God

First Holy Communion

/ Denis Wilhelm / 1 Comment

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…

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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

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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)…

/ Denis Wilhelm / 1 Comment

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

Follow That Star

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(Originally published on January 3, 2011 – edited January 5, 2015)

 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 this gospel story of the Epiphany. I imagine the Magi (The Wise Men) 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 recently 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?   

Wise MenLegend and tradition tell us more:  The Three Kings (three gifts were presented but the Gospel never tells us the number of Magi) were named Caspar (or Gaspar), Melchior, and Balthasar. Early Christian art depicts the three men as coming from Europe, Asia, and Africa. And growing up my nativity set at home would show them likewise. Tradition also tells us the significance of the 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 + 16.

I still find some comfort in the imagined Wise Men of my childhood – these three; certain of their mission; moving toward the 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 (or won’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? It’s likely (for me) that I need to look right here; right now.

There’s a message from the Magi for me today – they were immigrants. How do I accept strangers into my life; 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 most humble of circumstances. How do I treat those who are living in poverty; in despair? Maybe it’s time for me to prostrate myself before them. Isn’t that the message of Jesus? Isn’t that what the Magi were truly following?

This image of the Magi isn’t as “warm and fuzzy” as those cute little figures I remember under my tree as a kid. But perhaps my challenge is to follow a new star.

Peace,

Denis

P.S. Attached is a link to “A Child of the Poor”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mEkdr62eVMY&feature=related

Dias de Muertos

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In the U.S. on October 31st we celebrate Halloween as a time for children (and some adults) to go door to door begging for candy. With a cheery “Trick or Treat” the little beggars wait with their bags and buckets outstretched to receive their treat. Most households oblige. Some communities have moved “Halloween” to the Sunday afternoon before October 31st to avoid a dark night. Others have opted for “Trunk or Treat” which corrals families in a safe place such as a school or church parking lot. All of these activities are fun and none of them have much to do with the origin of Halloween or more accurately “All Hallows Eve”. All Hallows’ Eve is the day before the very important feast of All Saints Day in Western Christian traditions.

Trick or TreatIn early Christian tradition the night before All Saints was a time to honor the saints that have passed before us and folks often dressed as their patron saints and visited neighbors. I suppose this may have been the beginnings of today’s modern celebration of Halloween. How we went from honoring our dearly departed, and the saints to slogging around as zombies, vampires, witches, princesses, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and all other manner of characters, I have no idea. Still I think Halloween is harmless fun and most people handle it responsibly. Kids running around the neighborhood asking for candy is hardly a sign of a predilection to the occult. Some people seem to think that allowing children to “Trick or Treat” is tempting the devil. I say relax – no little girl or boy dressed as princess or a ninja is sacrificing animals at an altar. No one has traded their soul for a Snickers bar.

I admire the tradition of my friends in Mexico. They celebrate November 1st and 2nd as “Dias de Muertos” or days of the dead. It’s a time to remember and honor those saints in our own lives. Families gather in cemeteries and bring the favorite foods of their loved ones. Sometimes the food, flowers, and small gifts are left at the grave and at other times the friends and families will share the meal of favorite foods in honor the deceased.

I love the idea that someday when I’m gone from this world my children and grandchildren might gather at my grave and share a favorite food or drink, tell a joke, sing a favorite song and pray for my soul. Maybe it’s as superstitious and as silly as our modern Halloween traditions but I find comfort in knowing that I would not be forgotten. And if they leave some candy, I hope it’s chocolate.

Peace,

Denis

Who Is Worthy?

/ Denis Wilhelm / 1 Comment

Pope Francis’ message is LOVE above all else. He strives to strike a conciliatory tone while some conservative bishops and cardinals appear to be focused only on the LAW. Sadly many American bishops display some of the harshest criticism of our Holy Father. Instead of reaching out to those in need of Christ’s love, they prefer to remind us of our sinfulness; our unworthiness. Instead of finding ways to evangelize and share God’s love, they prefer exclusion and divisiveness. It’s sad that in a world aching for reconciliation and peace these bishops have chosen a very narrow view of Christ’s Gospel.

