Humbled

/ Denis Wilhelm / Leave a comment

It might seem absurd, but I’ve always prayed that my children and grandchildren would have a humbling experience in their lives. Please understand, I don’t want them to have to deal with overwhelming pain or suffering or heartache, just a little “kick in the butt” that will help them remember that they are not invincible.

I think we all need to be reminded that we are not truly self-made, but we are the product of our genetics, our raising and our beliefs. Above all, we are treasured creations of God. Accepting that we can make mistakes (even big ones) and are forgiven is a blessing and a comfort. Understanding that we have people in our lives who will help pick us up and/or help us pick up the pieces should console us even in our darkest hours.

Confidence is a good thing. Intelligence is valuable and skill-mastery is crucial, but we should never forget that love is essential to our existence. When I think of the times (there have been many) that I have been humbled, I always remember the love that carried me through. Humility allowed me to accept the kindness and forgiveness of those I have disappointed. Of course, it has always been harder to forgive myself. Like most of us, I am still a work in progress. I’m learning to accept those setbacks, disappointments and mistakes, and to forgive myself. And I am humbled by God’s grace.

In his book “God’s Voice Within”, Mark Thibodeaux writes:

“I may have failed miserably at some task. I may be confused about where I am in life or angry about something that has happened. But if my anger motivates me to push for justice or truth, if my confusion leads me to trust in God more than myself, if my failure or sadness leads me to reach out to the people in my life then perhaps those negative experiences aren’t so negative after all.”

Perhaps we can find some joy in our mistakes. If being humbled allows me to reach out to the people in my life and accept their understanding, their help, their forgiveness, and their love, I am truly blessed. If my humility makes me more empathetic to others misfortune or opens my eyes to injustice and cruelty in our world, then perhaps I can be an instrument of healing and comfort.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not going out of my way to screw up. I can do that without even trying. But I can accept my failings and be humbled by the love of God through those who allow me to fail and still love me.

More importantly, I can be someone who accepts others’ failings and comforts them and loves them as they are humbled. So, go on and climb those mountains, take on this big world, and be the best that you can be. But if you are humbled, you should know that you are never alone.

Peace,

Denis

Is It Helpful?

/ Denis Wilhelm / 1 Comment

A good friend recently shared with me that when we speak, we should pause and ask our ourselves three simple questions:

Is it timely?

Is it honest?

Is it helpful?

I must admit, for me, the first two questions are no-brainers.

Is it timely? Deliver your message at the right moment, when it can have the most impact. And please, let’s only talk about things that are happening now or will be happening soon or what we wish could happen. Let’s not dwell on past mistakes, old grievances, and missed opportunities. Nothing good can come from those conversations. Drudging up the “coulda, shoulda, wouldas” only serves to sap us mentally, emotionally and spiritually. Makes sense.

Is it honest? Honesty builds trust. Before speaking, ask yourself if the information is true. Do your research. Fact-check. Consider the source. Misinformation or exaggeration can erode relationships and create confusion. Hearsay and conspiracy theories make you look foolish and shows lack of respect for the person with whom you are speaking. Don’t waste anyone’s time with nonsense, rumors and inuendo. Just know and tell the truth. Simple.

Is it helpful? This is the tricky part. Honestly, this is my biggest stumbling block. It might be helpful for me to get something off my chest or get my point across or make what matters to me the most important thing to say at any given moment. But that doesn’t consider the other person(s) experience or point of view. Still, it feels really good to be right. It serves my ego to be the “authority” on any given subject. I can bask in the glory of superiority and self-assuredness when I am the smartest and most informed person in the room. I can impart my wisdom, and the receivers should be grateful. And then God kicks me in the head and awakens me to a memory of a conversation that I had many years ago with our 7-year-old daughter. She was frustrated with her classmates who weren’t learning as quickly as she was, and the teacher would repeat lessons that our second grader had already mastered. She just couldn’t understand why the others couldn’t learn as fast as she did. I told her that it was okay to be the smartest person in the room, but it is unnecessary and unkind to remind everyone of that fact. Now, to be clear, I’m definitely not the smartest person in the room, only sometimes the loudest, most self-serving, opinionated, and arrogant. Not helpful.

