Searching

Have you ever searched for something that you have misplaced? A book; a letter; a photo; a gift certificate put away for safe-keeping. I will look in all the usual hiding places, re-tracing my steps and trying to imagine what I could have done with the lost possession. Surely I didn’t throw it out. Or did I? Was I careless and tossed it out with other discards? Did I hide it away too well? Usually my searches are frantic and relentless. Too often they are fruitless. Sometimes I will find the hidden item with great relief. But mostly I just give up; surrendering the lost item to the great unknown. Is there some black hole in the universe that holds all my lost treasures? I suppose I will never know.

The Prophet Isaiah wrote, “Seek the LORD while he may be found, call upon him while he is near.” Is God another treasure that I have misplaced? Was I careless and too busy with other seemingly more important things to remember where God is in my life? Have I packed God away somewhere safe to retrieve on some special occasion – saving God until I have time or need? Or when I feel sufficiently worthy of God’s love?

It occurred to me this week that in the past I’ve probably misread Isaiah. God can ALWAYS be found and God is ALWAYS near. It’s me that is lost. It’s me that is distant.

So I’m searching. But I’m learning that God isn’t somewhere in the cosmos; somewhere high in the clouds above looking down on me. God is here. God is now.

IMG_4302

A glimpse of heaven

And I’m finding God in the most ordinary places – in Deb’s love and devotion; in my grandchildren’s sweet voices and loving embraces; in the kindness of strangers; in music; in art; in nature; even in myself (often after a frantic and relentless search). God is here. God is now. Sometimes we just need to open our eyes (and our hearts) to see those glimpses of heaven in our midst.

I think that Isaiah was imploring us to make ourselves open to God’s call – “Stop searching; the Lord is here.”

Peace,

Denis

Listen as the St. Louis Jesuits sing: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nLjgnSKepow

Hope

Tragic. Horrific. Unimaginable.

These are just a few of the headline words used to express the shock and dismay of the merciless attack at Sandy Hook Elementary School on Friday morning. Children massacred – it’s still almost too painful to contemplate but I try to understand; to make some sense of it. But I cannot comprehend the hate so virulent in one individual that he would commit the most despicable crime against the most innocent of victims.

As a citizen I am outraged. As a parent and grandparent I am shaken. As a child of God I am broken-hearted.

HandsThere’s a part of me that wants to “put it away”; to not talk about it; not think about it. I would like to tell myself that it happened far away and was random and can NEVER touch me or my precious grandchildren. But as I write this, the tears stream down my face thinking of those grandfathers in Connecticut that won’t get to hold their grandsons and granddaughters on their laps again; who won’t hear giggles and see sweet smiles. Who will never again get another tight squeeze around the neck or a precious kiss on a craggy old face.

Today at Mass our priest asked us to lift up those families in prayer. He implored us to be THE PEACE that we can be in our own families; in our own communities.

I can’t undo the hideous attack that was perpetrated on those children in Connecticut but I can be an agent of peace. I can deplore violence. And I can defuse anger and hatred in my own life. I can try to love as Jesus taught us.

Won’t you join me? Let’s mend broken relationships. Let’s try to ease the pain of others. Let’s stop buying music, movies and video games that glamorize violence. Let’s ask our members of Congress to actively work on real gun control legislation. Let’s stop reacting to violence with more violence.

There is hope amidst the horror. And as we enter into the fourth week of Advent in preparation of the Christ Child, let’s truly create some peace on earth.

Peace,

Denis

The peace of God that surpasses all understanding will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. Philippians 4:7

Prepare the Way

Advent 2012 -4A voice of one crying out in the desert: “Prepare the way of the Lord, make straight his paths. Every valley shall be filled and every mountain and hill shall be made low. The winding roads shall be made straight, and the rough ways made smooth, and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.”     Luke 3:4-6

Luke’s Gospel is actually recalling the words of the Prophet Isaiah. My personal rule is that any time the New Testament quotes the Old Testament we should probably pay attention because apparently it is something that bears repeating.

During Advent we are called to ‘Prepare the Way’. But what does that mean? This reading always leaves me with images of giant earth-movers, backhoes and dump trucks frantically lowering hillsides and filling in ditches and chasms. But is that what Isaiah had in mind? I don’t think so. I believe that Isaiah was speaking metaphorically. I suspect that some of us are the valleys that need to be filled and others of us are the mountains that need to be toppled. And often, I suppose, we’re a bit of both.

