Love is the Answer (so what’s the question?)

Christmas 03My son Blake tells me that he’s pretty sure we are all one consciousness.  The universe experiencing itself; a pulse experienced through different hardware.  He believes that unconditional love is the answer but what is the question?

He and I sometimes have these existential kinds of conversations.  What is the meaning of life? Is there a God?  Or is it all some elaborate myth?  Were we “created” or do we exist because of some cosmic happenstance?  Do we need God?  Does God need us?

It makes me think.  And wonder.  And pray.  And sometimes I wonder as I pray.

People behave badly.  We murder.  We rape.  We abuse children.  We discriminate based on religion, race, gender, ethnicity, and sexual orientation.  We arm ourselves.  We build walls.  We exploit the most vulnerable amongst us.

Genesis tells us:  God said: Let us make human beings in our image, after our likeness.  But if ‘God is love’ why is there so much un-Godlike behavior happening in our world.  If God made us in his (her) image why aren’t we loving one another?  Why aren’t we lifting one another up?  Why aren’t we caring for one another?

And then I crawl out of my hole and look around.  I see every little loving thing that my wife does each day for me and countless others.  I see my friends who have often lifted me up during times of heartache and self-doubt. I  realize that I am cared for not just by friends and family but by strangers who work for peace and justice in our world.

My grandson Noah asked me recently, “Pawpaw, do you know what zeal is?”  Before I could offer a definition he exclaimed, “It’s how God loves us and how God wants us to love others!”  And I realize then that we do!  We do love one another.  We do lift each other. We do care for one another.  Not always.  Not all of us.  Not often enough.  But we do!

And perhaps that’s the question – why not always; why not all of us; why not often enough?  Unconditional love is the answer.  God was once again revealed to me through my seven year-old grandson.  God is in the love we share; in the countless times that Noah has lifted me up from my gloominess and my self-pity; all the times that we have cared for one another.  Noah full of zeal!  Blake too has loved me and lifted me with his kindness; his sincerity; his goodwill.  These two (uncle and nephew) come from very different places – physically and spiritually but God is there – loving; lifting; caring.

Evil exists.  Bad things happen.  But that’s not the end of the story.  God has given us power over evil.  We just need to share the gift of Love.  Perhaps then others will ask the question – why not always?  why not all of us?  why not often enough?

Peace,

Denis

 

Uber Confessions

I travel in business quite a bit. In my travels I use Uber, which is a ride-sharing or private taxi service. Uber drivers use their own vehicles and provide quick convenient service. Typically the cars are clean, well-maintained and the drivers are safe and courteous.

Because these individuals are not professional taxi drivers their manner is often casual and friendly. What has surprised me most is what these drivers have shared about their personal lives. And why?

Many drivers tell me where they were born and where they now live. Several have told me about their jobs (besides being an Uber driver). Most will share details about their families – married, single, divorced, children, etc. At times I feel like a guidance counselor or a therapist or a confessor.

I had one driver who expounded on his misogynistic and racist points of view, sighting books and Alt-Right websites and publications. Initially I ignored him but finally I asked him to please stop. I think he was offended that I was offended.

I had a driver tell me in detail about her physically ill mother and her emotionally ill daughter who had recently lost custody of her children. I could only manage to say “I’m sorry” and “Gosh that’s tough”. At 5:00 in the morning I hadn’t the necessary wisdom or empathy to meet her needs.

Another driver told me that he and his brother “rapped” and although he wasn’t a professional rapper and hadn’t recorded any of his songs, he was nonetheless very talented. I was spared any spontaneous performances. I took him at his word for how immensely talented he is. And I suppose I just look like someone who would really appreciate a well-rapped verse or two.

One driver, who appeared to be in his nineties complained that people don’t seem to have any respect for one another these days (which I agreed) and then he proceeded to rant for the entire trip about women drivers, Asian drivers, stupid kids on the road, those assholes on bicycles (his words-not mine), truck drivers and various and assorted other “road hogs”. When we arrived, he told me that he really enjoyed our conversation. I don’t believe I spoke a word.

One female driver kept a video playing continually that monitored the front and rear doors of her home because her twelve year-old son was alone and they lived in a neighborhood prone to gang violence and frequent break-ins. Her son’s father lived nearby and had a gun which apparently she found reassuring. I just kept saying, “Wow!” and “I know what you mean” even though I had no idea what any of it meant.

desmondtutu1-2xI had a driver who was from India and we spoke about Indian food that I have eaten and loved but he laughed out loud every time I spoke and nothing I said was truly funny. Maybe it was the way I pronounced chicken tikka masala (I’ll never know). We laughed and laughed!

