Commentary

Am I Ready For Christmas?

/ Denis Wilhelm / Leave a comment

This time of year, I am often asked, “Are you ready for Christmas?” My polite answer is usually, “Gosh, I still have a few things to (do) (buy) (wrap), etc., etc.” What I’m often thinking is, “Hell no, I’m not ready, I need more (time) (patience) (quiet), etc., etc.!”

So in these final days before Christmas, I try to find the time, patience, and quiet that I desperately need to prepare myself for Christmas. I want to buy my loved ones the perfect gifts and wrap them beautifully. I want the house to be decorated with holiday charm. I want the food to be plentiful and delicious. I want to cue the music. I want to have lots of good cheer! I want my Christmas to be a Hallmark® Christmas with joyous celebrations and a happy ending.

Then I realize how wrong-headed I am. All I want, is what I want. I want the perfect gifts. I want the beautiful house. I want the food and drinks and cheer. There is nothing wrong with any of those things, except that I’ve put myself first. I want. I want. I want…

advent-candles-third-sunday-quizThe Advent Season is a blessing for me. It gives me the opportunity to set aside my needs and my wants, and to instead focus on the love of a God who sent his Son to be with us. It is a good time for me to reflect how loving (or unloving) I have been. It’s an opportunity for me to reach out to others; to become vulnerable; to stop worrying about perfection and to become perfected in Christ’s love.

Advent is counter-cultural. Turn-off. Tune out. Time to prepare my heart and my soul for the celebration of the coming of Christ. That will require some time and some patience and some quiet, too.

So when next person asks, “Are you ready for Christmas?”, I’ll simply smile and say, “I’m getting there!”

Peace,

Denis

 

Will I Know Him When He Comes?

/ Denis Wilhelm / Leave a comment

“If Jesus visited me, what would I be able to give Him?” That was the question of the old shoemaker in Tolstoy’s story. The response came back to him from a voice not present, “Dear old shoemaker, tonight I am going to visit your village. Look for Me.”

Of course as the story goes on we learn that the shoemaker is visited by orphans and widows looking for shelter and food. The shoemaker gives to each who approach him. He even shares the soup he has prepared for Jesus. He goes even further by making shoes for children in the orphanage. But ultimately he is disappointed because Jesus does not come.

When he questions God, he is told “I visited you last night and you gave me warmth. I was thirsty and you gave me a drink. I was hungry and you fed me, and I was in the orphanage and you came to visit me. Whatever you did for all these people, you also did for me.”

I wonder, do I serve others as would choose to serve my Lord? Do I have the same spirit of generosity and love for those whom I don’t know? Do I fail to recognize Christ in my fellow humans?

adventcandlesAdvent is a good time for me to stop and listen to what Jesus is asking of me. I try to quiet myself and listen to what is truly important. Mostly I fail. But sometimes Jesus shines through. Sometimes my heart is broken open enough to allow the love of God to fill my soul. The love is always there but often it takes a smile or a kind word or a song or a warm embrace to help me let down my defenses. Last weekend my granddaughter gently put her arm around me and told me (again) that she loved me. Christ came to me at that moment. I didn’t even ask for God’s love and there it was!

I have a dear friend who is volunteering at a Humanitarian Center serving immigrants from Central America as I write this. I can’t help but believe that he has been visited by Jesus countless times. And he has been Christ to those families who are in such desperate need of love and care. He is an inspiration to me.

O come, O come Emmanuel. This year when I hear this ancient and beautiful song, my heart is with those immigrant families mourning in lonely exile until the Son of God appears.

Peace,

Denis

 

Being a Minister of Hospitality with an Inhospitable Heart

/ Denis Wilhelm / Leave a comment

I had an Uncle Les who was one of the kindest men I ever met. Always smiling and ready to shake a hand, he appeared constantly happy – always approachable and utterly charming. Fittingly, he was an Usher at our Parish Church. Never a Sunday went by that he didn’t hug our kiddos, give Deb a peck on the check and offer me a pat on the back. It remains one of my greatest joys about attending mass at our old parish. And Uncle Les didn’t reserve his hospitality for his nephew and family. He greeted everyone in the same manner. “Welcome!”  “Good to see!”  “How are you?”

Fast-forward about forty years and now I’m an usher (we’re called ministers of hospitality today) and I try to be a friendly face and welcoming presence like my dear uncle. Usually I fall short of that goal.

I have a secret: I became an usher (oops – minister of hospitality) because I didn’t like most of the people I encountered at Mass. Ours is an upscale, very conservative parish where I often feel out of step with most of my fellow parishioners. I thought that if I could stop judging and start greeting people I would learn to love them as they are and let go of my need to have everyone think and act like me. Some days are easier than others.