Recently Archbishop John Myers from New Jersey has given a directive to his parish priests concerning those ineligible to receive communion. He seems to be primarily concerned with those “guilty” of sexual sins. So once again another bishop has decided to “police” the Eucharist. So who is worthy to receive Christ? The publicly pious person who refuses to support legislation that will serve the poor? The folks who attend weekly mass but find no time to serve those less fortunate in their communities? What about the priest who makes it abundantly clear that he has no time for pastoral care but reminds us weekly that we are sinful?

And who are the unworthy? Only those guilty of sexual sins? Ironic that a clergy still plagued by the sexual abuse of the most innocent among us is seemingly obsessed with contraception, homosexuality and infidelity. I am dismayed that many Catholics flock to protest at abortion clinics yet remain virtually silent about the abuse of minors by priests. When was the last time members of a parish stood outside a bishop’s residence protesting the grave sins of pedophile priests at the urging of their parish priest?

Some progressive Catholics have suggested that we boycott communion. Some have suggested that we band together wearing our rainbow attire in support of our gay brothers and sisters and sons and daughters. Others have just decided to walk away. None of these options will bring reconciliation to our church.

imageHaving lived in Europe for a year, I’ve seen the empty churches; the cathedrals and abbeys that are little more than museums today. How sad that some American bishops seem to be working feverishly to empty our churches as well.

Come Holy Spirit, renew the face of the Earth! And when you’re done with me, maybe you could work on a few priests and bishops.

Peace,

Denis

Women of Faith

/ Denis Wilhelm / 1 Comment

Recently during a virtual papal audience via satellite from the Vatican, Pope Francis called out to Sister Norma Pimentel who runs a welcome center in McAllen, Texas, which has served more than 20,000 asylum seeking immigrants.

“I want to thank you,” Francis said. “And through you to thank all the sisters of religious orders in the U.S. for the work that you have done and that you do in the United States. It’s great. I congratulate you. Be courageous. Move forward. I’ll tell you one other thing. Is it inappropriate for the Pope to say this? I love you all very much.“

Three of my aunts were Sisters of the Most Precious Blood and they were testaments to devotion, service, and joy in Christ. What amazing examples of faithfulness I was blessed with.

Circa 1957 That's me on Gene's lap - a happy place to be.

Noel, Gene Marie & Lucy with my grandparents, my brother, my cousins and my dad – circa 1957
(That’s me on Gene’s lap – a happy place to be.)

My three aunts, Lucida, Noel and Gene Marie, embodied all that is good about religious life. They were loving women who served God by serving others. They lived in community and shared their talents accordingly. They were intelligent women who were well-traveled and well-educated, not something to be taken for granted by women born in the 1910’s and 1920’s. They were teachers, administrators, catechists, and persons of authority. But to me they were simply my Aunts.

They were our family’s “Blessed Trinity”. They were honored guests and were afforded certain special privileges. When they would visit, Mom would be sure to make their favorite meals (particularly their favorite desserts). At my grandparents’ house it was always a treat when all three Sisters would visit at the same time. Growing up Catholic in the 1950’s and 60’s while having three aunts that were Sisters was the pinnacle of holiness for me – I wore it like a scapular medal. And I must admit that I bragged about it at school or with my friends. I remember that there were kids at school who were afraid of nuns but I knew how loving my aunts were and understood that the Sisters who taught us were also daughters, sisters and aunts, too. It was de-mystifying having nuns in our family. They were just like us (only holier). Some of my happiest childhood memories are laughing and playing with Lucy, Noel and Gene Marie.

