Will I Know Him When He Comes?

“If Jesus visited me, what would I be able to give Him?” That was the question of the old shoemaker in Tolstoy’s story. The response came back to him from a voice not present, “Dear old shoemaker, tonight I am going to visit your village. Look for Me.”

Of course as the story goes on we learn that the shoemaker is visited by orphans and widows looking for shelter and food. The shoemaker gives to each who approach him. He even shares the soup he has prepared for Jesus. He goes even further by making shoes for children in the orphanage. But ultimately he is disappointed because Jesus does not come.

When he questions God, he is told “I visited you last night and you gave me warmth. I was thirsty and you gave me a drink. I was hungry and you fed me, and I was in the orphanage and you came to visit me. Whatever you did for all these people, you also did for me.”

I wonder, do I serve others as would choose to serve my Lord? Do I have the same spirit of generosity and love for those whom I don’t know? Do I fail to recognize Christ in my fellow humans?

adventcandlesAdvent is a good time for me to stop and listen to what Jesus is asking of me. I try to quiet myself and listen to what is truly important. Mostly I fail. But sometimes Jesus shines through. Sometimes my heart is broken open enough to allow the love of God to fill my soul. The love is always there but often it takes a smile or a kind word or a song or a warm embrace to help me let down my defenses. Last weekend my granddaughter gently put her arm around me and told me (again) that she loved me. Christ came to me at that moment. I didn’t even ask for God’s love and there it was!

I have a dear friend who is volunteering at a Humanitarian Center serving immigrants from Central America as I write this. I can’t help but believe that he has been visited by Jesus countless times. And he has been Christ to those families who are in such desperate need of love and care. He is an inspiration to me.

O come, O come Emmanuel. This year when I hear this ancient and beautiful song, my heart is with those immigrant families mourning in lonely exile until the Son of God appears.

Peace,

Denis

 

Saints Be Praised, (well Saint Denis, anyway…)

Today is the Feast Day of St. Denis. He is the patron Saint of Paris and France and headache sufferers.

I’ve always been happy to have Denis as my saint’s name because he’s kind of a maverick and a tough guy. According to legend Denis was Bishop of Paris in the third century and was martyred by beheading. He is said to have picked up his own head and walked six miles, preaching a sermon the entire way. Also Denis is the patron saint of headache sufferers, frenzy and strife. This is not surprising considering that six-mile trek while carrying his own severed head!

St. Denis - Outside the Madeline in Paris (depicted with head intact)

St. Denis – Outside the Madeleine in Paris (depicted with head intact)

Of course, I admire the “saintly” saints who prayed and fasted and gave up all worldly possessions to follow Jesus’ call. We all love the saints who lived simple lives and made tremendous sacrifices for their faith but there’s something about a guy that’s got Denis’s spunk. I mean even the biggies like Francis and Theresa and Patrick and Clare didn’t carry around their own heads postmortem. So, in my book Denis is a saint to emulate. Not only was he tough but he was cool. Let’s call it grace under pressure – extreme pressure.

St. Denis

Our grandson Noah as St. Denis in 2017 during an All-Saints’ Mass at school

My Aunt Gene, who was a Sister of the Most Precious Blood, used to send me a ‘Saints Day’ card on Denis’s feast day, and I will miss that again this year. When Alzheimer’s took it’s grip, she forgot about Saint Denis and was sometimes a little fuzzy about who I was, too. But she’s the one who first introduced me to the saint who shares my name. And I have always taken a certain amount of pride (is that a sin?) in the fact that my patron saint was a badass who defied his Roman persecutors!

I’d like to think that Aunt Gene and Denis are in heaven having a conversation about that fateful day in Paris so many centuries ago…

Peace,

Denis

Headache and Heartache

I travel quite a bit for my job. It can sometimes be a humbling experience.

When I was a child, I thought that business travel seemed glamorous and exotic. Fancy hotels with bellhops, jetliners with stewardesses and restaurants serving martinis at lunch were all depicted in the movies and television shows that I watched. I wanted to be Cary Grant or Sean Connery. Jet-setter. High-roller. Globe-trotter.

Instead I’m the schlub who lugs his bags into a discount hotel after spending painful hours cramped in an airplane seat so small that it seems to have been designed for pixies or driving a (less than clean) rental car for far too many miles while being equally frustrated and flummoxed by which side of the steering wheel the wipers are on and where the little button for the gas cap release is hiding. Cary Grant never had to deal with this crap.

Because I’m usually out-of-town for a few days in a row, I will on occasion buy groceries (you know – that already made stuff that can go in microwave) so as to avoid another dinner alone at Panera or Applebee’s or wherever. I will then “cook” in my rental suite while growling at the news of the day on television.

