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Mercy

/ Denis Wilhelm / 1 Comment

Social Media. Cable News Networks. Talk Radio. Podcasts. The constant barrage of hate being spewed out has left me feeling numb at times. I am often overwhelmed by the vitriol and hatred of so many in our society. More disturbing is the apparent lack of concern by so many others. We seem to stand idly by while cruelty is being parsed out on a daily basis by our political leaders. Perhaps their goal is that we become emotionally unresponsive or indifferent. Then the lack of common decency goes unnoticed. Then the inhumanity becomes commonplace. Then there is no shock; no outrage; no need for concern.

Why doesn’t my senator oppose the way immigrants are being terrorized? Why doesn’t my congressman stand up for those being marginalized? Why do I expect those in power to make a positive change?

Yesterday, my parish priest spoke of Saint Peter’s faith and trust. Peter’s life is a reminder that Christ doesn’t call the perfect – He perfects those he calls. Dang it! I keep hoping that someone else will swoop in and fix everything. I keep waiting for someone in power to “do the right thing”. I keep looking for someone out there to speak truth to power. Yesterday I was reminded to look in the mirror.

So, what to do? What to do?

If I want reconciliation in my life, in my neighborhood, in my town, and in my country. I need to be THE ONE. I need to be the one to stop judging. I need to be the one to stop hating. I need to be one to stop waiting. It needs to be me who stands up and speaks up now. I need to be the one who shows mercy to others and begs God for mercy for myself.

Prayer helps. Peaceful action is required. Kindness can always be given freely. Holding a hand, mending a broken heart, offering a shoulder to lean on, listening to others – none of these things require great power. It doesn’t require bravery or bravado. It only requires surrender and faith and love for the least amongst us.

Peace (and mercy),

Denis

For I was hungry, and you gave me food, I was thirsty, and you gave me drink, a stranger and you welcomed me, naked and you clothed me, ill and you cared for me, in prison and you visited me. Matthew 25:35-36

Put Me in Coach

/ Denis Wilhelm / 1 Comment

Someone once told me that there are three types of people:

  • People who make things happen.
  • People who watch things happen.
  • And people who say, “What happened?”

Too often I have found myself in that third group. Not even aware of what is going on around me. Perhaps my ‘head in the sand’ attitude is a coping mechanism or maybe I’m just obtuse. Either way, it’s not a great way to live. I try to be aware of what’s going on in my community, my country, my world, but I feel sometimes that I am bombarded with information. And sorting truth from fiction is challenging to say the least. Which news source is reliable? Which social media outlet is trustworthy? Which friends and neighbors are well-informed and honest? At times it seems everyone has an agenda, so I shut down and shut it all out and find myself asking, “What happened?”

Then I spend time with my role models, and I realize I can make things happen. Maybe not grand things or important things, but I can be a positive change in my world. A ripple. A moment. A witness.

My grandson plays baseball. He’s one of the smaller kids on his team. He’s not a power hitter. But he plays with so much heart. He gets out there every game and gives it his all. I was always too timid to play sports as a kid. Fear of injury. Fear of failure. Fear of ridicule. But Noah swings that bat with such determination. He fields, he steals bases, he contributes to his team in a positive way. He’s blessed to have a great coach and equally blessed to have parents who remind him to listen to his coach. He gets better with every trip to the plate. And I am reminded that if Noah makes things happen, I can to!

My granddaughter recently made her First Communion. She worked hard this past year to learn about the sacrament and to prepare herself. She had some apprehension on the day she received. I’m not certain if she was afraid of the pomp and circumstance of the day or if she was not sure about the change she might feel after receiving Jesus for the first time. Was she concerned about a misstep or a forgotten word or gesture? Or was it just that her new shoes were a little slippery and wearing a veil and a fancy dress felt a bit overwhelming? Regardless she made it down the aisle and appeared angelic and lit up the church with her smile. It was accomplished. She was received. And for a moment we all shared in that glimpse of heaven before us. I know if Gwen could overcome her fear, I can to!

When I look at these two, I am reminded of the blessings I have received in this life. I’m not gifted. I’m not wealthy. I’m not terribly bright. But I have the ability to make things happen. In my small way, I can be a force for good. I can do the right thing. I can work for justice by voting for persons of integrity. I can volunteer to help those in greater need than my own. I can listen. I can pray. I can act.

And I’m going to keep swinging that bat and walking down that aisle until I get it right.

