Relating to Worldly Concerns

It’s the second week of Advent and I’m feeling the pressure to be more holy (or holy at all, in my case). So, I’m lighting my Advent wreath and reflecting on how to celebrate our Savior’s birth. How do I put aside my anxiety regarding the political rancor in our country? How do I deal with the grief of losing my best friend, fear for a dear friend who is battling a painful recovery from surgery and concern for a toddler from our parish who is facing serious health issues? Do I just put on my “Happy Christmas Face” and suck it up? I fear l that my celebration of Christmas this year might feel ingenuine.

Most importantly, can I love God and love our modern (sometimes tacky) celebration of Christmas, too? Must they be mutually exclusive? Merriam-Webster defines the word secular as: Relating to worldly concerns; not overtly or specifically religious. That doesn’t sound so menacing to me. And yet I’m constantly hearing about the evils of the secular world in which we live. It seems that I am bombarded with warnings about being consumed by our secular society. On the first Sunday of Advent, we were admonished for placing gift-giving, holiday decorating, and Santa Claus before Christ. Somehow those things are equated with secularism and by association deemed contrary to what Christmas should really be about.

Often, I think that we get so caught up in protecting our traditions we forget that some of our most sacred Christian celebrations – Easter and Christmas were placed on the calendar to take advantage of earlier non-Christian feasts. People were already partying at the spring and winter equinoxes so why not just slip Christ’s resurrection and birth into those time slots? Did we in fact Christianize earlier pagan feasts? I don’t know – maybe. But who cares? Is Christ’s birth and life on Earth less significant if he wasn’t actually born on December 25th? Is His resurrection any less meaningful because of when we celebrate?

Living in the world today, spending too much money on silly Christmas presents and decorating a tree doesn’t define our belief in Christ any more than the likelihood that we celebrate His birth on what was once a pagan feast day. In addition, pretending that everything is perfect seems foolish because no one I know has a Hallmark® Christmas where everyone falls in love and the snow falls on cue. Most of us are dealing with some hurt or fear or uncertainty. But here’s the thing, we can lay that hurt and those fears at the foot of the Cross.

I know that “Jesus is the reason for the season” but as a Christian I believe that He’s also the reason there’s a world to live in. Sometimes it’s messy and confusing. I won’t pretend that everything is okay, but I have time for tears and laughter, too. Knowing that Jesus walked among us in this world, I will relate to it the best that I can.

It just so happens that some of his creation likes a little tinsel, eggnog and “Jingle Bells” blasting from their iPhones. I suspect that God is not offended but merely amused when I’m “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” or when we finally finish decorating our 4th Christmas Tree (that’s right, four!). And for the record, in our house, we all sing “O Come O Come Emmanuel” at the dinner table after lighting our Advent wreath, too. Somehow it works because love is at the center of it all.

The Lord is patient with you, not wishing that any should perish but that all should come to repentance.  2 Peter 3:9

Peace,

Denis

Fearful, confused, yet still hopeful

When our son Blake was a boy, I worried more about him than his older brother and sister. This was the child that questioned everything and needed to have answers that were more than the standard “because I said so”.

When he was about seven years old, he disassembled the lamp in his room. When I him asked why, he told me that he was trying to see how it worked. After conversations about electrical currency and positivity and negativity and his serious risk of shock, he said that he would put the lamp back together. I doubt that I answered his questions about how electricity worked but he relented. He was inquisitive; I was afraid. He had sleepless nights worrying about his brother’s Jewish friend when he learned in kindergarten that Jesus was our Savior. What about his brother’s friend? Would he not get into heaven? I was flummoxed; he was afraid. When Blake would play outside, I kept a keen eye on him. He would climb trees and fences and perform other feats of derring-do. Always challenging the limits of physics and gravity, he was his own test subject. I would shout, “Be careful, or you’ll skin your innis.” His embarrassed and astonished response was often, “What’s an innis?” My response was always the same: “You’ll know when you skin it!” Our little game became a ritual, but it reinforced our fear, confusion and ultimate hopefulness. Somehow, embracing his fears while looking for answers, time and time again he would survey the risks, do it again and survive. And I would I gain another gray hair.