Recently after a long day, with a simmering headache, I decided to stop at the Kroger in Jeffersonville, Indiana and grab a few things. The checker’s name tag informed me that she was Delilah (although in all honesty, I was more interested in reading one of the messages tattooed across her neck). Delilah was big in all the wrong places and she had hair that was a color not found in nature. She proceeded to comment on every single item that I had purchased. Apparently, Cokes have names on them now and she asked if my name was Landon because my Coke was named Landon. Of course because I had a headache and was tired and cranky I wanted to say, “Why yes, I make it a rule to only buy soft drinks with my name on them.” “You can imagine my delight in finding the rare ‘Landon’!” Instead, I just grunted “no” and hoped she would shut up. Which she didn’t (or couldn’t). She went on to tell me that she had tried the salad that I bought and it wasn’t very good. In my self-righteous indignation, I wanted to sarcastically thank her for her culinary advice and compliment her neck tattoos and nose ring, but instead I just took my lousy salad and my ‘Landon’ Coke and left.

judginLater while getting into my rental car, I saw Delilah. She was hard to miss – neck tattoos, body piercings and all. She was patiently helping an old woman get into her car and then loaded her groceries in the trunk. She took time to speak to this woman and more importantly to listen to her. She absolutely refused to take a tip. She thanked the woman, wished her a good day and offered her blessings.

Wow. What a complete jackass I had been. Perhaps instead of judging my checker’s appearance, I should have been looking into her eyes. Instead of being annoyed by her friendliness, I could have shared a kind word or smile. Maybe then I might have seen some of the beauty that the old woman had experienced. Cary Grant likely would have.

Instead, I went to my economy hotel suite and ate dinner alone and realized that I missed another opportunity to love like Jesus. And in spite of my arrogance and heartlessness I realized then that I’m forgiven even when I struggle to forgive myself. It’s humbling to know that God still loves me in all my selfishness, vanity and absurdity.

And by the way, Delilah was right about my dinner choice. It wasn’t very good.

Peace,

Denis

Stop judging, that you may not be judged. For as you judge, so will you be judged, and the measure with which you measure will be measured out to you. Matthew 7:1-2  

Finding Peace in a Frenzied World

In these weeks of Advent we are encouraged to “prepare the way of the Lord”.

However, like most of us, I am in a fevered frenzy to ‘prepare the way of Christmas’. The gifts, the decorating, the planning, the gatherings, the family, etc., etc, etc. Oh, and just in case I wasn’t feeling pressured enough, let’s add the additional (burden/guilt?) of countless charities asking for some of my already-stretched-too-thin budget!

I’m sure somewhere in this mountain of shopping lists, Christmas cocktail recipes, gift wrap, garland, Christmas cards, tangled lights, cookie ingredients, and other ABSOLUTE CHRISTMAS NECESSITIES, Baby Jesus is buried under there somewhere. Surely that old Nativity Set is in one of these boxes. Maybe I’ll find Him tomorrow. But first I’ve got to get that tree decorated and put those lights up. Then I’ll clean the house, wrap some gifts, plan some meals and have one of those much-deserved Christmas cocktails. I’ll definitely look for Baby Jesus tomorrow. Surely He didn’t get tossed out with the trash last year. I’ll make a new list and add ‘look for Baby Jesus’.

On-The-Second-Sunday-In-Advent-The-Peace-Candles-Is-LitEach year my Advent is about the same. Frenzy followed by peace. Blissful peace. Some years it sneaks up on me (like when a grandchild crawls up on my lap and gives me an undeserved hug or when my cousin’s Christmas card arrives in the mail and I can relive all those joyful memories of Christmases long ago). Most years it kind of hits me right between the eyes (like reuniting with a friend with whom too much time has passed and realizing immediately that time hasn’t diminished the love we share). The thing is, I never find peace on my own. Someone always brings it to me.

So I needn’t spend anymore time searching for Baby Jesus in that box somewhere in the basement. Real Christmas is here in my soul. It’s in the hearts of those that I love. It’s in the laughter of children. It’s in the kindness of strangers. Without fail, it comes to me by way of a messenger each year.

I hope that you will open your door and your heart when your messenger arrives this Advent season.

Peace,

Denis

“Behold, I am sending my messenger ahead of you; he will prepare your way.” Mark 1:2

 

 

Be Watchful!

In Advent we’re reminded to be watchful. That’s more challenging for some of us than others.

I’ve heard it said that there are three kinds of people: Those that make things happen. Those that watch things happen. And those that say, “What happened?” I mostly fall into that third category. I’m not exactly what you’d call ‘watchful’. I often step into someone else’s way (accidentally of course). I’ve been known to step on someone’s toes (literally and figuratively). Or I stumble over things. Or I speak over someone (sorry – I thought you were done talking). I usually don’t listen to warnings. And I NEVER read instructions (until AFTER I can’t get some stupid thing to work right).

So how can I be watchful? Am I hopeless? Maybe not.