But it’s working.  S L O W L Y –  V E R Y  S L O W L Y.

usher-pic_origI smile and shake hands and offer the occasional hug or pat on the back. I’m the ‘Minister of Hospitality’ but in truth I’m the one being ministered. These folks that I’m greeting, that I know I would have never engaged in conversation before, are also welcoming me and greeting me and loving me. I’m certain many are misogynists, and racists, and xenophobes, and all manner of despicable human. But isn’t that why we gather? Aren’t we at Mass to be changed? Aren’t we building the “Body of Christ” in our flawed human way?

So I continue to show up on Sundays and do my thing. I smile. I greet. I welcome. I especially enjoy the ‘late-comers’ – the folks who try to slip in unnoticed. They often have a look that’s a mixture of shame and astonishment (“How did this happen? I’m sure I left my house on time!”) I greet them with a special smile and knowing nod – “It’s okay; you’re here; you made it; welcome.” I particularly love our “back of church” officially called the “Gathering Space” It’s an amazing and wonderful place.  Normal ‘Mass behavior’ can be abandoned there; beleaguered parents can allow their children to run and giggle; crying is completely acceptable; teenagers can skulk about like parolees.

In all of this, I see God’s love. Jesus is greeting me with each smile and kind word. I’m beginning to look at the “Body of Christ” in a whole new light. And little by little my stone cold heart is being chipped away.

Some Sundays I even feel Uncle Les smiling down on me.

Peace,

Denis

Saints Be Praised, (well Saint Denis, anyway…)

/ Denis Wilhelm / Leave a comment

Today is the Feast Day of St. Denis. He is the patron Saint of Paris and France and headache sufferers.

I’ve always been happy to have Denis as my saint’s name because he’s kind of a maverick and a tough guy. According to legend Denis was Bishop of Paris in the third century and was martyred by beheading. He is said to have picked up his own head and walked six miles, preaching a sermon the entire way. Also Denis is the patron saint of headache sufferers, frenzy and strife. This is not surprising considering that six-mile trek while carrying his own severed head!

St. Denis - Outside the Madeline in Paris (depicted with head intact)

St. Denis – Outside the Madeleine in Paris (depicted with head intact)

Of course, I admire the “saintly” saints who prayed and fasted and gave up all worldly possessions to follow Jesus’ call. We all love the saints who lived simple lives and made tremendous sacrifices for their faith but there’s something about a guy that’s got Denis’s spunk. I mean even the biggies like Francis and Theresa and Patrick and Clare didn’t carry around their own heads postmortem. So, in my book Denis is a saint to emulate. Not only was he tough but he was cool. Let’s call it grace under pressure – extreme pressure.

St. Denis

Our grandson Noah as St. Denis in 2017 during an All-Saints’ Mass at school

My Aunt Gene, who was a Sister of the Most Precious Blood, used to send me a ‘Saints Day’ card on Denis’s feast day, and I will miss that again this year. When Alzheimer’s took it’s grip, she forgot about Saint Denis and was sometimes a little fuzzy about who I was, too. But she’s the one who first introduced me to the saint who shares my name. And I have always taken a certain amount of pride (is that a sin?) in the fact that my patron saint was a badass who defied his Roman persecutors!

I’d like to think that Aunt Gene and Denis are in heaven having a conversation about that fateful day in Paris so many centuries ago…

Peace,

Denis

Carpooling, Chromebooks, Common Core and Other Confoundment.

/ Denis Wilhelm / 1 Comment

This week we had two of our grandkids stay with us. Their parents were on a little get-away. We enjoy having the kiddos spend the night on occasion but full-time parental duty is a bit daunting. Don’t get me wrong. We had a great time and they are great kids but school and extracurriculars today are very different from when our children were students.

schoolCarpool drop-off and pick-up requires special training and following the RULES. You have to wait for your signal and be prepared to “REMAIN IN YOUR CAR” or “EXIT YOUR CAR” or “MOVE OUT OF THE WAY OLD MAN – YOU CAN KISS YOUR GRANDKIDS GOODBYE SOME OTHER TIME”. Those carpoolers don’t mess around. And I suppose giving someone “the finger” at a Catholic school is frowned upon. Live and learn…

A Chromebook (some kind of computer) is required for 5th graders. I don’t understand what happens with it, I just know that whatever it is can’t happen without it. And yes, I had return to school when it was left behind Wednesday morning. For the record: it was my fault. I asked my granddaughter is she needed her iPad thingy. Which she didn’t. What I should have asked was, “do you need your computer thingy in the pink case?”