Who knows? Maybe someday I can make a ripple; have a moment; be a witness.

Peace,

Denis

Following Yonder Star

/ Denis Wilhelm / 2 Comments

When Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea,
in the days of King Herod,
behold, Magi from the east arrived in Jerusalem, saying,
“Where is the newborn king of the Jews?
We saw his star at its rising
and have come to do him homage.” Matthew 2:1-2

I love the gospel story of the Epiphany. I imagine the Magi following the star and journeying through vast deserts on camelback to a distant land in search of a newborn king. And discovering their hearts’ desire in the most unexpected of places.

It has occurred to me that my “understanding” of the Magi hasn’t really changed much since I was a child. I’ve always pictured them as mystical and exotic; richly robed kings or emirs driven by an ‘unearthly desire’ to find Jesus. Did they know he was born in poverty? Did they know that he would change the world? Why were they driven to find him? And upon finding him in such humble surroundings why did they prostrate themselves as if he were a king? And why the gifts?  Why gold, frankincense, and myrrh?   

Three gifts were presented to Jesus, but the Matthew never tells us the number of Magi or whether they were men or women. Legend tells us they were three Kings named Caspar, Melchior, and Balthasar, but they could as likely been astronomers. Early Christian art depicts the three men as coming from Europe, Asia, and Africa. And growing up my nativity set would show them likewise bearing their gifts – gold: a gift fit for a king; frankincense: which is burned during prayer; myrrh: which is a perfume most often associated with burial – a foreshadowing of Jesus’s death and suffering. Another tradition (brought to the U.S. by European immigrants) involves writing the initials of the three kings’ names above the main door of the home to confer blessings on the occupants for the New Year. For example, 20 + C + M + B + 24.

I still find comfort in the imagined Wise Men of my childhood – these three; certain of their mission; following yonder star without question; and knowing when they found the Christ-child that He was THE ONE.

But how do I relate to this ideal in my own life? Where is my certainty? Where is my mission? Where is my star? I think of how I sometimes miss the obvious – and maybe my star is burning brightly, and I just can’t see it. Perhaps my mission is to continue to question; to journey; to “look to the east”. Maybe I need to find my certainty in my own heart and soul. God has truly blessed me – what wonder do I seek to be assured of His love? 

This is the message from the Magi for me: it doesn’t really matter if they were kings or astronomers or men. They were immigrants. They were strangers in a land searching for the unknown. They journeyed in uncertainty. They let go of any preconceptions or expectations they might have had. And when they found him and looked into the eyes of a poor child, they understood, and they were changed.

How do I accept strangers into my life today; my home; my country? How do I open my heart when others seemed to be obsessed with building walls and strengthening borders? Jesus was born in the humblest of circumstances. How do I treat those who are living in poverty, in despair? Perhaps it’s time for me to prostrate myself before the immigrant, the poor, the desperate. Isn’t that the message of Jesus? Isn’t that what the Magi were truly following?

Perhaps my challenge is to stop trying to “make sense of it all” and just follow that yonder star.

Peace,

Denis

Prepare the Way

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It’s easy to imagine that John the Baptist thought that he was the ‘only one’. The only one who knew what was coming. Maybe he was skulking around in the desert wearing animal skins because he was disgusted with the state of the world and the callous disregard of others. Or perhaps he was wandering around alone as a way to quiet himself enough to receive God’s message, but I’ll never quite understand why he ate locusts. Surely there was a better way to “prepare the way”.

Advent is a good time for me to stop trying to sort it all out and just accept 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. And maybe that’s the point: the hurt, the despair, the loneliness, and the frustration that I feel when I look at all the sadness and madness in our world weakens me psychologically and spiritually. But when I am most vulnerable, when I feel alone in my anger and outrage, when I am broken, and crying out alone, I pray. And then Jesus helps me “prepare the way” in my heart and in my soul.

It’s messy. At times I feel powerless. And overwhelmed. I cry out “where are you God?” And then, I find strength in my friends and family. I find goodwill in my neighbors, and I find comfort in my faith community. I find love in those around me. I see Christ’s hands and feet in the countless folks who give so generously of their time, talent, and treasure to serve others. And I stop looking at others as “the others”.