Recently at the gym there was a young man wearing a black t-shirt with bold white letters stating, “I HATE SATAN”. I wanted to tell him that the message was confusing and counter intuitive. It seemed like an oxymoron. Jesus asks us to love everyone. That should include Satan. We needn’t follow Satan, but more hatred in our world seems like exactly the thing Satan is hoping to achieve. I decided that having a theological debate with this young man would not be helpful. So, maybe I’m learning. Also, I was wearing a t-shirt with the emblazoned message “Schnitzel Happens” so I suppose that I wouldn’t have been taken seriously anyway.

Then I laughed at my own foolishness. And that was helpful.

Peace,

Denis

Sweet Freedom

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I must admit that when I was in high school, I didn’t pay much attention to U.S. history. The Stamp Act, the Boston Tea Party, the Continental Congress, George Washington, the signing of the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution, seemed like so much, I don’t know, old stuff, history if you will.

I guess I missed the point. In my defense, I was much more interested in what was happening during the 1970’s. As soon as school was out, I could cruise around in my mom’s four-door 1968 Corvair. I would roll the windows down, drive a little too fast and pretend it was a Corvette. With the AM radio blasting, I could blow off the stink of all those history classes. It was sweet freedom!

Current events dominated the nightly news and my life. The raging war in Vietnam, civil rights and women’s rights were frequent topics of news coverage, magazine covers, and heated family discussions. We baby boomers were booming! We were beating the drums of freedom, liberty, social justice, equality and change. I didn’t want to learn about old times; I was ready for new times.

Freedom. Liberty. Equality. Justice. America.

I’m not sure if we changed the world or if the world changed us. But once again today, I am reminded that life is a never-ending classroom (if I pay attention). Here we are in the middle of an election year. Temperatures and tempers are rising. Conspiracy theories about rigged elections are exhausting. Public discourse is downright ugly, and the mudslinging has begun (does it ever stop?). Politicians and political action committees are vying for your money and your vote. Corruption appears blatant and unchecked. Our precious democracy seems endangered.

So, how do we set aside our differences and come together as a nation to celebrate the 250th anniversary of our independence?

For me, it’s back to the classroom. Reading and paying attention to our nation’s history this time. We didn’t magically become a nation when our founders signed the Declaration of Independence. We fought. We worked. We questioned. We reformed. And we continue to embrace necessary change.

But our Constitution remains steadfast. And as Americans we must defend it at all costs. Freedom of speech, freedom of and from religion, the right to peacefully assemble, and the right to petition government to redress grievances are the things that make our nation great.

Simple. Honest. Powerful. America.

So, this year, as it approaches, I will contemplate the significance of our Independence Day and what it means to be an American.

I’m a flag-waving, patriotic progressive who gets misty-eyed hearing the “Star Spangled Banner”. I am humbled when I see people in uniform quietly serving our country and defending our freedom. I stand in solitary with the marginalized, victimized and under-served in our nation. I protest policies, laws and lawmakers with whom I disagree. We are a big, messy, diverse, collection of individuals that somehow make this experiment called Democracy work.

Now that’s sweet freedom!

Peace,

Denis

Woody Guthrie, who had lived through the Dust Bowl and worked as a migrant laborer, was deeply aware of how land and wealth were unevenly distributed. This song sought to assert that the land belonged to all people, not just the wealthy.

Sweating the Small Stuff

/ Denis Wilhelm / 2 Comments

How many times in my life have I heard someone say, “Don’t sweat the small stuff?” Usually, it’s meant to comfort me when I’m feeling anxious about something that appears to be trivial to another. Or offered as an excuse or permission to fail to meet some expectation not shared by the person offering the solace. And there are scores of books written about not sweating the small stuff. You can purchase wall plaques, pendants, caps, key fobs, t-shirts, etc., all emblazoned with the phrase.