Mom & Dad celebrating Gene's 60th year as a Religious Sister

My Mom & Dad with Aunt Gene ~ Celebrating her 70th year as a Religious Sister

As I grew, I understood the many sacrifices my aunts had made in serving God’s people. I was also keenly aware of the joy that they knew while living in community with their Sisters. They modeled for me a progressive faith; where service to others was the ultimate service to God. Instead of dogma and hierarchy; rules and regulations, their focus was on loving ALL of God’s creation. They taught me how to love even the unlovable (which sometimes included me).  There were times when I didn’t believe in God but I always believed in Lucy, Noel and Gene. Priests and bishops would come and go. Crises in our Church (mostly caused by men) would dominate the headlines but my Aunts remained steadfast. Perhaps they saw the folly in a “male only” clergy or perhaps they realized it was insignificant in the grand scheme of God’s promise. Even as cancer and Alzheimer’s took their lives, it didn’t distinguish their light.

They remain alive in my heart and in the thousands of lives that they each served. I for one will always be grateful for their unconditional love. And I share Pope Francis sentiments. “I love you all very much.”

Peace,

Denis

When All Else Fails…

/ Denis Wilhelm / 1 Comment

This has been a gut-wrenching week. I have experienced disappointment and heartache at every turn. I am numb with grief for our friends who lost their son to a drug overdose. I am saddened by the realization that a co-worker seems to be losing his battle with cancer. I am frightened by the senseless violence in our streets: another day, another homicide. It feels overwhelming and I feel hopeless and helpless. So much sadness. So much despair.

I am often reminded that when all else fails we should pray. But I’m almost too angry to pray right now. I want some answers! Why? Why does this happen? How could this happen? When will it stop? God you owe me some answers. I want promises; not platitudes. I want understanding; not condemnations. I want action; not plans.

My prayers seem empty as my thoughts are clouded with lost lives; lost hope; lost faith; lost dreams. And yet I pray (or try to) for promise; for understanding; for action. I have found comfort in the words of Saint Francis:

st-francis-peace-prayerLord, make me an instrument of Your peace. Where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; where there is sadness, joy.

O, Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love; For it is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned; it is in dying that we are born again to eternal life.

In my hopelessness and helplessness I ask God to make me a channel of peace. Let me bring reconciliation to those I encounter and give me the grace to let go of my anger and disappointment. Then perhaps I can help others begin to heal.

Peace,

Denis

Anna Writes

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Our seven year-old granddaughter Anna likes to journal. She carries her journal with her most days and jots down notes or stories. She also sketches and adds drawings to some of her writings. Anna starts second grade this year and I don’t believe that her writing is extraordinary for a second grader but she writes because she loves to and I find that extraordinary. When I was in primary school I would never write during the summer months and each school year would begin with a challenging week or two trying to relearn what I had forgotten.

Anna may never be a gifted author but just loving to read and write will make her a better student; a better communicator; a better citizen; and a better person. And of course I believe that she is brilliant, so others’ opinions of Anna mean little to me.

Anna's blog post

The bottom line is this: Anna writes. She reads. She thinks. She reflects.

We as a society have become so used to instant gratification. Instant messaging. Instagram. I have more information at the click of a mouse or the touch of a screen than is housed at my local library. I carry microprocessors around in the form of my smart phone and tablet and yet at times it seems that I am stunningly unaware of the beauty around me. How often have I missed the song of birds in my own garden because my ear buds are plugged into my iPod? How often have I missed the smile of a stranger (or a loved one) because I have my face planted in my iPad as I read emails or text messages or Facebook posts? How often have I neglected someone “in person” while chatting away on my iPhone?

Anna WritesDon’t get me wrong: Technology is wonderful. Abundant information makes for informed consumers and citizens. But sometimes we have to experience life – real life – with all our senses. We need to see, hear, touch, taste, and smell all of God’s creation. We need to unplug. Quiet ourselves. Read a book. Listen to nature. Hold a hand. Share a meal.

And then maybe we can pick up a pencil and write about our experiences.

Anna does.

Peace,

Denis