My latest driver shared a heart breaking account of his girlfriend (bi-polar) and their living arrangements (homeless off-and-on) and his recreational drug use (I was assured he was drug-free that day). I couldn’t help wonder how he afforded the car he was driving but I thought it prudent not to ask. I tried not to think about whether he was high while driving but I was thankful when we safely reached my destination.

It has occurred to me that these drivers are part of God’s creation. They have a need to tell their stories – we all do. Perhaps just listening is the gift I can give to them. I’m not condoning racism or drug abuse or 90 year-old crankiness but I’m not here to judge either. I should be listening for God’s voice in theirs and returning God’s love to them in my limited ability and perhaps that can be part of my story.

And it wouldn’t kill me to give them a tip once in awhile…

Peace,

Denis

See what love the Father has bestowed on us that we may be called the children of God. Yet so we are. The reason the world does not know us is that it did not know him. 1 John 3:1

 

 

Drenched In Love

Recently one of the members of our small faith group shared this insight: When dealing with our enemies, we should try to “drench them with love”.

dancin_in_the_rainFor me the imagery is almost overwhelming. The thought of torrents of water descending upon me is easy to envision. While walking in a warm spring rain, initially I will attempt to stay dry under an umbrella, or run, as if I can somehow elude the raindrops. Ultimately my efforts become futile. I finally embrace the rain and the idea of being completely saturated. I stop fighting it. I stop running. I put away the umbrella. I accept the downpour. I surrender. I am drenched.

And it’s exhilarating.

So much more is true of love. I am drenched in love. Every day, in countless ways, I am drenched by the love of others as they freely pour their love over me. What a blessing. What a gift. To be loved. To be drenched in love. And it has changed me. I am a better husband because of the love of my wife. I am a better father because of the love of my children. I am a better man because of the love of my friends.

What if some of my enemies are loving me?  Perhaps I am blessed to be loved by someone who I have determined to be unlovable or unworthy of my time or attention. Maybe it’s time for me to truly listen to the words of my friend and try to “drench my enemies with love”.

As with most challenges in my life, I know my limitations. I’m not going to start by trying to “drench” ISIS or Ann Coulter with love. I’ll start small. I’ll try to “drench” that annoying co-worker and the smart-ass kid down the street who drives too fast. I’ll attempt to “drench” the guy at the gym who hogs the equipment. I’ll “drench” the lady at the dry cleaners who assumes that we share the same political views (we don’t). And I’ll try to “drench” our associate pastor who I can barely stand to be in the same church with on most Sundays.

Sister Viola Marie, loving our enemies is a tough call. Drenching them with love will definitely be an uphill climb. But I’m going to try. And I know that God will be laughing at my weak attempts when I fail. And I know that you’ll keep pouring your love over me even when I’m a failure.

Peace,

Denis

 

Hope For The Future

I have a friend (truth be told, she’s my daughter’s friend but because I have an awesome daughter, she shares her friends with me and I’m the better for it). This mother of two young daughters recently witnessed a pretty severe auto accident. I believe she, with her daughters in the car, came upon the scene pretty soon after it had happened. It was obvious, to Mom anyway, that this was an accident with serious injuries perhaps even fatalities. Because traffic was stalled to allow emergency and police assistance, their view of the accident was prolonged. To the credit of the emergency personnel the victims of the crash were shielded from curious onlookers.

kindnessWhile contemplating the gravity of the situation, the 8 year-old daughter began to pray the “Hail Mary”. 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. This act of kindness was not prompted by Mom nor was it in any way expected. Mom’s concern at that moment was protecting her daughters from viewing possible carnage. What happened next was the five year-old daughter praying an “Our Father” or the “Lord’s Prayer” for those strangers on the roadside. Again unprompted and unexpected. Those beautiful girls witnessed to their mother in a simple yet profound way.

This story gives me hope for our future.

In the atmosphere of contentious and nasty political battles, where we have to shield our children and grandchildren from each news story or risk the possibility of having to explain why someone would say or do what is being reported. In a time where communities are torn apart due to racism and poverty, in a world where we live in fear of terrorism, it is comforting to know that these two young girls brought Jesus to those strangers on the roadside. They didn’t need to know who they might be voting for; they didn’t need to verify the color of their skin or their religious affiliation; it didn’t matter if the inured were young or old or rich or poor. These girls gave of themselves without any expectation of repayment or reward.