Little things

There seems to be a universal assumption that small things don’t matter. That unless something has monetary or political or social or intellectual significance, it is not worthy of our time. But I think that little things do matter. So, I will continue to sweat the small stuff.

After all, if the best things in life come in small packages then why not give them their proper attention and respect? The idiom, “The devil is in the details” implies that there is something hidden in the details; something that might seem simple at a first but will reveal itself to be more than expected.

I prefer the phrase “God is in the details”. The little things. Watching the moon rise on a starry night. Seeing storm clouds gather from the safety of your front porch. Taking a walk on a dewy morning. The sweet smell of a summer rain. That first cup of coffee in the morning. A favorite book. Resting under a shady tree. Hearing a child’s laughter. Receiving a friendly smile. Or a soft touch. Or a kind word. Letting a tear roll down your cheek. Simple things perhaps but hidden inside each of these is comfort, joy and love. And I believe God is there, too.

I’m sweating the small stuff. I will take the time to appreciate the details. I will hold the door for you. I will carry your load if you let me. I will set the table properly. I will use good penmanship. I will clean my house and mow my lawn. I will drive courteously. I will try to be a good citizen; a good neighbor; a good friend. I will say thank you and please and you’re welcome.

But more importantly I will say I love you. And I will say it again. And again. I want the gifts that I give to be wrapped literally and figuratively in all the beauty that I can muster. The gifts that I have to share may not be significant or of any financial value. In fact, in the grand scheme of things, my gifts are all just small stuff. But I will sweat them out. Anything less would have no meaning…

Peace,

Denis

Do to others whatever you would have them do to you. Matthew 7:12

Be A Light

/ Denis Wilhelm / Leave a comment

Yesterday was Pentecost and when I think of Pentecost, I usually think of the Apostles with little flames on top of their heads. But there is so much more going on. Granted, fire resting on the top of your head is certainly an attention-getter. God chose Pentecost to share the Holy Spirit with the Apostles and perhaps God needed the fire to get their attention. Regardless, it seems like God pulled out all the stops, and the fire thing was just the beginning.

God also allowed all the Apostles to speak and be understood in a multitude of languages to all who were assembled. Now that’s a showstopper! Sometimes I think I miss this part of the Gospel because I’m so focused on the flames.

When the time for Pentecost was fulfilled, they were all filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in different tongues, as the Spirit enabled them to proclaim. Now there were devout Jews from every nation under heaven staying in Jerusalem. At this sound, they gathered in a large crowd, but they were confused because each one heard them speaking in his own language. They were astounded, and in amazement they asked, “Are not all these people who are speaking Galileans? Then how does each of us hear them in his native language? We are Parthians, Medes, and Elamites, inhabitants of Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the districts of Libya near Cyrene, as well as travelers from Rome, both Jews and converts to Judaism, Cretans and Arabs, yet we hear them speaking in our own tongues of the mighty acts of God.” Acts 2:1-11

I find comfort in knowing the Apostles spoke to “the assembled” in their native languages. It reminds me again that diversity in our faith makes us stronger. At times I also find it challenging. We do not need to look the same or love the same or speak the same language or worship in the same manner. God has shared the Holy Spirit with each of us. And my duty is reach out to those unlike myself. God is asking me to afford dignity and respect to all those I encounter. It’s easy to love those folks who look and act like me, but true Christianity means offering peace and reconciliation to those who do not fit so neatly into my idea of a perfect world.

Theologians explain the Trinity as the profound love the parent (God) has for the child (Jesus) which then manifests itself as the Holy Spirit and becomes the third person of God. We were all children once and some of us have even been fortunate enough to be parents, so maternal/paternal love is something we all know. We can feel it but can’t easily put it into words. Sometimes that love is comforting; sometimes it is painfully absent; often it is heartbreakingly bittersweet; it is always overwhelming. We have all felt it and we all need it.