I have no idea what Common Core is. Probably something that 5th graders do with their Chromebooks. I heard some Moms talking about it at the 2nd grader’s baseball game and pretended to understand. I think I had them totally fooled.

This week there was choir practice and a baseball game and Robotics. Each day was another adventure. We had homework and bath time and bedtime rituals. We shared lots of laughs at dinner as we talked about the school day. Bedtime prayers nearly broke my heart each night with their simple yet eloquent thanksgiving for life and love. Their little poochie slept snuggly between them. And we all fell fast asleep. Some of us were more tired than others.

Their Nana made their favorite foods for breakfast and dinner and I benefitted from the requests. Who doesn’t want to start a day with Red Velvet Pancakes? Lunches were packed with special snacks. I scored some of those, too.

It has been a fun week, but I’m not sorry that Mom and Dad are coming home to take over. I’m reminded once again that there is a time and place for everything and it’s time for me to go back to being a grandfather and to get out of the carpool lane.

Peace,

Denis

 

 

 

 

 

And I Remain a Catholic…

/ Denis Wilhelm / 2 Comments

This is not an easy time for Catholics. The unspeakable evil revealed in Pennsylvania that over 1,000 persons were sexually abused by 300 priests and even worse the systematic cover up by church hierarchy for seven decades is devastating. The details of the abuse are sickening but they should be read and understood by every practicing Catholic. We cannot bury our heads in the sand. It’s important to remember that pedophile priests aren’t just something that came out of Boston or Pennsylvania or Ireland. Many of my classmates will remember a priest in our Catholic grade school in the 1960’s that was “reassigned” as rumors whirled around about his behavior. I was spared but some of the boys in my class were abused (which is a polite way to say raped). It was an open secret. We all knew something, but we were too young (or ill-informed) to know what we knew. Twenty-five years later a popular young priest was removed from the school where our children attended because of abuse allegations. And on and on…

Many of my non-Catholic friends ask how I can remain in a Church so full of disgrace and sinfulness. How can I remain in a Church where the clergy attack the most vulnerable amongst us? Some of my Catholic friends ask that question, too. Truth be told, sometimes I ask myself. 

I’m angry. I’m outraged. I’m sad. I’m broken-hearted. And still I remain a Catholic.

We must not ignore the crimes of those priests and bishops. We should ALL speak up and speak out. We must ferret out the monsters who would prey upon the most vulnerable. I’m angry that anyone would sexually exploit a child, especially someone in a position of trust. I’m outraged that Church hierarchy covered up the abuse for decades, maybe centuries. I’m sad because of the loss of innocence and the destruction of faith in those young souls and that these despicable acts have been repeated countless times and it doesn’t seem to stop! I’m broken-hearted because now some in our Church are using these latest revelations as an excuse to attack progressives in our midst. Some ultra-conservative bishops are using this latest crisis to instill hate and doubt in the hearts and minds of others to further their political agendas. And still, I remain a Catholic.

Our Church champions pro-life causes when it’s about abortion or euthanasia but remains largely silent regarding affordable health care for the young and the aged. We proclaim our belief in a catholic (universal) Church; one that welcomes all of God’s creation but in practice we don’t really welcome everyone and are often openly hostile when it comes to LGBTQ rights and gender equality. We fail as a faith community when we refuse to fight for the dignity of immigrants and those separated from their children by our government’s overreach. We pay lip service to racism in the Church but in the U.S., we remain predominantly male, white and insular in our worship and leadership. Where is the compassion for those marginalized in our society? Pro-life should mean supporting ALL life not just that with which we are comfortable. I often feel ashamed of the unloving attitudes of some of my church-mates and myself. And still I remain a Catholic.

Our Church (my Church) is like a family: loud, messy, demanding, imperfect, passive-aggressive, arrogant, and intolerant. We have our share of crazy uncles, angry spouses, spoiled brats, privileged teens, and old codgers. We fight. We’re selfish. We neglect one another. We refuse to lift a hand to help one another. We are at times ugly, hateful and mean-spirited.

untitledBut because our Church (my Church) is like a family we also love, protect and cherish one other. We nurture, advise, and counsel one another. We pray for one another. Like any family, we come together in times of celebration and heartache. Our family cheers us on when we feel down-trodden or overwhelmed by circumstances beyond our control. Our family carries us when we’ve lost all hope and strength. When there is a death or a job loss or some natural disaster, families can put aside their differences and be there for one another. It is also true for our Church – we need to accept one another as we are. We need to celebrate one another as we are. I’m reminded that we are the Church. Not the priests nor the bishops, but you and I. If you’re searching for God; if you need to see Jesus’ face, just look at the person next to you in the pew.