Recently we prepared and served a meal at the Ronald McDonald House. It was a simple gesture to ease the suffering of the families whose children are hospitalized. As we were busy about our tasks, another group came in to “entertain” the children with decorating sugar cookies. Sadly, I was focused on “getting the job done” and paid little attention to those we were serving. And then, while we were cleaning up the kitchen, I noticed a young girl about 4 or 5 years old who obviously had multiple surgeries on her tiny hands. We learned that she was from Panama, and she spoke no English. She carefully decorated a cookie and with her one good hand presented it to one of our friends who had joined us for the evening. This little girl’s gentle offering was incredible. It was completely disarming. And a reminder that God is always with us.

Advent comes. And we prepare the way…

Peace,

Denis

The Weight

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Jesus said to the crowds: “Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest.
Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart; and you will find rest for yourselves. For my yoke is easy, and my burden light.” Mt 11:28-30

The pop song “The Weight” was released in 1968 by The Band. The song takes place in Nazareth, where the singer encounters several colorful characters. The song’s writer, Robbie Robertson, has described it as something he threw together with no religious intent. Still, the lyrics do lead listeners to draw their own conclusions.

I pulled into Nazareth, was feelin’ about half past dead. I just need some place where I can lay my head.

“Hey, mister, can you tell me where a man might find a bed?” He just grinned and shook my hand, and “No” was all he said.

Today would have been my father-in-law’s birthday. He grew up dirt poor in Southeast Missouri. He lived a hard scrabble life as a kid. He earned pocket money killing rats in the cotton and watermelon fields as young boy. He lived in his grandparents’ home when his mother couldn’t afford a place of their own, but he never complained about his upbringing. He never voiced any regrets. Pop carried his burdens privately, with grace and dignity.

Unfortunately, I lack the grace and humility that my father-in-law possessed. I cry out in pain when my burdens seem insurmountable. I curse when life doesn’t meet my expectations. I rail against real and perceived injustices. My disappointments, my heartaches, my failures become overwhelming. And I often fail to listen to Jesus’ words. In my selfishness and solitude, I often lack the empathy to feel others’ pain. Then I re-read this Gospel, and I am reminded that I can take comfort in knowing we can all find our rest. Whether we cry out in pain, or suffer in silence, we are assured that Jesus will carry our burdens. But here’s the catch: turning over our burdens to Christ requires that we carry the load for others as well. Jesus said, “Take my yoke upon you and learn from me.” As Christians we’re called to follow Jesus’ example of love. Our burdens will be lessened as we join them with Jesus and help carry the load for others.

Take a load off (friend). And you put the load right on me.

“You will find rest for yourselves. For my yoke is easy, and my burden light.”

Peace,

Denis

What? I’m Holy??!!!

/ Denis Wilhelm / 3 Comments

I recently read (again) that all Christians are called to holiness. I get that in the abstract, but I don’t usually think of myself as holy. I usually avoid holiness (or the perception of holiness). My problem is that I confuse holiness with piety or religiosity or self-righteousness. And I’m none of those things. In fact, I work hard not to appear to be pious or religious or self-righteous. There’s my stumbling block – appearance. Why am I so worried about appearing holy? Am I afraid to show my love for God and others?

All Christians in any state or walk of life are called to the perfection of love, and by this holiness a more human manner of life is fostered in earthly society. (Vatican II – Lumen Gentium 5:40).

So, love or the perfection of love is holiness? We are called to generous love, to closeness with God, to holiness. Dang it! I just want to be a good guy. A good husband, good dad, good granddad, good brother, good friend and good neighbor. Being holy has never been my goal, but I want to love others. If loving God and loving others makes me holy, then I guess, bring it on.

My heart aches for the violence and bloodshed in Israel. It’s impossible for me to understand the hate that compels such atrocities. The news reports are devasting and I confess that I have turned the television off a few times because watching it becomes unbearable. But I want to wrap my arms around the victims and their families. I pray that God will ease their suffering. Their plight seems hopeless, and my prayers seem feeble. Can one person sitting in the comfort and safety of his home make a difference? Holiness says yes.

A friend is battling cancer and has begun her chemo treatments. She is a young mother with such vitality and optimism and joy that it seems inconceivable that she should fall victim to this disease. I pray for her and her young family. I pray for healing and strength. Do my prayers matter? Holiness says yes.

Our oldest granddaughter is beginning her adult life. She is gay. She is opting for a less conventional path toward future employment – choosing an apprenticeship as an iron worker instead of college. I’m proud of the person she is – honest, loving, brave, but I worry about her future. Will uncertainty, hardship, and fear accompany her journey in life? I pray and I ask God to watch over her. Does it matter? Holiness says yes.