When I pray to the Holy Spirit, I am surrendering myself to God’s will. It can be frightening. It can create uncertainty. It requires trust. It forces me to let go. Like parenthood, it’s the scariest, best thing that I will ever know.

I could use a little fire, metaphorically speaking. I’m not saying I need a flame on the top of my head. But I could be a light.

Peace,

Denis

Did You Hear the Latest News?

/ Denis Wilhelm / 1 Comment

Each and every day there seems to be more and more troubling news. The senseless war in Iran. The skyrocketing gas prices. Cost of living and healthcare costs increasing dramatically. Cuts to environmental protection. Deportations. Redistricting plans. Supreme Court decisions. Political retributions. James Comey’s indictment. The White House Ballroom. The vitriol social media comments coming from the President. And his name and face being plastered on everything from our passports to our currency.

It is exhausting. And perplexing.

The political divides have never been greater in my lifetime. There is no longer public discourse. Just finger-pointing and name-calling. Fear mongering and villainization of our enemies is commonplace. Mostly there is hatred. And ugliness.

Oh, yes, and let’s not forget to pull God into it as well. Afterall, if God is with us who can be against? Some of the most hateful rhetoric comes complete with God’s “seal of approval”. Is God really on our side against the Iranians? Does God want us to “blow up the whole country” and destroy their civilization? Does God truly want children separated from their parents who are seeking a better, safer life to be imprisoned for a misstep in the immigration process? Does God want us to punish our perceived enemies or anyone who would disagree with us?

If you listen to many of our political leaders, it seems so. If I listen to some of my neighbors, it seems like God is on the side of racism, marginalization, hate and destruction. If I listen to some of the folks I worship with each week, it appears that as long as abortion remains mostly illegal, we can just rationalize all the rest of the shitty stuff.

In his book “God Plays a Purple Banjo”, S. James Meyer challenges me. He writes: “How do we measure up? If we profess our love for God without practicing love for neighbor, we might be religious but not always spiritual. If we receive Holy Communion in the church but don’t become Holy Communion in the world, we might be religious but not spiritual. If we pray for peace but harbor hatred, pray for forgiveness but judge others, or pray for the poor while profiting from systems that create or exploit poverty, we might be religious but not spiritual.”

Jesus never told us to hate our enemies. Jesus never told us hurt one another. Jesus never asked us to fight.

Instead, Jesus said: “Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy. Blessed are the clean of heart, for they will see God. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.“

Friends, how do we measure up?

Peace,

Denis

A Memorial and much more…

/ Denis Wilhelm / Leave a comment

Thirty-one years ago, today the unthinkable happened. At 9:01AM the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City was bombed by anti-government extremist Timothy McVeigh.

Recently we had the opportunity to visit the Oklahoma City National Memorial and Museum. 168 lives were lost in the senseless massacre on April 19, 1995. And many more lives were changed forever.

The Memorial and Museum has done an excellent job in telling the story of that day. With first-hand accounts of survivors and rescue workers and reporters, the day unfolds as a normal and beautiful spring morning. It’s chilling to walk through the exhibit and witness the devastation and heart-wrenching to listen to the painful stories of grief and loss of friends and family members of the victims.

So many images of heroic rescues and heart-breaking recoveries are displayed. Many of you will remember the iconic photo of a fire fighter cradling tiny Baylee Almon in his arms. When she was handed to him, she was still alive, but sadly she too succumbed to injuries. Chairs are placed on the grounds of the memorial for each of the victims where the Murrah Building once stood. Portions of the original structure outline the grounds of the memorial. Nearby you can see the steeple of Old St. Joseph’s Cathedral. A massive shallow pool, reflecting the clouds and the trees, adds solemn dignity to the space. Baylee Almon’s chair stands among the others as a reminder of her precious young life.

The memorial recounts the day, the rescues, the recoveries, the trials, the legal maneuvering, and how one horrific incident changed our nation forever. Security measures at Federal buildings were installed in an effort to avoid this type of tragedy from ever occurring again. But more significantly is the story of how one community and in turn one nation rallied to bring aid and comfort to those who were suffering.

