Francis Gives Me Hope

Pope Francis certainly has the attention of the press. And much of the faithful. And me.

He has shown himself to be a humble man willing to embrace the poorest amongst us. He has bucked the traditionalists who wanted more theological dogma. He has exasperated the Church hierarchy while they are busy telling us what he meant to say. Francis keeps shaking things up. Today’s interview in America Magazine only serves to further frustrate his critics.

“A person once asked me, in a provocative manner, if I approved of homosexuality. I replied with another question: ‘Tell me: when God looks at a gay person, does he endorse the existence of this person with love, or reject and condemn this person?’ We must always consider the person.”

Read the whole article here – http://www.americamagazine.org/pope-interview

For several years now I have felt cold, distant and isolated in my Church. Far too long I have felt marginally Catholic (or not Catholic at all). The cultural battle within our Church has divided communities, parishes and families. Instead of joining together in prayer and worship we are often focusing our time and talent on divisive issues. Who is worthy? Who is authentic? Who really belongs at this table?

But where is the charity? Where is the compassion? Where is Jesus in all of this?

When I listen to Pope Francis words, “Without hope, we can walk, but we’ll become cold, indifferent, self-absorbed,  distant and isolated” my hope is once again restored.

And with HOPE my faith is being restored.

Pope FrancisMore powerful than Francis’ words; his love for all of God’s creation and his humility should be an example for us. Ultra-conservative Catholics are in an uproar because he hasn’t devoted enough attention to church teaching on abortion, contraception and homosexuality. Instead he has made poverty and social justice a priority. He is embracing all of us not just a select few who seem obsessed with dogmatic allegiance.

“This Church with which we should be thinking is the home of all, not a small chapel that can hold only a small group of selected people.”

I want to belong to that Church; the one that “throws the doors open” and welcomes us all. A ‘big tent’ Church that has room for saints and sinners. I want a Church where my daughter and granddaughters will be given the same dignity and opportunity as men.

Francis gives me hope…

Peace,

Denis

Kindergarten and Beyond…

Granddaughter Anna started Kindergarten this week. It’s one of life’s big milestones, like  first steps or first words. But Kindergarten is more than just a milestone, it’s about education. It’s the door to knowledge and adventure and socialization and community. Certainly Anna’s education began the day she was born. The difference is the fact that Kindergarten is formal education provided by professional teachers. And everything from this day forward will be on her “permanent record”.

Ready to learn!

Ready to learn!

That seems like a tall order for a little person. But I’m confident that she will succeed and thrive. Anna is bright, loving, inquisitive and kind. Her school is filled with loving, caring educators who put the children in their care above all other concerns. And she has parents who will support her and the school in their shared goal of educating Anna.

Still I’m feeling a bit ambivalent about all this BIG GIRL stuff. Maybe I’m being too sappy and overly sentimental. I suppose all parents (and sappy grandparents, too) are entitled to a few tears on the first day. But that should quickly give way to the excitement of new adventures in learning for our children and grandchildren.

Anna has already learned so much in her five short years. Her knowledge will grow exponentially now that she is in school. And soon I will be struggling to keep up with her. I just hope that she can teach this old dog a few new tricks along the way…

Peace,

Denis

School Daze

Growing up there were two choices in my little world: both were Catholic schools. In my hometown there was also a Lutheran school, but it seemed foreign and exotic and I never knew anyone who actually went there. And Public School was taboo and frightening. We simultaneously prayed for and pitied the Public School kids but mostly we feared them.

St_Peter_Grade_School_1960Such was life in a small town in the 1960’s. There were as many as 40 kids in a single classroom. We sat in long rows. We took turns. We did as we were told. We attended Mass daily. We were (mostly) quiet, polite and respectful. We studied hard. We burned off excess energy on the asphalt playground. We helped clean chalkboards after school for fun. And Sister kept order and discipline at all times.

Nostalgia has a way of white-washing and sweetening our memories. But Catholic school in the 1960’s was far from idyllic. Learning disabilities were discounted or ignored (kids were either smart or stupid). Physical abuse went unreported. Bullies controlled the playground and bathrooms. And although Sister was always right, she was under-valued, under-paid and likely took out her frustration on the students in her care.

My granddaughters are now in school and tremendous advances in education have been made in the 50+ years since I started elementary school. As a society we are more aware of bullying (and have adopted zero-tolerance policies), we embrace and celebrate diversity, and learning disabilities are diagnosed and accommodated.

One granddaughter attends Public School, the other attends Catholic School. Each attend quality schools with small class sizes and safe classrooms. Both have sound nutritional and physical programs, as well as art and music at their respective schools. And both have attentive and engaged parents who value education.