I know that my own arrogance, pride and boastfulness need to be ‘made low’. My heart and spirit could use some ‘filling up’ right now. And of course there is plenty that needs to be ‘straightened out’ and ‘made smooth’.

So this Advent season when I hear those ancient words of Isaiah I am reminded that God is not asking me to fix the world. He is not expecting me to make others walk the straight and narrow. He is speaking only to me about me. He is asking me to prepare myself to receive his Son. To let go of my pride and my sinfulness and to be more loving and giving. God is inviting me once again to be filled with his Spirit. And to prepare myself to revel in the birth of our Savior.

Peace,

Denis

O Come Emmanuel

Today is the first Sunday of Advent; the beginning of our preparation for the Christ-Child. And as we do most years, we sang ‘O Come, O Come Emmanuel’ at Mass this morning. That beautiful and mournful and hopeful hymn that has always been part of my life touched my heart in a new way this year.

O come, O come Emmanuel and ransom captive Israel; that mourns in lonely exile here until the Son of God appear

Lonely exile. LONELY EXILE. LONELY EXILE! Those two words kept reverberating in my head. And that’s how I felt (how I feel). In lonely exile here. Our Church has been so busy lately defining what it means to be a Catholic Christian that I feel marginalized.

If you vote for this person you CAN’T really be Catholic; if you support women’s ordination you CAN’T really be Catholic; if you love and support gay families you CAN’T really be Catholic; if you don’t walk in lock step with the Bishops then you CAN’T really be Catholic.

And so I’m an exile. I refuse to exclude; to hate; to judge; to deny love to those who may not follow ALL the rules.

I’ve decided to join the other ‘lonely exiles’ in prayer this Advent season. I will pray for (and with) others in my Church who may feel disenfranchised; who feel left out; shut out; and alone. We may be silenced but our silent prayers cannot be stopped. And we are companions on the journey. God alone listens to our hearts and responds.

O come, Desire of nations, bind in one the hearts of all humankind; Bid thou our sad divisions cease, And be thyself our Prince of Peace.

Advent 2012May you find love, joy, comfort, but mostly peace in this Advent season.

Peace,

Denis

I Give Up!

It’s Lent and Catholics are expected time to ‘give up’ something. In years past I believed that by  ‘giving up’ or ‘doing without’ I was able to prove my mettle. I could wear it like a badge of honor – “Look at me – I’m stoic.” “I must be holy and worthy because I gave up eating chocolate or drinking alcohol, or stopped using curse words (a personal favorite) for forty days!” But didn’t that miss the point? Could I continue to be a jerk and give up candy and God would still be pleased?

I don’t mean to trivialize something that millions hold so dear and I also know that many people choose to make Lenten sacrifices to honor the great sacrifice that Jesus made for us. But for me at times it all seems so silly – so superficial.

“When you fast, anoint your head and wash your face, so that you may not appear to be fasting, except to your Father who is hidden. And your Father who sees what is hidden will repay you.” Matthew 6:17-18

This year, “I give up!” I will let go of my need to ‘let go’.  Instead I will make a concerted effort to ‘do something’. A few years ago a friend sent this to me. It’s not necessarily a Lenten ‘to do list’ but it could be. I’m going to give it a try:

This Year

Mend a quarrel ~ Seek out a forgotten friend

Dismiss suspicion and replace it with trust

Write a love letter ~ Share some treasure

Encourage youth ~ Appreciate one another

Manifest your loyalty in word and deed

Keep a promise ~ Find the time

Forgo a grudge ~ Forgive an enemy

Listen. Listen. Listen. ~ Apologize if you are wrong

Give a soft answer ~ Try to understand

Gladden the heart of a child

Examine your demands on others

Think first of someone else ~ Be kind; be gentle

Laugh a little ~ Laugh a little more

Deserve confidence ~ Flout envy

Take up arms against malice ~ Decry complacency

Express your gratitude ~ Welcome a stranger

Take pleasure in the beauty of the earth

Speak your love ~ Speak it again

Speak it once again

Peace,

Denis

Praying With Anna

My granddaughter Anna prays. And she prays like I wish we could all pray – unabashedly, joyfully and out loud! Of course most 3-1/2 year olds don’t have much inhibition. They’re still too young to be controlled by peer pressure. So I suppose that announcing loudly that she “needs to go potty” or pointing out someone’s obvious physical flaw falls into the same category as public prayer – there’s nothing wrong with it. Time will tell. Hopefully she will learn that some public comment should remain private but I hope that she never loses her zeal for prayer.