We Catholics are human – hopelessly flawed and sinful. Still in spite our failings we are given grace because God’s love is without fail. No matter how we muck things up; no matter how grave our sins; no matter how unforgivable our actions; we are forgiven. God’s love is greater than our sin.

And so, I’m going to keep the “family” that I have and remain a Catholic…

Peace,

Denis

 

 

 

Headache and Heartache

/ Denis Wilhelm / 1 Comment

I travel quite a bit for my job. It can sometimes be a humbling experience.

When I was a child, I thought that business travel seemed glamorous and exotic. Fancy hotels with bellhops, jetliners with stewardesses and restaurants serving martinis at lunch were all depicted in the movies and television shows that I watched. I wanted to be Cary Grant or Sean Connery. Jet-setter. High-roller. Globe-trotter.

Instead I’m the schlub who lugs his bags into a discount hotel after spending painful hours cramped in an airplane seat so small that it seems to have been designed for pixies or driving a (less than clean) rental car for far too many miles while being equally frustrated and flummoxed by which side of the steering wheel the wipers are on and where the little button for the gas cap release is hiding. Cary Grant never had to deal with this crap.

Because I’m usually out-of-town for a few days in a row, I will on occasion buy groceries (you know – that already made stuff that can go in microwave) so as to avoid another dinner alone at Panera or Applebee’s or wherever. I will then “cook” in my rental suite while growling at the news of the day on television.

Recently after a long day, with a simmering headache, I decided to stop at the Kroger in Jeffersonville, Indiana and grab a few things. The checker’s name tag informed me that she was Delilah (although in all honesty, I was more interested in reading one of the messages tattooed across her neck). Delilah was big in all the wrong places and she had hair that was a color not found in nature. She proceeded to comment on every single item that I had purchased. Apparently, Cokes have names on them now and she asked if my name was Landon because my Coke was named Landon. Of course because I had a headache and was tired and cranky I wanted to say, “Why yes, I make it a rule to only buy soft drinks with my name on them.” “You can imagine my delight in finding the rare ‘Landon’!” Instead, I just grunted “no” and hoped she would shut up. Which she didn’t (or couldn’t). She went on to tell me that she had tried the salad that I bought and it wasn’t very good. In my self-righteous indignation, I wanted to sarcastically thank her for her culinary advice and compliment her neck tattoos and nose ring, but instead I just took my lousy salad and my ‘Landon’ Coke and left.

judginLater while getting into my rental car, I saw Delilah. She was hard to miss – neck tattoos, body piercings and all. She was patiently helping an old woman get into her car and then loaded her groceries in the trunk. She took time to speak to this woman and more importantly to listen to her. She absolutely refused to take a tip. She thanked the woman, wished her a good day and offered her blessings.

Wow. What a complete jackass I had been. Perhaps instead of judging my checker’s appearance, I should have been looking into her eyes. Instead of being annoyed by her friendliness, I could have shared a kind word or smile. Maybe then I might have seen some of the beauty that the old woman had experienced. Cary Grant likely would have.

Instead, I went to my economy hotel suite and ate dinner alone and realized that I missed another opportunity to love like Jesus. And in spite of my arrogance and heartlessness I realized then that I’m forgiven even when I struggle to forgive myself. It’s humbling to know that God still loves me in all my selfishness, vanity and absurdity.

And by the way, Delilah was right about my dinner choice. It wasn’t very good.

Peace,

Denis

Stop judging, that you may not be judged. For as you judge, so will you be judged, and the measure with which you measure will be measured out to you. Matthew 7:1-2  

Happy Birthday

/ Denis Wilhelm / 1 Comment

Today is my wife’s birthday. I met Debbie 45 years ago while we were both working part-time at a discount store while attending local colleges. Friendship turned into love and love turned into marriage. And the rest is history; her story; our story. There have been plenty of ups and downs but we’ve held on tight. We have laughed nearly every day of our married life (sometimes through the tears). We’ve raised three kids, had multiple careers, lived on two continents, and traveled the world together. We’ve had grand moments and enjoyed simple pleasures. We’ve worked hard; played hard and taken turns carrying one another along the way.