Yet I’m in a bit of a daze. Teachers in 2013 still seem to be under-valued, under-paid and under-appreciated. Our children are in the hands of teachers who are often struggling to make ends meet. Not surprising that gifted teachers often leave their careers for better paying jobs in the corporate world. As a society it seems we pay more attention to the kind of athletic shoes, iPhones or fashion that our kids are sporting then to ensuring that they are being educated by well-paid, well-trained teachers.

Let’s invest in our future. Let’s appropriately fund our schools. Let’s support educators. And let’s thank the ones that taught us by working for a better life for the ones that will teach our future generations. I was blessed to be taught by Sisters who loved God and their communities and sacrificed their lives that we might learn. If you want to be nostalgic think of a teacher that you loved (and who loved you). And then pay that love forward to a future teacher who might just improve the lives of your grandchildren.

Peace,

Denis

Looking For God In All The Wrong Places

Recently my five year-old granddaughter Anna decided that God is probably a man because “God is kind of a boyish sounding name”. She also remembered that in her Children’s Bible, God is referred to as Jesus’ father and because fathers are men God must be a man, too. I suppose we’ll deal with the Holy Spirit’s sexuality later.

Such is the need for concrete theology when you’re five years old. Anna needs black and white answers. And I get that. But what about adults? Why are so of us many hung up on the minutia? Why is the rule book so important? Why do we try to put God in a box. Why is it necessary to humanize the divine? Why does it seem that we must always make God small enough to fit in our limited view of life? And where do we find God? In the clouds? In our churches?

Lately I have realized that I’ve been looking for God in all the wrong places. Or at least I’m not looking EVERYWHERE. Or in EVERYONE. Thus I limit God. I suppose that there’s a little five year-old inside me that wants (needs) God to be a man and wants (needs) God to be up in heaven at the controls. That would be easier in so many ways. It’s comforting to think that I can just tuck God away for safekeeping. To be pulled out and dusted off when I need God. Of course we ask for God’s help and mercy during tragic times. Often it’s hard to find God in catastrophic events like the tornado this week in Oklahoma. Where are you God? If you are truly omnipotent, then please make the bad stuff stop!

Blog photoBut I believe that God’s hands are at work in pulling survivors from the rubble. I believe that God is in those who are comforting the mourning and bringing relief to the suffering. And I keep finding God in people who fill my life with love and joy.

Mostly I find God in my wife’s touch, in my children’s voices, and in my grandchildren’s laughter. God is present in the Eucharist but also present in my friends and my neighbors and the clerk at the local market and in my co-workers. It just takes a little focus (prayer) sometimes to see Him/Her.

So church is fine and clouds are beautiful and nature is awesome but I don’t find God there as often as I’d like (should?). God is here with me. And you. Next door. Down the hall. Just around the bend. God refuses to be limited by my human constraints and I keep reminding myself that God is not distant. I am.

Peace,

Denis

Five Years Old!

Anna at fiveOur granddaughter Anna is five years old today. Five years old! It’s hard to believe that it has been five years since she was born but of course I can barely remember life without her. She has filled our world with light.

And five??? Five is one of those milestone birthdays, like 13 or 21. Kindergarten will begin this fall. She plays soccer now. She takes swimming lessons. She will have her first dance recital this spring. She knows the ‘days of the week’ and ‘months of the year’ and all her colors and numbers and she can write her name and mine too and is beginning to read REAL WORDS. I’m excited for all her ‘firsts’ but truth be told it scares me just a little. I find myself wanting things to slow down. There will be time enough in the future for her to learn how to ride a two-wheeler and study for SAT’s. I need more time RIGHT NOW to treasure her sweetness. Her innocence. I need my baby girl to be a baby a bit longer.

Pawpaw's Girl
Pawpaw’s Girl

But it’s not about what I need. Anna will continue to grow and I will have to adapt. I somehow managed to do that when her mother was transformed from a helpless newborn into a five year-old, who was learning so much, and then into a teenager, who knew too much, and then an adult, who is now teaching me so much. Life goes on. I want Anna to grow up. I want her to take on BEING FIVE with the same excitement and joy and love that she has shown throughout these brief five years. I want her to be undaunted; I want her to conquer the world the way she has conquered my heart. But I hope there’s still some time for baby dolls and Play-Doh®; make-believe and mud puddles.

Our relationship will change. I’ll get older. She’ll get wiser. She won’t need bedtime stories and our silly little games will become – well, silly and little. But I pray that our love for one another never changes.

I know that Anna is growing up and I am truly happy that she is five years old; and I look forward to 13 and 21. I want to be around to witness some of those milestones. I’d like to think that I’ll be on the sidelines cheering her on (and carrying an image of a precious baby girl in my heart).

Happy (Easter) Birthday Anna! Pawpaw loves you very much.