Holy Anna

Last week we had lunch at one of her favorite places, Chik-fil-A® and before eating she began singing loudly: 

Thank you Jesus, thank you Jesus; For our food, for our food; And our many blessings, and our many blessings; We love You, we love You!” to the tune of ‘Frere Jacque’, complete with hand gestures. Amen!

Some passersby smiled. Some seemed puzzled. Some seemed genuinely touched by her prayer. Of course I had previously witnessed her new meal prayer ritual and was thrilled that she would sing out in public. God bless her parents and her preschool teacher for teaching her to love Jesus.

One evening last month I was asked to lead the Rosary at our parish. For those of you that don’t know, the Rosary is an ancient prayer of our church that dates back over a thousand years. The Rosary beads are used to mark prayers said in repetition while meditating on the mysteries of Jesus’ life on earth. I used to think that the Rosary was just for the blue-haired old ladies of our parish but I’ve come to honor the tradition that it represents and respect those that have gone before me in their devotion to Mary and the Saints. My Aunt Minnie must be smiling down from heaven.

Anna’s parents, Bess and Travis, had gone out to celebrate their anniversary the evening that I was to lead Rosary and Deb and I had Anna and baby brother Noah for the evening. I decided to take Anna with me. Not certain if she could stand still for the 20 minutes or so that it would take to pray at the grotto, I asked the Holy Spirit to look down on her and be with her. I needn’t bother – Jesus held her up for all of us there to witness.

Although she got a little wiggly at times, she stood beside me with her own little rosary and prayed along. At times I lost my place because I could hear Anna’s tiny voice praying, “Hail Mary, full of grace…” But somehow it only made our prayer gathering that much more meaningful for me. This wasn’t something rehearsed or practiced – this was just pure joy.

At the conclusion of prayer I thanked the small gathering for their patience with us and apologized for whatever distraction Anna might have caused. I was assured by everyone that Anna had made the prayer especially beautiful. I was told by one person that he was quite certain that Mary’s statue could be seen smiling. I don’t think that plaster can smile but I know that I was beaming!

Pray on, Anna, pray on! Pawpaw’s learning to do the same.

Peace,

Denis

National Day of Prayer

Today marks the 60th anniversary of the ‘National Day of Prayer’.
According to the official website http://nationaldayofprayer.org: The mission of the National Day of Prayer Task Force is to mobilize prayer in America and to encourage personal repentance and righteousness in the culture.

The believer in me wants to embrace a ‘Day of Prayer’ but the cynic in me just can’t quite get past The National Day of Prayer Task Force.

Their website goes on to say:
(That) like Thanksgiving or Christmas, this day has become a national observance placed on all Hallmark calendars and observed annually across the nation. Really? Hallmark® calendars??? Well I guess that makes it official AND mandatory. After all, everyone knows that Hallmark® must be obeyed – otherwise there would be no Professional Assistants’ Day or Grandparents’ Day or “No, You Didn’t Win But You Were A Great Participant” Day.

I don’t mean to trivialize something that means so much to so many but I believe that they have done that to themselves by invoking Hallmark®.

I guess I felt a little better after I continued to read and found this on their webpage:
The National Day of Prayer belongs to all Americans. It is a day that transcends differences, bringing together citizens from all backgrounds.

Which reminds me of a joke –
There was a nun teaching a Kindergarten class. She asked the children what they wanted to be when they grew up. Sister asked the first little girl, “Patty, what would you like to be when you grow up?” Little Patty replied, “Sister when I grow up I want to be a doctor.” Sister replied, “Oh Patty, that’s wonderful. Doctors care for people and help them stay healthy and strong.” Then she asked little Tommy what he would like to be. He replied, “Sister, when I grow up I want to be a fireman.” “Oh Tommy, that’s wonderful, firefighters help save lives and property.” Sister then asked, “Mary, what would you like to be?” Little Mary replied very proudly, “Sister, when I grow up I want to be a prostitute!” With that, Sister grabbed her heart and fell faint to the floor. When she came to she asked, “Mary, WHAT DID YOU SAY that you want to be when you grow up?” Mary responded emphatically, “A prostitute, Sister!” With that, Sister responded, “Oh thank God! I thought you said Protestant!”

Okay, so now I’m the one being trivial.