Recently I attended a meeting with a group of thoughtful people struggling with our current political situation in the United States. The stated purpose of our gatherings is to find transforming grace; to establish practices that will help us journey toward that grace. For me, there have been a few roadblocks. The current ‘us against them’ sentiment in our country makes it hard for me to reach beyond my own feelings; my own needs; my own fears. Politicians seem to be telling me that I should vote for or support a candidate or a position “because I told you so.” I am not okay with that.

I’m taking a page out of young Blake’s playbook. I’m going to push past my fears. I’m going to try to get to the truth. And I’m going to continue to love others with whom I disagree. It might take some feats of derring-do, but I’ll state my positions and put that bumper sticker on my car. I’ll listen. I’ll debate. I’ll pray, I’ll vote my conscience.

At the end of the day, I’m still afraid of the risk of losing our democracy. I’m confused why there is so much hate in our world, especially in the name of God. But I’m hopeful because many of the young people that I know are not afraid of immigrants or diversity or change. They were allowed as children to swing from those trees and jump off those fences. And when they fell and “skinned their innises” they got up and tried again. I might be overly optimistic, but I believe that truth and love will prevail.

Peace,

Denis

Put a Woman in Charge

I’ve been blessed to have some extraordinary women in my life, not the least of which is my best friend and soul mate, Debbie. We’ve shared equally in good times and bad. Carrying one another or being carried by the other as needed. Our life together has proven time and time again that she is my equal. She is simply unafraid. She is love and pure joy, but she is also tough and resilient and relentless when necessary. She has taught me that tears don’t make you weak and laughter is truly the best medicine (especially when you need to laugh at yourself). And she has instilled the same spirit and strength and humor in our daughter.

Bess, our beautiful and gracious daughter, has also inherited her mother’s gift of charity. 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.

We have four beautiful granddaughters. They each have so much to offer. I already see their potential and I am able to see into the future because of them, and it will be equal and fair.

Of course, I’ve known and loved many other strong women. In fact, I believe that in my family the female role models are the ones that stand out as the true leaders.

My Mom ran the show at her house. She knew more about politics, current events, and style than most women of her generation. For someone who was not afforded an education she was smarter than most other women and Dad certainly knew not to mess with Mom. She was not large, but she was in charge. Even on her deathbed she was calling the shots. She took care of us until the end, making us laugh to ease our grief at her passing.

My Mom’s sisters, my three aunts, Lucida, Noel and Gene Marie, were Sisters of the Most Precious Blood. These were intelligent women who were well-traveled and well-educated, not something offered to most women born in the 1910’s and 1920’s. They were teachers, administrators, catechists, authors, and persons of authority. They were our family’s “Blessed Trinity”.

The stories of my great-grandmother Elizabeth are legendary: Coming to this country alone as a teenager from Germany. Marrying and then raising her young family alone after my great-grandfather died. I’m told that she was tough, stubborn and a force to be reckoned with. And my great-great-grandmother Mary converted the entire family to Catholicism back when women had no say in such matters.

My three great aunts Marie, Minnie, and Liddy lived together in the family home that became the base of operations for all Wilhelm family gatherings. Aunt Minnie was a businesswoman – the County Nurse’s secretary. And she was well-respected in our hometown. I remember walking downtown with her many times and people would greet her very politely as “Miss Wilhelm”. I was always so proud to be with my Aunt Min!

And then of course there was my mother-in-law. She was a tough lady who fought for justice and looked out for the underdogs in our world. She was fiercely loyal to those she loved, and she protected her children like a lioness. She taught her daughter that real beauty requires confidence, kindness and a sense of humor. Jackie never went down without a fight. I’m not sure if you can “raise hell” in heaven, but if you can I’m sure she’s leading the charge.