Peace,

Denis

Learning About God From Children

Recently our (almost) 5 year-old granddaughter Anna was discussing Easter with her Mommy. She was talking about Jesus dying on the cross and rising from the dead. She knows that we live forever in heaven even though our bodies remain on earth after death. She wants to know if Grannie is an old lady in heaven or has a ‘zero baby’ body. Also she’s super excited that Sophie (our aged Maltese) might someday be a fuzzy puppy in heaven and that we’ll all be with her and Grannie someday. But “not for like a hundred years”.the-story-of-easter

Pretty profound stuff.

Anna’s conversation with our daughter reminded me of a time years ago when our younger son Blake was 4 or 5 years old and was attending ‘Pre-school Sunday School’. He was learning about Jesus and Easter and Salvation. And of course as anyone with a preschooler knows, there were lots of questions:

Why did Jesus have to die? He died to forgive our sins.

Is God Jesus’ Daddy? Yes.

Why didn’t his Daddy save him? Because God knew that Jesus needed to die to so we could live in heaven forever.

I’d rather live here than in heaven. You would save me, wouldn’t you? Yes.

Do you have to believe in Jesus to go to heaven? I’m pretty sure that you do.

What about Greg (his older brother’s Jewish best friend)? Well I’m not sure. Ummm, can we talk about what the Easter Bunny will bring you?

A few days later he woke me up in the middle of the night. “Blake why are you awake?” “I’ve been worrying about Greg, but just I figured it out!” “What’s that Buddy?” If God made Greg Jewish then that’s what he should be – God wouldn’t be wrong!” “So Greg can come to heaven, too.” “Oh, okay Pal, can we go back to sleep now?” “Sure!”

Blake fell fast asleep that night. I on the other hand laid awake for hours amazed at his insight. Great scholars and theologians couldn’t have spoken more eloquently.

And then I just stopped pretending to have all the answers. In fact, I realized back then (and still know today) that I had few of the answers.

What I do have is faith. Faith in the unknown; the unseen; the unproven. I’ve been blessed to have glimpsed heaven a few times through the eyes of a child.

As we enter Holy Week may you stop looking for answers and rest assured that God already has them all.

Peace,

Denis

Storybooks, Legos and Baby Dolls

Our home office is actually a multi-purpose room. It’s truly a third bedroom that was converted into an office and now serves as the toy room, the art supply room, the nursery, the occasional spare bedroom and whenever possible is actually used as an office. I often find my center here. I pray here. I blog here.

OfficeI love this room because it is full of reminders of all the love in my life. This room is comfort and joy to me. And even when it’s a little messy – toys or books or art projects strewn about – it is still a place of repose. Sometimes when I’m alone I read the grandkids’ books to myself, like “You Are My Wish” by Maryann Cusimano Love – “I am your soft lap; you are my climb. I am your story; you are my rhyme.” – what poetry! it just tugs at my heart!

Sometimes this room is full of activity with three grandchildren happily playing or creating some new works of art. Sometimes this room is still except for the soft breath sounds of Noah while he is napping in his crib. Sometimes music is playing through the speakers thanks to a handy son-in-law. And sometimes it’s just me clacking away at the keyboard of my computer and then proofreading and deleting (and re-typing and re-reading and deleting again). It truly is a multi-purpose room.

And the love abounds. It’s found in the favorite toys and books. It’s in the little mementos of our travel abroad. It’s in the photos of friends and family. It’s in a note from Deb of little importance (except it’s written in her beautiful penmanship). It’s in the small plaque that reads, “God Only Knows What I’d Be Without You”.

Office2This room will never be featured on HGTV or shown in House Beautiful. It’s cluttered and a bit haphazard. It’s full of Legos and storybooks and baby dolls. It’s relatively small and it lacks any real style. But it’s our room. And it’s our life. And it reflects our love.

They say that home is where the heart is – this room might just be our soul.

Peace,

Denis

Santa and The Wise Men

My two-year old grandson Noah likes to have Santa stand alongside The Wise Men at our nativity scene. Noah knows that Christmas is Jesus’ birthday. He also knows that birthdays are lots of fun. And Santa is the fun Christmas guy so why not make him part of the celebration? So we mix our fantasy with theology here. Or is it the other way around? Either way Santa has “come to adore Him” at our house.Santa and The Wise Men

Christmas is always a mixed bag. We embrace the secular (you know because we actually live in the world) and we exchange gifts and write letters to Santa and leave cookies and reindeer food and all the rest. And we go to Mass and sing and pray and shout the joy of our Savior’s birth. We we are a bi-celebratory family! If Noah is a little confused about where Santa belongs, it’s not surprising. And it’s also okay with me. Santa, a guy who is spreading love around like mad, is welcome in my home.