But my point is this: Let’s pray that we can transcend our differences. Let’s build more bridges and fewer fences. Not just one day a year but everyday. I may be a Catholic but I can pray for Protestants (and not for their conversion). I can ask for their prayers, too. When my son was deployed to Iraq (the first time) my Evangelical friend was the one that held me in her arms and prayed for his protection and God’s mercy. One of my best friends is Jewish but I don’t feel a need to remind him that Jesus is my Savior. He knows what I believe AND he respects it. And I know that God holds him in the palm of His hand, too.

Prayer can be transcendent. But first we must remember that none of us has all the answers. We just need to surrender to God. And then let go…

Peace,

Denis

Praying With Men

On Saturday my son-in-law Travis and I went to a ‘Men’s Day of Recollection’. This has become an annual event for our parish and it is held at a local Catholic high school nearby. I don’t know who named it ‘Day of Recollection’. It could just as easily be called ‘Day of Renovation or Reconstruction or Restoration’ but that’s beside the point. Each year the format is basically the same although the themes vary – but not greatly. This year was not much different from the other years that I’ve attended with one exception – I prayed. Now I know that probably sounds strange but it’s not that strange for me. I have attended many workshops and retreats and not prayed – NOT REALLY PRAYED anyway. I guess I’ve just been sort of programmed to pay polite attention to the presenter and participate in the discussions and attend the obligatory Mass and sing the hymns. And that’s what I usually do – just barely do.

You see I can’t remember when I haven’t been angry at my Church (at the institutional Church). And in fact part of the presentation on Saturday was about how all mainline churches are losing members in droves and how the Catholic Church is no exception – and I thought; well no duh! As the talk continued, we were somehow supposed to take comfort (or shame – not sure here) about the fact we are not alone. The Presbyterians, and The Lutherans, and The Baptists, and The Episcopalians are all in the same boat with us Catholics. I’m not sure if ‘the why’ was explained but I think it has something to do with our secular world not wanting to FOLLOW THE RULES. And that includes our acceptance of abortion, gay marriage, female clergy, and bargaining rights for public-sector employees. (Just kidding about that last one – although I have a feeling some men in attendance were thinking it). Anyway that’s about when I started to fade out. Whenever someone starts throwing around the word ‘secular’ I feel as though I’m blushing because I believe ‘secular’ might be code for ‘Denis Wilhelm and his kind’. After all, I voted for Barack Obama and my favorite nuns are the ones that don’t wear habits.

So while I was (sort of) zoned out. I started praying. I prayed for our pastor (who was our presenter). I prayed for the other men attending the retreat. I prayed for Travis, whose love motivated me to be there in the first place. But mostly I prayed for myself – for patience; for understanding; for guidance. I prayed my granddaughter Anna’s guardian angel prayer: “Angel of God, my guardian dear, to whom God’s love commits me here; ever this day be at my side; to light, to guard, to rule, to guide. ~ Amen”

It’s funny that a child’s prayer would bring me great comfort at that moment. I realized (once again) that I AM A CATHOLIC – warts and all. I understood more clearly that all of us men who were gathered there on Saturday brought our strengths and weaknesses to God. Some of us were just searching for a way to live in peace. Some of us were mired in the need for ‘black and white’ answers in a world where all the questions are shades of gray. Some of us were holding on to hurt and pain for years or decades that we can’t (or won’t) let go. And some, like me, were carrying all of those things.

And in the strength of those seventy-odd men I was reminded that if God can continue to forgive me for my failings – I can continue to seek the Truth. I will commit myself to living my faith. And I will (try to) follow the rules. But I will also never stop questioning, challenging, hoping for a better world, a better church, a better community.

I know that we are perfected in Christ. For some of us it just takes a little longer. Now if I could just be as patient with myself as God is with me…

Maybe it should be called ‘Men’s Day of Recalibration’.

Peace,

Denis

Prayer (and other questionable activities)

If you’re like me (hopefully you’re not) then you probably wonder sometimes if prayer makes any difference. There are those days when I feel as though my prayers are just empty words (thoughts) and then there are those days when I can’t even get myself to pray – why bother? The problems of the world just seem too overwhelming and my simple requests for peace; for justice; for equality; seem silly and selfish. Who am I to think (believe?) that God has time to listen to me? And what about those days when I’m not sure God exists? That can’t help my cause(s) –  if I’ve just questioned God’s existence only to follow-up with “okay if you do exist; here’s my list of stuff that needs to be your number one priority”.  What’s a struggling believer to do? 

