that she loved the song and it touched her heart and that Christmas was her favorite time of year. She assured me that her tears were really tears of joy. Her tenderness, her serenity and her beauty filled that space.  

I was speechless. And right there in that busy, crowded, awful discount store she brought Christmas to me. She gave me peace. She brought me to Bethlehem. And for the first time, I truly understood that I have a Savior.

I will never forget that night or that girl or that beautiful moment.

Be watchful! Be alert! You do not know when the time will come. Mark 13:33

Peace,

Denis

P.S. That was over 50 years ago and lucky me married that beautiful girl from Venture’s Health and Beauty Aids Department. Our children and grandchildren can attest to the fact that she stills cries whenever she hears Silent Night.

All is calm; all is bright!

Finding Joy

/ Denis Wilhelm / 1 Comment

Today our Church celebrates the third Sunday of Advent also known as “Gaudete Sunday.” Gaudete means “rejoice” in Latin. This joyful spirit is marked by the third candle of our Advent wreath, which is rose or pink. Lighting the pink candle is a time for rejoicing. We rejoice in our anticipation of Christ’s coming as an infant over 2,000 years ago in Bethlehem.

Today’s Gospel speaks of John the Baptist. Did John (that crazy, animal skin wearing, locust eating, hermit) think he was the only one who knew what was coming? Afterall, he leapt for joy in his mother’s womb on hearing of the coming of Christ.

I like to imagine that John was stoic. He had fortitude – that thing of mighty men. Muscle and endurance; toughness and resiliency; never-ending and never-failing. But was he just skulking around in the desert because he was disgusted with the callous disregard of others? Do I sometimes find myself lost in a spiritual desert or do I choose to be there to distance myself from others? Are my apathy and cynicism just convenient means of avoidance? “I don’t know and I don’t care” avoids the messy and bothersome involvement with humanity.

I find myself searching for joy in the desert. Looking for a glimmer of hope. Praying for peace.

As I prepare for coming of the infant Jesus at Christmas, John the Baptist reminds me that there is something else coming. I must prepare for the change that Jesus creates; in our world; in our church; in myself. I need Jesus here and now to give me balance. I need His loving example to help me deal with the tragedies in my life. Sometimes it’s hard to find joy in our world. I need Jesus’ wisdom to find the good in all His creation. I need to learn how to disagree without being disagreeable. I need His patience during this holiday season to be truly present, especially when something doesn’t go as planned. I need Jesus’ forgiveness for all the times that I fail to be loving and patient.

So, today I’m filled with joyful anticipation. Because very soon He will come. He comes with love. He comes with wisdom. He comes with patience. He offers me understanding and forgiveness.

I’m reminded that a single flame can illuminate the darkness. So, I’ll light my pink candle and welcome Him home.

Peace,

Denis

Behold, I am sending my messenger ahead of you; he will prepare your way before you.
Amen, I say to you, among those born of women there has been none greater than John the Baptist;
yet the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he. Matthew 11:10-11

Mary Knew Her Strength

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Author Joelle Chase writes, “Mary is an archetype of the feminine in all of us—man or woman—sometimes hidden or subverted, but always present and available, inviting us to embrace what appears small, unimportant, embarrassing, weak. She knew her strength, the miracle of her body that would knit Life out of God’s seed.” 

That’s a powerful statement and it runs counter to the image of a helpless, hapless, teenage Mary who is poor, afraid, pregnant, unwed and uncertain. Mary said yes. Not because the angel told her that she should, but because she knew her own strength, her potential and her power.

Mothers are powerful! Ask any woman who has cared for a sick child; wept for the loss of life; fought for her child’s acceptance; guarded her offspring without flinching; celebrated joy and comforted heartache; loved unconditionally. All while saying “yes”.

Ask any man who loves a woman and he will tell you that mothers are powerful. When men can’t – women do. When fathers fail and flail; mothers take charge. No one loves like a mother; fights like a mother for what is right; dreams beyond her own capabilities like a mother. All while saying “yes”.

God could have come to earth on cloud or from a lighting bolt. Jesus could have appeared “poof” out of nowhere. But instead he was born to a woman as an infant. God chose to be loved by a mother. Jesus shared in the joy of being truly human; of being cradled in a mother’s arms; to know her strength and her tenderness.

We can all learn from Mary’s “yes”. Women and men alike. Yes to truth. Yes to courage. Yes to strength. Yes to gentleness. Yes to peace. Yes to love. Yes to life. Yes to God.

Peace,

Denis

“Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord. May it be done to me according to your word.” Luke 1:38

Quiet and Slow?

/ Denis Wilhelm / 1 Comment

Last Sunday our Associate Pastor gave us two words to reflect on: quiet and slow. On that first Sunday of Advent, he suggested that we approach this Christmas Season quietly and slowly. Considering the usual hustle and bustle of this time of year that is a challenge for many of us. For me it seems nearly impossible.

Let me explain.

I’m loud. Really loud. I was born the third son in a family of four siblings. In our house you didn’t wait for your turn to speak, you just spoke louder than your brothers. My sister is the youngest and she’s pretty loud, too. Our father was loud (even when he thought he was being quiet). My wife reminds me all the time that I don’t know how to whisper. And I know that I speak over other people. I try to suppress this tendency but most times I fail. So apparently, I’ve inherited my dad’s inability to be quiet.

I’m fast. My mother was fast. In fact, her entire family moved at a rapid pace, and I’ve inherited that trait, too. Why spend your whole life just moseying along? I’m often restless and find no pleasure in ‘taking my time’ to do anything. We have stuff that needs to get done! My dad used to joke that “Rome wasn’t built in a day, because no one in your mother’s family was on the job site”. Of course, he told that joke loudly.

I know that Advent is counter cultural. It should be a time of quiet reflection. There’s plenty of time to wrap the presents and trim the tree and raise a glass of cheer. I need some time for meditation and prayer. Time to quiet my soul and prepare the way for Christ’s coming into my life. But it goes against my very nature.

Quiet and slow. These attributes are not my strong suit. When I’m with a prayer group and we have ‘moments of silence’ and quiet reflection I begin to twitch. I can only hear the ringing in my ears. My mind jumps around to the various and assorted IMPORTANT THINGS that need to be done (quickly!). What was our focus? Something Jesus-y. When can we begin talking again? Oh Christ! I mean oh Christ, please help me!

Quiet and Slow. I like a challenge. But quiet and slow?

This Advent, when I get caught up in all my busyness, I will listen for God’s voice shouting for me. I imagine God, as my Mom, all those years ago when I was boy out playing with my friends, shouting for me to come home.

Wisdom shouts in the street,
She lifts her voice in the square;
At the head of the noisy streets she cries out;
At the entrance of the gates in the city she utters her sayings.  Proverbs 1:20-21

Come home! And then I can light my Advent wreath. One flame at a time.

Peace,

Denis