“A man fell victim to robbers as he went down from Jerusalem to Jericho. They stripped and beat him and went off leaving him half-dead. A priest happened to be going down that road, but when he saw him, he passed by on the opposite side. Likewise a Levite came to the place, and when he saw him, he passed by on the opposite side. But a Samaritan traveler who came upon him was moved with compassion at the sight. He approached the victim, poured oil and wine over his wounds and bandaged them. Then he lifted him up on his own animal, took him to an inn and cared for him. The next day he took out two silver coins and gave them to the innkeeper with the instruction, ‘Take care of him. If you spend more than what I have given you, I shall repay you on my way back.’ Which of these three, in your opinion, was neighbor to the robbers’ victim?” He answered, “The one who treated him with mercy.” Jesus said to him, “Go and do likewise.”  Luke 10:30-37

We can continue to hate. We can live in fear. We can choose sides. We can fight and fight and fight…

Or we can love. Thanks for the beautiful example girls and for giving me hope again.

Peace,

Denis

Trying To Be A Peacemaker

As a ‘Partner in Mission’ with the Sisters of the Most Precious Blood in O’Fallon, Missouri, I have made a commitment to be a reconciling presence in our world. This (for me) is a daily struggle.

Our world today is wracked with hatred and violence. Extremism, racism, elitism, sexism and terrorism is daily headline news. The moral, economic and political divisions in our country alone seem to be greater than any other time in my adult life.

So here I am joined with the “Sisters” in hopes of bringing the reconciling love of Jesus to our world through prayer, service and presence. At times this feels overwhelming and futile. How can I be a peacemaker when I can’t get along with my co-workers and neighbors? How do I even begin to reach out to those who don’t share my values? And what about all those folks that I’ve decided to dislike – for their political affiliations or beliefs? What about people that I’ve discounted due to their lack of education or worth (in my opinion)? What about the ones that I hate simply because of how they talk or look or where they live or who they love? peace

 

How can I, a flawed and sinful man, become a peacemaker? This won’t be easy, but I believe that I must begin with me. To “reconcile” means to rebuild; reconnect; to be at peace. I’ll have to try to be more loving; more caring; more respectful; and less judgmental. I’ll have to shut my mouth and open my ears and more importantly my heart.

And I’m sure that I will fail more often than I succeed. But I’m encouraged by the simple fact that every life makes a difference. I will look for the divine in everyone that I encounter. After all we are made in God’s image. Love is easy to give when it’s received in kind. I’m going to try to love with no hope of love in return. And maybe, just maybe, somewhere along the way I may bring peace to at least one other person. It’s a start.

God created mankind in his image; in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them. Genesis 1:27

And my journey continues…

Peace,

Denis

P.S. To know more about being a Partner with the Sisters of The Most Precious Blood click on the link: http://cpps-ofallon.org/ministries/partners-in-mission/

 

 

Old Man Walking

On the journey with a companion

On the journey with a companion

I walk a lot. I try to get up each morning and walk 4 miles around a nearby lake. When I’m traveling or on vacation, I’ll walk the beach or in a park. Not bad for a 61 year-old I suppose. I do it to stay physically fit but lately I find that it probably benefits my mental and spiritual fitness even more than my tired, old-ish body.

What I have discovered on my sunrise walks is that other walkers (and runners, and cyclists) aren’t likely to make eye contact. I know that we live in a world of fear; we’re afraid of terrorists; we’re afraid of violent crimes; we’re afraid of sexual predators; we’re afraid of identity theft; we’re afraid of yet-to-be-named diseases; we’re afraid of immigrants; we’re afraid of other religions; we’re afraid of other cultures; we’re afraid of people who don’t look (or act) like us. Some of these fears are legitimate; some I believe are heightened by political interests and hatred.

But I live (and walk) in the squeaky-clean suburbs. And there should really be very little to fear. My fellow walkers should certainly have no fear of me. I’m startled by the occasional bunny rabbit or squirrel that will dart across the trail. And I might cringe if I see a snake slither past or if a frog jumps out of the weeds but other people don’t make me afraid. And I will do no harm to them.