For me – it’s more prayer.  Because I don’t know what else to do. That’s not exactly inspiring is it? And that’s probably because so often I don’t feel particularly inspired. But I pray. And if God does exist then She must have incredible patience. Lately I like to think of God as Maya Angelou or Sister Fidesta (my high school math teacher) – tough but gentle women with hearts of gold. The kind of God that won’t be shocked by my actions (or inactions) and who will take the time to listen (really listen) before showing me the error of my ways.

As I get older I find that I do remember to thank God for all my blessings but still my prayer life seems to be dominated by petitions – “take care of my wife; my kids; grandkids; friends in needs; the sick; the suffering; the dying; etc”.  Then there are the (sort of) secondary prayers – “please help me with work; with our finances; with my diet and exercise”.  Finally, my prayers often fall into the truly mundane or incredibly ridiculous – “please let the Packers make it to the playoffs or please let my favorite pair of jeans be clean” – God must really love those!

But I believe that God has a sense of humor (which would explain why men have nipples).  And God likely laughs at some of my crazy ramblings but still knows my heart and gives me what I truly need.  So I keep praying (and questioning) and hoping that my prayers make a difference. Often I do find that my prayers are answered; just not the way I wanted them to be. God knows best. That’s sometimes a tough thing to remember. And I guess that’s something else to pray for – understanding.

My prayer today is that each of you have a wonderful new year and remember to thank God (or at least your lucky stars) for your blessings.

Peace,

Denis

This song speaks to me…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uPNv5bv0t40

Jerks and Killers

Years ago my wife told me that all people were either basically good or basically bad.  In her explanation she gave the following examples:  Good = saints and various kind people.  Bad = jerks and killers.  It’s an understatement to say that those are pretty broad categories.  My kids and I have laughed at this pronouncement ever since but I’ve been married to Deborah for over 35 years now and I understand that to her it makes perfect sense.  I suppose that if humans and pigs share 99% of the same DNA then it’s not unreasonable to believe that saints and kind people and jerks and killers belong in the same behavioral categories.  I just hope Deb includes me in the “good” category.

Today I would like to focus on the jerks and killers. 

Lately at work someone has been brewing very weak coffee.  We have a ‘state of the art’ brewing system that a trained chimp could operate and yet EVERY morning I pour a cup of weak-ass coffee because some jerk can’t follow the simple instructions.  Hey stupid – you might as well drink hot water!  I’ve yet to discover who the jerk that can’t make coffee is.  But I have my suspicions.

There is a traffic merge near my office where EVERY night some jerks feel the need to stop.  YOU DON’T NEED TO STOP – IT’S A MERGE!  All these jerks are doing is holding up traffic. This is a daily annoyance.  For the love of God – read the sign.  Keep the traffic moving!  Of course my honking and yelling never seems to positively influence the offenders. 

My next door neighbor’s lawn looks like a cross between a mole farm and a prairie grass preserve.  Hey hillbilly – if you don’t want to take care of your lawn then don’t have one!  Move to an apartment or condo development where they take care of that sort of thing for you.  Look around jerk neighbor – you’re the only one whose lawn looks like a toxic waste dump. 

At the gym I attend there are several jerks but the one that is most offensive is the crazy guy that jumps from machine to machine and then becomes noticeably irritated, muttering curse words under his breath, when someone else decides to use the equipment that he had planned on “jumping to” next.  This guy might be slightly unstable (his appearance would tend to make you think so) but regardless he’s a jerk supreme. 

So when do jerks cross the line and become killers?  Do all jerks have the capacity for murder?  And should I be concerned about the jerk at the gym “snapping” and killing me for using a piece of equipment that he planned on using next?

If the shirt fits - wear it!

Unfortunately Debbie doesn’t have any answers for those questions.  So rather than worry about being killed by some jerk.  I’ve decided to work hard on not becoming a jerk myself and eventually a killer.  I suppose the whole jerk/killer thing could be a slippery slope. 

And now I’m wondering if I am considered a jerk by others?  Someone might be writing about me at this precise moment. 

I’m the jerk that bitches about the coffee EVERY morning.  I’m the jerk that honks at drivers EVERY night.  I’m the jerk that gives my neighbor the ‘cold shoulder’ because of his inferior lawn care ability.  And I’m the jerk at the gym that jumps on a piece of equipment right before someone else was planning on using it.    

Oh no!  I may not be a good person after all.  Don’t tell Debbie.  But please help me before I kill someone!  Your prayers will be appreciated.

Peace,

Denis