I suppose I should stop saying that I’m not holy. Holiness is a lifetime of conversion – a constant dance with God. I didn’t ask for holiness, but I’ve asked God for help, and I’ve thanked God for my blessings countless times.

I am learning (slowly) to perfect my love and to accept my call to holiness.

Peace,

Denis

What if the Prodigal Son had a Sister?

/ Denis Wilhelm / 1 Comment

This is an updated repost from September 2011.

I have two sons and a daughter. The sons both live a distance from us – one in Wisconsin and one in Oklahoma. The daughter lives nearby. We see the sons (if we’re lucky) a couple of times a year. We see the daughter (and we are lucky) several times a week.

When we talk (or FaceTime) with our sons, it’s usually about important upcoming events and significant happenings – graduations, anniversaries, birthdays, travel, careers, etc. When we talk to our daughter, it can be mundane – what’s for dinner, aches and pains, what’s going on at school, the weather, etc.

It occurred to me recently that perhaps our daughter might sometimes feel like the older brother of the Prodigal Son. Needless to say, she’s here day-in and day-out listening to our latest complaints and answering our latest requests – always supportive, always cheerful, always ready for more. When “the boys” come to town it’s cause célèbre. And she often helps plan and carry out whatever festivities take place. By contrast, when she comes to dinner, she’s expected to set the table, help prepare the meal and clean up afterwards. Hardly seems fair…

But fairness is never part of the equation. Bess (our beautiful and gracious daughter) has inherited her mother’s gift of charity. She seldom thinks of herself first. She wants EVERYONE to be happy (and cared for, and well fed, and loved, etc.). She always gives of herself, and she rarely expects anything in return. Her cheerfulness is contagious, and she makes others happy by just being around her (again – a gift from her mother).

She’s here. She’s available. She’s constant. And I know that they say (whoever they are) that familiarity breeds contempt. But in our case, it seems to me that familiarity creates family. We are family. And I need my daughter. And I hope she knows how much I love and appreciate her. I try to tell her in lots of small ways because we rarely have big celebrations for her and Travis and their children. We just have small celebrations and familiar and comfortable times together. And for me those small intimate gatherings are almost always more meaningful than the grand events planned for our sons.

And because of who she is, I doubt that Bess has ever resented her brothers or felt pushed aside when we “slaughter the fatted calf.” But just in case, she should know:

My (daughter), you are here with me always; everything I have is yours. ~ Luke 15:31

Peace,

Denis (Dad)

Star Gazing

/ Denis Wilhelm / Leave a comment

We read in Scripture that magi from the east arrive in Jerusalem. Magi are understood to be astrologers and it was a common belief in ancient times that a new star appeared at the time of a ruler’s birth. Scripture does not call them kings. Scripture doesn’t say they were men but, considering the time in history when most women were at home trying to not get stoned to death for some infraction, it’s likely they were. Scripture doesn’t say there were three of them, although there were three gifts mentioned. So, it appears that legend and tradition have colored this story for many of us.

I for one, love the idea of The Three Kings. Royalty (men) humbling themselves. Offering their finest treasures. Following that Star in search of a greater treasure. I have fond memories of “our magi” being placed amongst the nativity crowd as a child. My own children would place them at our nativity (and sometimes throw in a statue of Santa for good measure). Our oldest son came bounding in the house once after a kindergarten religion class and proudly told us the story of the “Three Wise Guys”. Those are all warm, happy memories.

But what’s the relevance of the magi in my life today?

Am I searching for the true treasure? Am I able to surrender my comfort and security for the unknown? Am I capable of humbling myself? What gifts do I have to offer?

The story of the magi challenges me. I just retired after fifty years of working, and I have a feeling of uncertainty about my own future, but I can let go of my need for control and accept whatever changes life has to offer. And I have the freedom now to be a bit of a star gazer. I can search for new opportunities. I can serve God by serving others. I can humble myself by serving the poor, the disenfranchised, the immigrant, the imprisoned. The gifts I can give are dignity, respect and love. And I’m not traveling alone. The magi in my midst today (my wife, my children, my grandchildren, my friends) are carrying me as I stumble along my way. When I lose my focus, they will help me find that Star.