Recently I’ve tried to say “good morning” or “hello” to anyone who dares to make eye contact with me on my morning jaunts. The reactions and responses have been interesting. Some will offer a downcast or sideways glance with a feeble “hi”, as if to protect themselves from whatever evil may be lurking behind my benign-looking, grandfatherly exterior. Others look away quickly with no response at all. Some will actually return a friendly “good morning” or “hello”. The runners and joggers are usually very serious about their business, as if pausing for a quick glance might somehow throw off their body rhythms. The cyclists are often struggling to keep their balance or speed (or whatever) and seem incapable of the multi-tasking required to say anything while riding – I might get a nod. Older folks like myself are twice as likely to smile and acknowledge me. Young women (and perhaps rightly so) often avoid eye contact and stay focused on their exercise (and I suppose keep a ready hand on their can of mace). Young men are the least likely to speak or even look at me (probably dreading the likelihood that they might be staring at their futures).

Walking has given me the opportunity to S L OW  D O W N and appreciate the sunrise. To thank God for creation. It helps me clear my head and prepare for my day. It allows me quiet time to pray and be thankful for this journey of life. I like to see the flowers (and weeds) along the trail. I enjoy seeing the squirrels and rabbits and frogs and yes, even the occasional snake. I would never notice those things while driving. But mostly I’m grateful for the few friendly human encounters I have each day.

Some of us who are regular walkers (or runners) have now also become regular “smilers” and “hello-ers”. I’d like to think that this ‘old man walking’ has had some small part in that. I’ll keep smiling and hello-ing. Who knows? The smile that I share might be the only smile that one of my fellow walkers will receive the entire day. Kindness given is always returned.

And none of us is a stranger to God.

Peace,

Denis

First Holy Communion

Our granddaughter Anna will make her First Communion on Sunday. This is a big deal for Catholic families. It’s a coming-of-age in a young person’s spiritual life. A very young person. Anna is just eight years old and is truly a holy innocent. Her world is full of rainbows and butterflies. She ALWAYS sees the good in everyone and she is absolutely astounded when someone is deliberately unkind. She is a good girl. Actually, she is more than just a good girl, she is a perfect little girl. Smart, sweet, loving, kind and full of joy.

Anna and Nana

           Nana & Anna

As Catholics we believe that we receive Jesus in the Eucharist. Anna has prepared with her class and prayed with her family and now the time has come. She may not feel much different afterwards but I suspect she will recognize that God has blessed her in a special way on her First Communion day. Anna will be changed.

And the rest of us? We will all be blessed on her First Communion day. There will be a party with extended family and friends after the mass but the real celebration will take place as she walks up that aisle to receive the Eucharist for the first time. But that’s not enough, we must receive and believe, too. We become changed.

We have a big word in Catholicism – transubstantiation. It means that by consecration of the bread and wine there takes place a change of the whole substance of the bread into the substance of the body of Christ and of the whole substance of the wine into the substance of his blood. Sounds a little heady but the idea is simple. We consume Christ and we are changed. We receive the Christ who makes us one with himself and with one another. Not alone, but in community, we become the Body of Christ. The words the priest says during the consecration is only part of it. Not until the Eucharist is shared with the congregation does transubstantiation truly take place.

Eucharist is the great equalizer. Sinners and saints. Rich and poor. Young and old. We all come to the altar. We receive and we are changed. We become Christ to one another.

I know that this Sunday will be a special day for Anna. My prayer is that every Sunday after this one will also be special for her as she becomes part of the Body of Christ. She is already an example of God’s overwhelming love for us. And my blessings continue…

Peace,

Denis

He  broke the bread and said, “This is my body that is for you. Do this in remembrance of me.” In the same way also the cup, after supper, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me.” 1 Corinthians 11:24-25

 

Second Chances and then some…

We all fail. Some of us catastrophically. Some of us daily. But trying again – ‘getting back up on that horse’, ‘picking ourselves up and shaking off the dust’, ‘going back to the drawing board’ – however you want to say it. It’s worthwhile. (Hopefully) we all learn from our failures. If nothing else we can learn humility. And God knows this world could use a bit more of that.

A second chance can change everything.

Even jerks can be forgiven

Even jerks get second chances (I should know)

Humbled by my mistakes I might be more considerate of others failings. Or I might learn to be more patient with myself. Often I’m reminded by my failures that I am a ‘work in progress’. Sometimes it’s just a subtle reminder that I’m not really in charge of anything other than how I react to the circumstances of my life. Other times I’m slapped with the reality that I just really screwed up! It’s those ‘screwing up’ times that resonate with me. I try not to spend too much time or energy on the coulda-shoulda-woulda stuff. Instead I thank God for the second (or third or fourth, etc., etc.) chance I’m being given and promise to do better.