When I reflect on my spirituality, I realize that it was my mother who first taught me how to pray. It was her model of faith that I continue to follow to this day. It was my Godmother’s hand that I held when I received Jesus at my First Holy Communion. It was my three Aunts who modeled compassion for those in need and service to God through service to others as Precious Blood Sisters. It is my wife who models patience, love and social awareness. It is my daughter who teaches me to show kindness to children by her example as a Catholic Educator. And it is my granddaughters who model unconditional love by even loving me, a cranky, opinionated, old guy. These women and girls proclaim The Good News to me each day. Author Joelle Chase wrote, “Mary 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.

Let’s embrace the power of women. Let’s “man up” and put a woman in charge.

Peace,

Denis

Put Me in Coach

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

Offer It Up

When I was a kid, and I had an ache or pain or was dealing with some perceived injustice, my mom would tell me to, “Offer it up for the poor souls in purgatory”. Those weren’t exactly the words of comfort that I was hoping for. Regardless of what she was saying, I often heard, “Suck it up, buttercup.” And I’m not certain that the poor souls in purgatory ever received any relief from my prayers of self-pity.

Mom was probably just tired of hearing complaints from all of us, but she taught me three things with her wisdom: First – pray; prayer always helps. Second – quit whining; nobody likes a bellyacher. Third – There is always someone in this world dealing with more pain than I am/was.

I often still find myself grumbling about something/someone/sometime that I must endure. Some disappointment. Some irritation. Some burden. When I find myself in those situations, I can clearly hear Mom’s voice: “Offer it up!” And I try. And try again. And again.

Usually, it’s my friends on this journey of life who make me realize how ridiculous my bitching and moaning is compared to their circumstances. So, after a few moments (days) of self-pity I remember to pray and thank God for the gifts I have and the witness of these friends with which I am blessed.

A dear friend is recovering from a post-operative infection which has slowed her recovery and sidelined her work life but has not diminished her spirit. An indefatigable young mother who I know is battling cancer. She is the strongest and most positive person I know and is using her own battle as a model for others. A friend of nearly 50 years takes her struggle with MS in stride (literally – as each step is painful) and she continually gives to others until it hurts. These are my heroes.

I needn’t look much further to find other friends, neighbors and acquaintances dealing with any number of challenges. The pain from accidents, illness, violence, unemployment, and grief can be overwhelming and can potentially destroy our spirits. Still, these individuals carry on. They pick up the pieces and make the best of what life has handed them. More heroes.

I know that some pain cannot be prayed or wished away. I realize that none of us can be truly prepared for what the future holds. There will likely be heartache and unbearable sadness but there will also always be a shoulder to lean on. There will always be a hand to hold. There will always be someone to dry your tears. There will always be love.

And perhaps the best way to “offer up” my pain/my disappointment/my bad day is to be the shoulder, the hand holder, tear-dryer, and the lover when I can.

Peace,

Denis

For it is in giving that we receive – Francis of Assisi

I Don’t Want To…

I have a plaque in my office that reads, “LOVE GOD. LOVE OTHERS.” Sometimes it brings me great comfort. It reminds me of the friend who gave it to me, which brings a smile to my heart. It helps me remember to be kind. To love.

But honestly, sometimes it annoys me with its sanguine message. Often it challenges me. I don’t want to love others. Most days, I want to be angry, cynical and self-righteous. Love others? Even that obnoxious checker at The Neighborhood Walmart? The kid next door with the diesel truck rumbling at 5:30 AM? The lady at Mass on Sunday who informed me that she didn’t want any children sitting next to her, as I was trying to usher a family to their pew? My political adversaries? The guy at The Home Depot who couldn’t manage to control his dog from getting too friendly with my backside? Bad drivers? I don’t want to love any of those “others”!

As often happens, I stop and realize how foolish I am. As I reflect on my pride and stubbornness and a God who forgives me, I know that I can and must love others, even those annoying so-and-sos. Because many of them have loved me. And God always loves me even when I fail to love in return.