And my journey continues…

Peace,

Denis

And behold, the star that they had seen at its rising preceded them, 
until it came and stopped over the place where the child was.
They were overjoyed at seeing the star, 
and on entering the house
they saw the child with Mary his mother.
They prostrated themselves and did him homage.
Then they opened their treasures 
and offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. Matthew 2:9-11

“Whad’Ya Know”

/ Denis Wilhelm / 3 Comments

My Dad used to say, “whad’ya know” a lot. Sometimes it was an exultation: “Whad’ya know!” after some discovery or realization or surprise. Often it was a question: “Hey Den, whad ‘ya know…?” about some random thing that I had little or no interest in. I’m afraid that I was often dismissive. “Dad, I have no idea…” was my standard response, all the while thinking, “what the hell…?”. Those were missed opportunities. I wish now I would have told him what I knew or more likely what I didn’t know. And listened (really listened) to what he knew. We lost Dad last year and those questions will never be asked again (nor answered, nor dismissed).

Grief is a funny thing. Sometimes it knocks you on your ass. You’re cruising along and everything is fine and suddenly a smell or song or leaf falling or a door closing will trigger a memory and you are immobilized. You feel frozen in time or thought and that undeniable ache crushes your entire spirit. More often though, grief gently taps you on the shoulder or hugs you around the neck and says, “slow down, whad’ya know, you’re going to be okay”. Grief can give you back those precious memories and allow your mind and spirit to simmer in those sweet moments, knowing they will never truly be lost.

What I do know is this: I’m a lot like my Dad. I probably say “what’ya know” more often than I realize. I know I’m always asking my kids and grandkids “what’ya know?” about random stuff and important stuff, too. They’re more tolerant than I am (or I’m oblivious to their dismissiveness). Either way, I’m fine.

I just want them to know what I do know: that I care about what they’re doing and that I love them. I’m often amazed at how brilliant they are: “What’d ya know, my oldest granddaughter is learning welding! What’d ya know, another granddaughter is learning French and has all A’s in her high school classes!”

I have a fun plaque in my home office that reads: “Ask Dad – he knows everything!” Well, I don’t, but I appreciate the sentiment. I don’t even know where I got the plaque. Or if it was a gift or something that I claimed from my Dad’s belongings. I doesn’t matter. I just hope my kids and grandkids occasionally ask me what I know (I might even have an answer worthy of their time) and I pray that they will continue to allow me to ask them what they know. Their wealth of knowledge is a treasure.

And as I continue to marvel at what I don’t know and exclaim, “What’d ya know!” at my discoveries I will rejoice in my newfound knowledge. I will thank God for new memories as I tuck them away for safe keeping with the old ones.

Peace,

Denis

Hear, my son, your father’s instruction. Proverbs 1:8

Entertaining Angels

/ Denis Wilhelm / 2 Comments

Today the divisions in our country and in our churches and in our families are daunting. No time in my life have I experienced such anger and resentment; such righteousness and chauvinism. It seems that we are so busy drawing lines in the sand that we have forsaken our fellow humans. Gatherings are tenuous. Conversations are avoided. Neighbors are ignored. Friends and family are neglected.

As I often do, when confronted with things beyond my ken, I search for the wisdom of others. My friend Sherry always finds the good in others. She is an example of God’s never-ending love for us. She forgives completely. And I have been the humble recipient of her forgiveness. My grandchildren, aged 6 to 17, look at our world with such hopefulness. It is impossible not to share their joy and their dreams of a better world. I want to join them on that journey. I have close friends with which I share no political opinions nor affiliations (and we likely routinely cancel one another’s votes) yet we remain respectful, devoted and loving.

This summer I had the opportunity to serve at a food pantry alongside my teenage granddaughter and my pre-teen grandson. I was proud of them and their willingness to give to others. But what truly astounded me was their ease and comfort on that day. They truly gave of themselves – respectful and loving to all they encountered. Their enthusiasm and joy was contagious. On the drive home they recounted their day with thoughtfulness and wondered aloud why life was unfair for so many people. Never once did they judge any of the clientele. Never once did they gloat nor mention how fortunate they were to not be one in need. Instead they were thankful for having been given an opportunity to serve.

Those two saw the good in each person. And once again, they taught me a valuable lesson. I need to stop looking for the differences in others. I need to let go of my need to be on “the right side”. I need to look in the mirror and find that speck of goodness that my loved ones have found. And ask God to forgive me when I fail to share that goodness and miss another opportunity to entertain an angel.

Peace,

Denis

Do not neglect hospitality, for through it some have unknowingly entertained angels. Hebrews 13:2