Capture

I can pay better attention to those around me. I can SLOW DOWN and listen (really listen) to someone who needs to be heard. I can stop putting myself first – give a little more; take a little less. I can open my eyes to the heartache, suffering, injustice and cruelty in my world, neighborhood, and family. Conversely, I can see the goodness in others; look for joy in simple things; cherish blessings of peace and love in my midst. I can make myself available to those in need. I can allow myself to be vulnerable and acknowledge that I am also needy.

Basically, I could just stop being such an asshole.

Of course I know that this is not a beautiful, sacred image of preparing myself for Jesus’ coming at Christmas. In Advent we look at the coming of Christ in three distinct ways: His coming as an infant; His coming in our lives today; His final coming. I need help with the coming in my life today part. I can’t really embrace Jesus if I can’t embrace my fellow humans. And I can’t exactly blame the folks who aren’t standing in line to embrace me. So being watchful this Advent Season will require that I look in the mirror a time or two. And that I thank God for the patience of others.

Peace,

Denis

May he not come suddenly and find you sleeping. What I say to you, I say to all: ‘Watch!'” Mark 13:36-37

Do You Hear What I Hear?

Advent is supposed to be a time of anticipation, preparation and reflection. Sometimes in my busy life I need to slow down and listen to my heart. I need Advent. I need to stop running. Stop shopping. Stop planning. Just stop. And listen.

How often do I ask someone, “How are you?”, only to be told, “I’m fine.” And I’m off and running. Rarely does anyone tell me how they really are and sadly, if they do, chances are I really don’t want to hear the details. “Fine” is just fine. Putting on my brakes and listening, really listening takes time and requires me to engage; to be present; to care. This is not always convenient. And it’s definitely not easy.

At a time when everyone else is running around getting ready for Christmas, I need to sit quietly and think and perhaps pray but certainly LISTEN. My lovely wife sometimes asks, “Did you hear me?” “Huh?” is often my response. I hear stuff all the time but listening is different than hearing. Hearing is just the act of perceiving sounds, but listening is something that I must consciously choose to do. Listening requires patience, thoughtfulness and commitment – these are things that are often in short supply.

adventcandlesOf course the hardest person to listen to is myself. I’m a man of action. I like to get stuff done. Sitting and contemplating what needs to be done is a challenge for me. Give me a task and I’m on it. Put up the tree; decorate the house; wrap the gifts; hang the lights – easy stuff. I guess thinking about Jesus coming 2,000 years ago is easy enough. And I can slow down long enough to listen to some Christmas hymns and get my head and heart in the right place. But that’s not what Advent is about. It’s not just the anticipation of His coming as an infant in Bethlehem and His final coming at the end of time but it’s also about Jesus coming to me, right now, right here – and that gets a little messy and scary.

Advent is counter-cultural. It forces me to stop and listen to my own heart. I need to turn off Holiday television specials and the 24-hour-a-day Christmas radio and walk away from the Black Friday Sales long enough to hear what I can hear.

And in the stillness He will come.

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/

 

 

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

 

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

Through The Eyes Of A Child

Do you remember the anticipation of Christmas as a child? For me it was always an exciting time. I tried to patiently wait through the Advent season for the miracle of Christmas.

There were some certainties: practical gifts wrapped in white tissue from my great-aunts (usually socks or underwear), Christmas cookies baked by Mom, Christmas Day gatherings at my grandparents where all my aunts and uncles and cousins would be together.

And of course there were uncertainties: would I get the Erector Set® that I so desperately wanted, and the transistor radio like my brother’s (the one that I not-so-secretly coveted)? Rarely was I disappointed.

St. NickI loved Christmas presents but I knew even as a child that Baby Jesus was always at the center of it. We were raised to believe he would come (again) each year at Christmas. We set our crèche under the tree with all the characters (except baby Jesus of course until Christmas morning). We lit our Advent candles each week. St. Nicholas would come on December 6th and fill our stockings with an orange and some nuts, a peppermint stick and one Hershey® bar (thanks Dad!). At school we would pray and sing carols, collect money for the missions and go to daily Mass. My little Catholic world was secure. And there was abundant joy!

It brings me great comfort in knowing that my wife and I carried on these traditions with our kids. Now our grandkids are celebrating Advent and Christmas in a similar way. Of course they are excited about potential new toys but they also focus on the mystery of Christ’s birth and they pray and sing carols and go to Mass. St. Nicholas paid a visit to them on Sunday morning. They light their Advent wreath and wait. They wait in hope and joy and love.

I still have uncertainties in my life: they are more adult now, more complex, more troubling. Often it is hard not to become overwhelmed. Sometimes I feel desperate.

But I have certainties, too. I have people who love me. I have friends who are making our world a better place each day. My children and grandchildren give me hope for our future. So I light my Advent wreath and I pray for change in our world, in our church, in our city, in our home, in my heart.

I know that Christ will come again this Christmas. I wait with my grandchildren in hope and joy and love. And for just a little while I can see Baby Jesus through the eyes of a child. And I am blessed.

Peace,

Denis