Follow That Star

(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

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?

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

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…

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

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

 

 

 

My Version of Heaven

Lately I’ve been pondering heaven. Maybe because according to AARP I am now a senior citizen and should be obsessed with all end of life matters. But it’s more likely because I have grandchildren who talk about heaven and how wonderful it will be someday.

heavenWill it be wonderful? Will it be awesome? Will it be at all? Truth is, none of us knows for sure. Throughout history much has been written about heaven. Theologians have contemplated and expounded on paradise and eternal life in God’s presence for eons but the images of heaven most of us carry in our minds are those of a child. After all, pearly gates and streets of gold and billowy white robes are the stuff of nursery rhymes and fairy tales.

Let me be clear: I believe in a Creator. I believe in a Redeemer. I believe in a Sanctifier. I believe that the Creator made me from love; that the Redeemer saved me through love; that I am sanctified by the love the Creator and Redeemer have for one another.

That’s theologically heady stuff that as an adult I can embrace. But where is heaven and what is heaven? I’m afraid I am stuck with childish beliefs that don’t work for the grown up (old) me. My image of heaven has not been much different from that of my grandchildren. But I’m challenging myself to look at heaven in a new way.

So here’s my theory: (Assumptions being made for the existence of heaven and my ability to share in the experience). I believe that heaven is the ultimate manifestation of God’s love for us. I believe that in heaven when I am reunited with my loved ones it will be when the love we shared was the most sublime. I believe that I will encounter everyone in the state of being I most loved and they will likewise encounter me.

I will feel the comfort of snuggling in my mother’s arms as a small child. I will fun free in the woods with my best friend. I will once again experience the overwhelming beauty of seeing my bride walk down the aisle with the sun gleaming through the church windows. I will hold my newborn children in my arms and be overwhelmed by their awesome beauty and complete helplessness. I will laugh with my sons at scout camp and hug them tightly at basic training and the first day at University. I tell my daughter bedtime stories and kiss her soft cheek on her wedding day. I will play with my grandchildren at the beach and in the backyard and receive the sweet kisses that can melt even the hardest of hearts.

And how will others encounter me? I hope it will be at the happiest times. At times when peace and love was spoken without words.

So heaven may have streets of gold and angels and harps and clouds and unbelievable beauty and majesty but I’d rather be holding hands with my wife while walking down some quiet lane together reminiscing about the life we’ve shared. And I hope that in heaven she will encounter the man who is worthy of her love.

Now that would be eternal bliss…

Peace,

Denis

Family Values

In our family we have a saying: “Who said it, Anna or Nana?” That’s because our 7 year-old granddaughter often says things that sound as if they’ve come directly out of my wife’s mouth or vice-versa. Example: Upon getting new earrings, “I believe that perhaps emerald has been my color all along.” Or after an exhaustingly long and fruitless shopping day, while being reminded that we did in fact find one of the sought-after items, “But that wasn’t really a present for me!”

I’ll let you decide who said what. The point is that these two often express themselves almost identically. It’s funny and adorable and baffling. Is it possibly hereditary? Or is it learned behavior? What makes a 7 year-old want to be like her grandmother? And what makes a grandmother (at times) behave like a 7 year-old?

Anna NanaSeems mysterious but I believe it can be explained. In the truest sense, these are family values. Not the “Traditional Family Values” which is often a religious or biblical distortion with a thinly veiled political agenda. True family values are the things that your family or my family value. It’s not a list of rules that we’ve been told to follow. Our family values come from our hearts and souls.

In our family we value love above all. “I love you” is a constant in our home and nothing sounds sweeter. Respect for one another. The right to disagree without being disagreeable. Caring for one another. Lifting each other up in times of need and allowing others to carry us on occasion. Joy. Laughing first and foremost at ourselves and sharing laughter, good times and fun whenever possible. Tears. We cry for one another. Our hearts break when one of us is suffering and when one of us cries the others can taste the salt. Honesty. Being true to yourself and being accepted by those who love you as you are. Prayer. We pray for peace, compassion, understanding, gentleness and courage. We thank God for our blessings and our strength in times of hardship.