I marvel as I watch my grandkids learning things for the first time. I am amazed at how hard they try to succeed – in school; in sports; in life. I cherish sharing some of the adventures that shape their young lives. And I pray that they will be afforded as many second chances as this old mistake-maker has been given. I have said “I am sorry” more times than I could count but I have heard “you are forgiven” even more.

During Lent I am reminded that it is a time to share my sorrow. And a time to be forgiven. And be gifted with yet another second chance.

Peace,

Denis

There once was a person who had a fig tree planted in his orchard, and when he came in search of fruit on it but found none, he said to the gardener, ‘For three years now I have come in search of fruit on this fig tree but have found none. So cut it down. Why should it exhaust the soil?’ He said to him in reply, ‘Sir, leave it for this year also, and I shall cultivate the ground around it and fertilize it; it may bear fruit in the future’. Luke 13:6-9

 

 

I Give Up

Another Lenten season and yesterday I was thinking, “what should I give up?” Each year the Church sets aside these 40 days in preparation for Easter. But for me there’s more to it than just giving up something or making some sacrifice. Lent should be a time for spiritual renewal.

Spirit renewal – easy words to say; much harder to put into practice. Where to start? What to do? And why? I mean really, sometimes why bother??? So much blah, blah, blah, holy, holy, holy…

CaptureSunday at mass it will be the same priest, the same boring or out-of-touch homily, the same listless liturgy, and sometimes I just want to “phone it in”. I’ll go through the motions but I can’t help but wonder if my time might not be better spent cleaning out a closet or organizing the cabinets in my office. I suppose I could pray while I straighten out my clutter. Isn’t cleanliness next to Godliness or something like that?

But today is Ash Wednesday and I’m here at my office in Mexico City. So Jimena and Alberto and I went to the little church on the corner and received ashes and listened to Scripture (in Spanish, of course) and I realized then what I need to “give up” this year.

I need to give up my cynicism, my unrealistic expectations of others, my pride, my stubbornness, my impatience, and so much more. If I empty myself, I might be filled with the Spirit. I suppose I’ve been waiting for everyone else to get better. I want the “holy ones” to deliver their message more clearly, more succinctly, more passionately, more inclusively, but perhaps the real problem is the receiver.

Today I’m proudly wearing my ashes and getting fewer confused stares here in Mexico than I would be in the States. I’ve even been thanked by a few people for reminding them that they still need to get to church. Maybe this is a good place to start my spiritual renewal.

Paz,

Denis

 

Say a little prayer (or maybe a big one)…

Lately our grandson Noah has been having some tummy trouble. Nothing serious but when you’re five years-old a bad belly came be disconcerting (come to think of it, when you’re sixty it’s no fun either). Anyway, his pediatrician has prescribed some over-the-counter remedy which seems to be working. Hopefully soon he will be back to his usual life’s-a-party, happy-go lucky, free-spirited, never-say-die self.

But right now he’s scared. He’s afraid his belly will start hurting again. He’s afraid he won’t be able to play on his soccer team. He’s afraid he won’t be able to make it through an entire day of pre-school. He’s afraid to eat too much or not enough. And he WANTS MOMMY when his tummy hurts! Poor little guy. Poor little mommy.

NoahThis morning he didn’t think he could make it to school. He pleaded his case but Mom and Dad assured him that he would be okay. They offered him a favorite stuffed animal to take for “rest time” at pre-school (which is apparently a common practice for others in his class). The stuffed animal might offer some security and reminder of home but he refused it in a very adult manner: “No thank you Mommy, there are two reasons I don’t want to take my stuffed animal. First, I don’t want germs from other kids to get on it. And sometimes people play with their stuffed animals when it’s not resting time and our teacher doesn’t like that.” Apparently he knows his limitations.

What he did ask for: “Mommy, please pray to God that I’ll be okay today!” And later, “Daddy, please pray to God that I’ll be okay today!” His parents assured him that they pray for him everyday and all day and that certainly he would be prayed for today. Now there may have been a little bit of five year-old drama in that “please pray to God” plea but I prefer to think that Noah believes in the power of prayer or at least finds comfort in knowing that someone is asking God to help him. What Noah doesn’t realize is that he brought God to us today. His reminder that God is with us and will protect and help us in our time of need is the purest form of evangelization.

Of course now I’m praying, too.

Peace,

Denis