A republican governor and democratic president worked together to restore order and provide healing to the city and to the nation. Religious leaders joined in ecumenical efforts to help make sense of the madness and assure that God had not abandoned us at this most desperate time. One of the most touching tales was of a volunteer who was collecting donations of shoes. The need was so great, due to the massive amount of broken glass for blocks surrounding the bombing. A man got out of his car and handed the volounteer a single pair of boots that were gently worn. As he walked away, she realized he was barefoot.

This is a lesson for today. This is a lesson for me. As a lay associate of the Sisters Most Precious Blood, I try to be a reconciling presence to others. It is our charism. I struggle with this. It’s too easy to choose sides. It’s comforting (in a perverse sort of way) to hate those with whom I disagree. We all spend too much time building walls instead of bridges.

God, enable me to be an instrument of reconciliation and healing that is so needed in our world today. Allow me to reflect your presence, your wisdom, and your abiding love. And as I reflect on the precious blood that was spilled on that fateful day, give me the strength to give my shoes to someone in need, regardless of their political persuasion or beliefs or appearance or circumstance.

Peace,

Denis

Hippity, Hoppity, Easter’s on its way!

/ Denis Wilhelm / 1 Comment

The origins of the Easter Bunny are unclear, but he is mentioned in early German writings. The first edible Easter bunnies appeared in Germany in the 1800s and were made out of sugar and pastry. As a kid I often wondered what the Easter Bunny had to do with eggs. Polish folklore has the Virgin Mary offering eggs to the soldiers guarding Christ on the cross, as she begged them to be merciful, her tears left stains on the eggs. Eggs and bunnies and candy. There are so many conflicting images that all seem to converge at Easter in some pastel menagerie with chocolate and jellybeans thrown in for good measure.

Easter

I’ve read commentaries by some Christian writers complaining about the commercialization of Easter; how Easter is demeaned by the purchase of candy and greeting cards, etc. Easter-related spending in the United States is expected to reach about $25 billion in 2026, on everything from Easter candy to new clothes. But wasn’t Easter originally a pagan feast to celebrate spring? Painting and dying eggs pre-dates Christianity. It seems that early Christians just conveniently supplanted what was already a festival. Sort of, “Hey, we already have a party – let’s make it about Jesus!”

As a Christian, I’m not really bothered that Easter was formally a pagan feast day. I’m equally undisturbed with the Easter Bunny sharing the day that celebrates the Resurrection of Jesus Christ. If we find new life in Christ, why not celebrate the new life around us? And if you’re not a Christian, I still hope that you can enjoy a dyed egg and a chocolate bunny (or whatever means springtime to you). According to the National Confectioners Association’s survey 87% of people create an Easter basket for their kids. This just makes for happy kids. It needn’t diminish the importance of Easter. To the contrary, it should emphasize the joy we share. Why not “wear your Easter bonnet, with all the frills upon it?”

For Christians this is our Holy Week. This is the most sacred time in our Church calendar. We celebrate and remember the passion and death of Jesus. We begin this week with Palm Sunday and continue through Holy Thursday and Good Friday, as we journey with Jesus to the cross. On Saturday at the Easter Vigil, we celebrate His rising anew. Through His death and resurrection, we are saved!

This year I’ve decided that instead of being annoyed with the secularization of Easter, I will embrace the world that God has given us. Whether I encounter those who are thankful for a Savior or folks who are just thankful for spring weather, I will try to share their joy. As some of my friends celebrate Passover and others are looking forward to a long weekend, why create conflict? Instead of looking for something to be angry about or focusing on our differences I will try to bring peace and reconciliation to those I meet.

I believe that God created a world big enough for all of us. So I’ll be singing Alleluia on Easter and later if I spy a bunny in my garden or a jellybean should find its way to me, so much the better.