IMG_3774I’ve often wondered why I’ve been so fortunate. I look at other couples and I sometimes feel a tinge of sadness (or is it pride?); realizing they’ll never experience the profound love I’ve known. I witness all the madness in our world and I’m secure in the knowledge that at home I will always find comfort, peace, and joy. Those of you who know Deb, know that she is the heart of our family; that friendships are lifelong; that her word is her bond; and that I’m the luckiest man on earth. Lots of people love Debbie. And her love for others is boundless. But somehow I was one who got to share this life with her. Through all these years; the good days and the bad; through the joys and sorrows; I’ve had this beautiful hand to hold.

I’m a simple man and I simply love my wife. Today seemed like a good day for me to tell her again.

Happy Birthday Deb!

I love you,

Denis

 

 

Land of the Free

/ Denis Wilhelm / Leave a comment

Today is America’s birthday. A great day for celebrations. Parades. Fireworks. Flag waving. This should be a day to be proud of our great nation.

The chilling images of children in detention centers at our southern borders cast a dark shadow over this great day. Meanwhile, in our nation’s capitol, the president is assembling tanks and armored vehicles in a garish display of military might. Mr. Trump is using our troops as political props in a sad attempt to burnish his image as a powerful leader.

This is America! What has happened? Where is our love of mankind?

As a nation have we become so narrow-minded; so entrenched; so chauvinistic; that we can’t accept another point of view? Are we condemned to be living in fear or loathing of our neighbors? We sing “God Bless America” but where is God in all our hateful rhetoric? How do we pledge to be “One Nation Under God” and deny basic freedom and dignity to those in desperate need of asylum? While families are being separated and babies are being torn from their mother’s arms, where are our statesmen and stateswomen?

What can I do?

First of all: instead of wringing my hands and swearing at the television, I will be a patriot. I will wave my flag. I will continue to write to my congresswoman and senators and the president. I will vote. I will debate. I will support candidates who will fight for justice for all. I will stand tall. I will speak up. I will remember that our nation is not perfect. I will celebrate what I can. I will protest what I must. I will pray. And I will remember.
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I will remember those who have died to protect our freedom. I will remember that my great-grandparents were immigrants who were welcomed into a strange land with no money, no education and no discernible value or skills to offer. They didn’t speak English. They didn’t have degrees. They probably wouldn’t be welcomed today.

As a nation we have much to do. We have to work to insure our freedom and to guarantee freedom to all who enter here. We can do better! Our children and grandchildren deserve to live in an America that is still beautiful.

Our nation should be celebrated today. It’s messy. It’s imperfect. It’s mine. It’s yours. It’s ours. And it has ALWAYS been great.

Peace,

Denis

“I pray to God that you never have to flee violence or poverty or persecution with your children. And if that day comes that you must and your babies are forcibly removed from your arms, I will fight for you, too.” — Brené Brown

 

Faking Fatherhood

/ Denis Wilhelm / Leave a comment

I became a father at twenty-three. To say that I was clueless would be an huge understatement. Not only did I not know what I was doing, I didn’t think I needed to know anything. Within five years we had two more kids. My knowledge of fatherhood had not increased. I pretended to comprehend the magnitude and seriousness of fatherhood with it’s wisdom and overwhelming responsibility for nurturing and molding young minds and bodies. But I was just faking it.

Don’t get me wrong. I was knee-deep in diapers and feedings and bath time rituals and nighttime prayers and all the rest. I was a hands-on dad. I wiped up puke and dealt with tantrums, and frantic searches for lost pacifiers. But didn’t know any of the “important stuff”. How could I be a father when I could barely take care of myself? When I tucked those babies in at night I prayed for wisdom. I prayed for patience. I prayed that I wouldn’t screw things up too badly. But I was just faking it.

Then came the school years with sports and science projects and Girl Scouts and Boy Scouts and all the rest. The kids had homework that I couldn’t possibly do. They played sports that I couldn’t have played as a no-talent, last-to-be-picked-for-a-team kid. I went on Boy Scout camping trips that I hated. And I just kept faking it.

Years flew by and the kids grew up and became adults. Off to the Air Force. Off to college. Down the aisle. I sighed (and cried) but I put on a brave face and big smile and faked it. They weren’t ready for what was coming their way because I hadn’t done my job. I hadn’t prepared them for adulthood. And I just kept faking it.

family

Faking it big time!

Now I have grandkids and I’m still faking it – the wisdom part; the knowledge part; the Fatherhood expertise part; I still fake all that. But the love; the love is real. And LOVE is amazing because it makes up for all my other shortcomings. Love lets me fake all the rest. And so I began faking it the day that baby boy was placed in my arms. Because love is all that really ever mattered.

And being a father is the greatest gift I was ever given. Turns out that you don’t have to be worthy, or brilliant or patient or knowledgeable, just loving…

Peace,

Denis