For years we have laughed about the time our grandson Noah, who was three or four years old, didn’t want to wear a collared shirt because in his tearful words, “I don’t want to be fancy!”. He didn’t want to get dressed up for whatever the occasion. He wanted to stay in his play clothes. He didn’t want to be stifled. He wanted to stay in his comfort zone. Getting “fancy” was going to challenge his very existence. You can’t run or throw a ball or tumble on the ground in a collared shirt. Despite his protests, he indeed wore that shirt and somehow, he survived it all. In truth, I would have caved in and let him wear what he wanted but his parents taught him a lesson that day. One that I am struggling to learn.

So today, I will try again to love others. It’s easy to love my family and friends. It’s easy to love those who share my values and my beliefs. It’s easy to love people in need who I see on the news or on social media. They’re distant and untouchable. It’s easy to love people through donations to charitable organizations. I’m shielded from their pain and suffering.

The tough ones to love are the family across the street who don’t keep their yard tidy; the lady who runs the red light; the Congressman who refuses to answer my emails; the person who pushed in front of me at the checkout counter; the family member who I no longer speak to because of political differences; the woman who loudly used profanity in a very crowded public place. And the man that I sometimes see in the mirror.

“I don’t want to…” But I’m trying. Loving others might make me uncomfortable at times. It certainly will push me out of my comfort zone. Loving those with whom I disagree doesn’t mean I have to abandon my beliefs. It might just free me to love more deeply, even if I shed a few tears in the process.

Thanks for the lesson, Noah.

Peace,

Denis

Be Afraid?

Politicians seem to be great fear mongers. So is Big Pharma, the NRA, those folks who are selling home security and identity theft protection, lots of media personalities and some clergy members. Fear can be a powerful tool; just look at any political ad. Listen to any talk radio or cable news host, watch any television commercial or attend a church service and you likely be warned about some impending evil – life is scary but if you vote for me, buy my product, or follow my religion, you will be safe (or safer anyway). Fear is an excellent marketing tool. Fear has also fueled hate and prejudice. Fear has gotten us into wars. Fear begets fear. Be afraid – be very afraid!

We should be afraid of some things. We should fear demagogues and dictators and hold on with all our might to our democracy, but not be afraid to have meaningful discourse with those whom we disagree. We should fear for the safety of our children and protect them but not to the point where we refuse to let them experience life to its fullest. We should be afraid of communicable diseases and take necessary precautions to limit them, but not live in isolation. We should fear for our planet and promote ecology but still continue to fish our waters and hunt our wildlife in a sustainable manner.

I refuse to be ruled by fear, I will not buy your product, listen to your propaganda or read your book because of some vague threat of evil or danger despite your warnings. I will not buy into your fear game. And I will not follow your religion or your rules because of some fear of hell.

Instead, I will hold my head high and embrace the good in this world. I will take an active role in promoting peace and justice (if only in my small circle of influence). I will love God and be thankful for life in all its forms. I want to be a role model to my grandchildren. I want them to explore the world and all its wonder and be forces for good. I want them to be ambassadors of goodwill; agents for positive change; lovers of justice and protectors of our planet.

Sometimes we have to stand up for what is right and sing our song. If we join our voices in harmony, the fear will be abated. When we face our fears together, we can find the courage to shout down the hate and inequality around us. Some will take the lead; some will follow; and still others will stand silent.

But together we should never let fear motivate us. Only love should.

Peace,

Denis

Let It Be

The angel said to her, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. Therefore, the child to be born will be called holy, the Son of God.” Mary said, “Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord. Let it be done to me according to your word.”

Often this passage from Luke’s Gospel conjures images of a submissive Mary. A young woman who is overwhelmed and helpless to understand what is being asked of her. Certainly, Mary would have not expected a visit from an angel, and she probably was startled by the announcement. But to me, her response is not that of a weak or frightened child but instead that of a strong woman who appears steadfast in her convictions. Mary believed in God. Mary allowed God to work through her without hesitation. Perhaps she understood more than the Gospel tells us.