Peace,

Denis

He is not here, for he has been raised just as he said. Matthew 28:6

 

Ever Ancient – Ever New

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During this school year, my wife and I have been invited to join the monthly “Grandparents’ Mass and Rosary” at our grandson’s high school. Any grandparent who can attend is welcomed. Each gathering consists of a mass, the recitation of the rosary and a grandparent’s blessing. After mass and rosary, we are then joined by our grandson for a brief visit. What a joy and blessing to share time with him at his school and get to take a peek into his world.

The word rosary comes from Latin and means a garland of roses, the rose being one of the flowers traditionally used to symbolize the Virgin Mary. Most people, Catholics and non-Catholics alike, are aware that a rosary is a strand of beads and has some prayerful significance. The Catholic Church considers the rosary a “sacramental”. Other examples of sacramentals include blessings, holy water and medals. They are merely intended to enhance the spiritual life of the faithful and may have more cultural significance for some than others. Sacramentals are not a requirement of our Church, but they are traditions with which many find comfort. The beads on a rosary signify different prayers, but the “Hail Mary” is the most prominent. Typically, it is repeated 53 times while praying a rosary. All Catholic school children learn this prayer, and most can recite it from memory. It’s an ancient prayer imploring Jesus’ mother Mary to pray for us and all those in need of God’s mercy, especially those near death. 

I love the “Hail Mary” because it’s easy to remember, but mostly because it harkens back to the days when most people were uneducated and yet were still able to implore God’s mercy with this simple prayer. I imagine my ancestors praying the same words that I repeat today. Recently, while attending mass and holding my dad’s rosary, I felt generations of believers joining me in my devotion. I thought of their journeys of faith, and I want to believe that they were praying with me and for me. All of us together asking Our Blessed Mother to be with us in our times need and to intercede on our behalf.

So today I pray for my grandchildren, my children, my wife, my siblings, my friends and all those who have gone on before me. There is comfort in knowing that my simple prayer is being joined by countless others through the centuries. It is powerful, this prayer that is ever ancient – ever new!

Truth be told, I always thought of praying the rosary as kind of an ‘old person’ thing. I guess the time has arrived.

Peace,

Denis

The angel Gabriel was sent from God to a town of Galilee called Nazareth, to a virgin betrothed to a man named Joseph, of the house of David, and the virgin’s name was Mary. And coming to her, he said, “Hail, full of grace! The Lord is with you.” Luke 1:26-28

Saint Joseph Pray for Us

/ Denis Wilhelm / 1 Comment

Today is the Feast of Saint Joseph. As a father, I have a strong devotion to Joseph – the patron saint of all fathers. I have been blessed with three incredible children. I realize that I’m not in their league in terms of intelligence, ability, and achievement. And yet, God decided to bless me with these three.

I rely on Saint Joseph to help me. He knew the overwhelming responsibility of fatherhood. He understood that the love of a father is so strong and yet at the same time so tender it cannot be described in mere words. He certainly must have felt ill-equipped, at times, to deal with Jesus. I could write volumes about my ineptitude as a father. I take for granted that my children understand that they are in my heart so deeply that every day I am blessed by their very existence. But I’m not sure I always show them by my actions. Sometimes no matter how hard I try – I fail. I do the wrong thing. Or I behave unkindly. Or forget to say, “I love you”. God gave me Saint Joseph to reach out to when I make a mess of things.

We know little about Joseph. We know that he had doubts. We also know that he said yes. He protected Mary and Jesus. Joseph is often depicted as an old man. But I believe Joseph was young when Jesus was born like I was when my kids came along. A worker. A teacher. A companion. A dad. Frightened but courageous. Ill-prepared but undaunted. Beleaguered but unrelenting. He must have had a sense of humor. I’d like to think that Jesus laughed at Joseph’s “dad jokes”.

My prayers always include my children and my grandchildren but while asking God to protect them, I sometimes forget to thank God. So, thank you God! You did a great job creating these beautiful humans. God, thanks for letting me have a hand in it, too. And thanks especially for giving me St. Joseph as a model of fatherly love, patience, and devotion.

Peace,

Denis

Saint Joseph, pray for us (and especially me)!