So if Anna acts (and talks) like Nana or Nana acts (and talks) like Anna, it’s only because they mirror the love that they have for one another. And reflect our family’s values.

Peace,

Denis

Run Away With Me

Today I turn 60.

I’ve been thinking lately that my life is best described as a journey. Not so much one long journey but instead it’s been a series of many journeys. Some pleasant. Some mundane. Some exquisite. Some devastating. Some planned. Some unexpected. One journey after another. Another day. Another journey.

The constant in all this journeying is my beautiful wife Deborah. Over 40 years ago I asked if she would run away with me and she said yes. And that’s how it’s been ever since. Always side by side on this crazy ride. Pushing and pulling each other along the way, we’ve made the best of it all and never regretted the journey’s twists and turns. Sometimes holding on to one another in delight or terror. Still we’ve made our way.

I know that there are no guarantees in life (except that it will end one day) so I will take it one day at a time. It’s said that man plans and God laughs. I prefer to think that every step of our journey together, whether planned or unplanned, has been ordained by the mystery of God’s love for us. And I’m sure we’ve given God plenty to laugh about!

boatAll I know is I must have done something good along the way because Deb agreed to run away with me all those years ago and we’ve kept running. And the older I get the more I realize that where we’re headed is nothing compared to journeying there together. On those darkest days, when all seems lost, I look beside me and know that everything will be alright. When happiness abounds, I know that it’s because of the love she brings to my life. And once again I thank God.

I asked her to run away with me and she said yes! And the journey continues…

So today is my birthday but I don’t need to blow out any candles.

Deb, you already know my wish. Let’s go!

Peace,

Denis

 

Why Being Catholic Today Is Still Relevant

Last weekend our daughter-in-law was formally received into the Catholic Church. Although baptized as an infant her faith journey was varied and non-traditional. Colleen is a very spiritual person and has being searching for some time. I believe she has found a home in the Catholic Church. As she journeyed through the Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults for the last nine months and celebrated her reception into the Church last Sunday my prayer has remained the same: “God please hold her in your hands.”

RCIAPolitically I am often at odds with the Church. The treatment of women in our Church is disappointing to say the least. Too often it seems that the hierarchy is more concerned with THE RULES than with the people – the people of God. Public debate about homosexuality, girl altar servers, women priests, birth control, celibacy, church finances, priest sexual abuse, and true Catholic identity (whatever that means) serve to be painful distractions from Jesus’ message of love and peace. The Official Church sadly seems to be more concerned about power than empowerment; about righteousness than about justice; more focused on sin than on forgiveness; more dedicated to doctrine than spirituality.

But listen to Jesus’ words:  “Love one another. As I have loved you, so you also should love one another.”  He didn’t say, but first make certain that the person you love is worthy. He didn’t say make sure that they have followed ALL the rules. He didn’t say judge and then love. He simply told us to love another. As Catholic Christians that is our call. To love. As Christ loves.

Recently I have witnessed this love so many times. My family and I have certainly been held in God’s hands. As I watched Colleen receive the Sacraments of our Church for the first time I felt the presence of Christ in our midst. As her sponsor Kim placed a hand on her shoulder I knew it was Jesus’ touch that Colleen would feel. Last week we attended “Grandparents’ Day” at our granddaughter Anna’s school. During Mass that morning, Anna sat between us and sang Sanctuary – a hymn that I have always loved but now has new meaning having heard it in her sweet voice. Last night my ‘Partners in Mission’ group visited residents at Villa Theresa Haven, a care facility for the elderly and infirmed. Our simple visit brought some light and life to those we met but mostly we were blessed by the love that they returned to us. Being Catholic is relevant today because love is always the answer. And God’s love for us is timeless and boundless.

As Catholic Christians we can squabble about protocol and theology. We can disagree about traditions and priorities. But Jesus remains our mediator. And love is what defines us.

“Lord prepare me, to be a sanctuary; Pure and holy, tried and true.”

Peace,

Denis