Any mother will tell you that the love of her child is primal and inexplicable. Mary’s love would have been no less than that of any mother. She would likely have been concerned about bringing a child into the politically turbulent world in which she lived, not to mention the very unconventional way that she found herself with child. And yet her love overshadowed any insecurities she may have had. Mary is a model for all of us. Mary took an active role in God’s plan. She wasn’t just a vessel. She didn’t just submit. She stood tall at His cradle and at His cross. And proved that love conquers all!

Christmas comes with hope of renewal. Christmas raises our expectations of peace and goodwill. Friends and families unite. Celebrations take place. Joy is proclaimed throughout the world.

But Christmas itself doesn’t end hunger, or war, or poverty, or terrorism, or racism, or homophobia or violence, or human trafficking, or all other injustices. Still, Christ comes at Christmas and we are reminded by Mary that if we believe in God and take an active role in His plan, we can bring peace to our world. Let it be me who takes a stand; performs a small act of kindness; who makes a small sacrifice for another. Let it be me who shares a smile; who speaks a kind word; gives a gentle touch. These things multiplied by the millions as we proclaim our Christmas joy will transform our world.

And so, I ask God, “Let it be” me who helps make a difference this year.

Peace,

Denis

Prepare the Way

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

Someone To Lean On

The last few weeks have held their share of joys and sorrows. Desperation and hope. Doubt and faith. This is life.

Our granddaughter had surgery to correct a bone disorder that she was born with but only discovered after a waterskiing accident this summer. This surgery will have to be repeated on her right arm after her left arm heals. The blessing is that this was discovered and can be corrected while she is still young. She’s a tough little girl who has a positive attitude but multiple surgeries and recovery is daunting for an active 13-year-old. And it is my prerogative to worry and pray. And pray and worry.

We hosted a dinner party for friends and it was so good to have a reunion of sorts after more than a year of social distancing and postponements. Much needed love and laughter and food and wine was shared. More prayers – those of thanksgiving!

My cousin Michelle passed away. Michelle was a gentle soul who managed to find the good in everyone and everything. She was a model of unconditional love. She loved humans, animals, nature, and me. I hope her mother and her siblings find comfort in knowing that we have another angel in heaven. And I hope that they are held up by the prayers being sent their way. Anne Lamott wrote, “You will lose someone you can’t live without, and your heart will be badly broken, and the bad news is that you never completely get over the loss of your beloved. But this is also the good news. They live forever in your broken heart that doesn’t seal back up. And you come through. It’s like having a broken leg that never heals perfectly—that still hurts when the weather gets cold, but you learn to dance with the limp.”

Our dear friends celebrated a 40th wedding anniversary. Joy, joy, joy! What a wonderful celebration of their journey that has touched so many lives. I thank God for their friendship and for their example of a faith-filled marriage.

My 95-year-old father is struggling with dementia and age-related health issues. I had a tough visit with him recently. I failed him because instead of showing compassion, I was more concerned with his forgetfulness. Instead of meeting his needs I was focused on his appearance and his behavior. Fortunately I was able to lean on my brother and sister who shared my concerns and forgave my short-sightedness.

Faith in God is not easy. What is easy is to explain away all of our hardships and struggles and sadness as random acts in a world full of chaos. What is easy is to accept that some folks will always have better luck/money/position than me. What is hard is to find solace in times of sorrow and desperation in a God who at times feels very distant. Sometimes it’s challenging to find joy in others’ happiness when you are feeling overwhelmed with your own difficulties. But this is the essence of faith. I learned a long time ago through trial and error to stop looking for God in the stars. To stop praying to the clouds. God is in my friends. God is in my family. And when I look deeply (this is the really hard part) I can find God in me.

A good friend shared this truth with me: “The road to the empty tomb is rocky.”

I’ll keep stumbling along my way, and I may need to lean on some of you once in a while.

Peace,

Denis