Our family usually plays a game on Christmas Eve called “Rob Your Neighbor” – everyone brings a few small gifts (some are gag gifts and some are treasures). All the gifts are beautifully wrapped, concealing their simplicity or beauty or hideousness. After all the gifts are doled out and unwrapped revealing their value or lack thereof we then roll dice to see who can “rob” the most from their “neighbor” until the time runs out. When the bell chimes what’s left is what you get. Often there is fevered excitement trying to obtain the few treasures amongst the cache of gifts.

This year we toyed with the idea of changing the game to “Love Your Neighbor” with the idea of giving the treasured gift(s) to another but that seemed a little lame for our family. We like our mercenary little game of theft and avarice. And there is always plenty of laughter while we’re fighting over the treasured items. And in our game we are loving one another in our own slightly twisted and aggressive sort of way.

This morning at Mass, Father Joe reminded us that God is love and that we will find that love in those sitting next to us in the pew. I looked at my family and I saw God there. Then Father Joe told us that God is in us. That was a little harder for me to imagine until my four-year old granddaughter Anna looked up at me and smiled her sweet innocent smile. I suppose she might have seen a little glimpse of God in this tired old sinner. And now I have a new responsibility to her and her brother and the rest of the world. God is in me??? That changes everything.

Tonight it occurred to me that if Santa can hang with the Wise Men and if God is in me then our silly little game BELONGS on Christmas Eve. It’s a celebration of our love. Everyone takes part and we all leave a little richer for the experience. God made us imperfect so that we can be perfected by His love. And if we play a few silly games along the way, so be it…

Peace,

Denis

God Bless America?

We often hear politicians and others say, “God bless America”, as if somehow America deserves God’s blessings more than any other place else on earth (or the universe).

Since returning to the United States from England I have been inundated with political ads and Facebook posts imploring us to return to the Christian values that America was founded upon. My favorite post is one that shows Jesus superimposed over the Stars and Stripes. I’m pretty sure Jesus never owned an American flag (or anything else for that matter). There’s another one that shows the White House with the caption, “Remember when God lived here?” Really???

Why do some people want to make God so small? Why reduce God to someone who only has concern for us? Our country? Our party? Our faith tradition? God doesn’t love Americans or America any more than he loves anyone or anywhere else. He doesn’t love Christians more than Jews or Muslims. If we REALLY believe in God and believe what Jesus taught us, then we should be asking God to bless our enemies (which He already does, but it would be nice to ask).

Jesus preached love. He preached unity and inclusiveness. He preached wholeness to the brokenhearted and freedom to those that have been enslaved. Shouldn’t those of us who call ourselves Christians do the same? Aren’t we supposed to love our enemies?

All God’s Children

Maybe we should ask God to bless Afghanistan or Iran or Libya. Maybe we should ask God to forgive our hatred and prejudice. God did not create me to hate me. Why would I expect any less for the rest of God’s creation?

We are free to believe what we want. To worship where and how we choose. To build walls or bridges. But we have no right to claim God for ourselves. We can try to put God in a box or a building or a temple or a tabernacle but that only proves our human limitation. And God can’t be minimized no matter how we might wish to. Recently my four year-old granddaughter said it best, “Daddy, church isn’t really God’s house.” “He lives inside us!”

Well said Anna. He lives inside us, no matter where that might be…

Peace,

Denis

Back Home

Back home. It’s strange and wonderful being back home. We’re sorting through mountains of boxes and rediscovering some old things. And because time hasn’t stood still while we lived abroad, we’re learning some new things, too. We feel a bit like time travelers who have arrived one year in the future – time marched on and now we have to catch up.

Back home. Some adjustment is required. I must stop speaking the Queen’s English – saying carry-on, keen, or bollocks just produces blank stares here. I also need to increase my volume – Americans are loud (According to Deb that shouldn’t be a problem for me). I have to stop getting in the passenger side of the car to drive and I must fight the urge to drive on the left side of the road. This is particulary challenging in parking lots where lanes aren’t clearly defined.

Back home. Love is here! From the greeting at the airport Saturday night from two squealing grandkids to the special meal that our daughter and son-in-law had waiting for us to the extra tight hugs from my Mom yesterday, love has been abundant. So much lost time to make up. I know that they say that home is where the heart is but I realize that my heart needs to be here. Back home.

Happy days!

On Sunday everytime I left the room my two year-old grandson Noah asked, “Where did Pawpaw go?”  My four year-old granddaughter Anna said it best: “Pawpaw I missed you! You can go on vacation to England again some day but you can’t live there anymore, okay?” 

Okay Noah and Anna, I’m right here and I promise I’m back home to stay…

Peace,

Denis