Sunday, December 16, 2012

Casper...Newtown...We Are All Connected

On Friday, November 30, a young man murdered two people then killed himself. One of the victims was the young man’s father. The murder took place in the father’s classroom at Casper College in Casper, Wyoming, in front of the father’s students. A parent murdered by his own son. A group of young people having to witness the horror. I have an indirect connection to this horror because the husband of a friend of mine is one of the Vice Presidents of the college.

We are all connected.

Two days ago a young man in Newtown, Connecticut murdered his mother then drove to an elementary school where he murdered twenty children and six adults then killed himself. Another parent murdered by her own son, and this time six other adults and twenty small children died as well. This time small children both witnessed and fell victim to the horror. And again a connection. The granddaughter of a long-time friend attends the school where the massacre took place.

We are all connected.

At church this morning in our adult Sunday school class we heard a presentation about Palestinian children being terrorized and sometimes killed by Israeli soldiers in the Occupied Territories. Still another connection. The woman who did the presentation is a long-time acquaintance who has visited Palestine numerous times and been witness to the events she spoke about.

We are all connected.

Between Sunday school and worship I told a friend about the connection I have with the killings in Casper and in Newtown. I was in tears and he was nearly so.

We are all connected.

Later during the worship service I found I could not sing the songs. I could not chant the psalm. I could not say the creed. I could not pray the prayers. All I could manage was to make the sign of the cross and utter a whispered “amen” at the end of the prayers. During the Prayers of the People we heard the names of all the victims of Friday’s shooting read aloud. I am glad they were included.

We are all connected.

Two prayers came to my mind. The first was prayed by my priest, Lorraine Ljunggren, on Friday:

“Holy God, who desires life for all: We commend to your loving care this day those little ones and grown ones of your family --the human family -- who died today in the Connecticut school. We pray that the strength and power of your mysterious Holy Spirit will uphold and sustain all who mourn, particularly the parents and guardians, the families and friends of those who have died. Comfort all who mourn and grant us the courage to be makers of peace wherever our paths take us. All these things we pray for people of all faith and for those who claim none, and we pray in your Holy Name. Amen.”

We are all connected.

The second prayer was prayed by Rabbi Rachel Barenblat:
“God, let me cry on Your shoulder.
Rock me like a colicky baby.
Promise me You won't forget
each of Your perfect reflections
killed today. Promise me
You won't let me forget, either.
I'm hollow, stricken like a bell.
Make of my emptiness a channel
for Your boundless compassion.
Soothe the children who witnessed
things no child should see,
the teachers who tried to protect them
but couldn't, the parents
who are torn apart with grief,
who will never kiss their beloveds again.
Strengthen the hands and hearts
of Your servants tasked with caring
for those wounded in body and spirit.
Help us to find meaning
in the tiny lights we kindle tonight.
Help us to trust
that our reserves of hope
and healing are enough
to carry us through.
We are Your hands: put us to work.
Ignite in us the unquenchable yearning
to reshape our world
so that violence against children
never happens again, anywhere.
We are Your grieving heart.”

We are all connected

During her sermon this morning Lorraine talked about how she believes with all her heart that God is with and within us in the midst of even the most intense pain and suffering the times when there is no sense to be made of what is happening around us. And she reminded us why week after week we gather around the table to share bread and wine, the sacrament of that very real presence. I found myself drawn to her absolute faith.

We are all connected.

During the Eucharistic Prayer as the celebrant said the words of consecration I found my gaze fixed on the bread and wine there on the table. Two words came to me. They repeated themselves over and over in my mind, “Be there…Be there…Be there.” As we gathered around the table I looked around the circle of fellow parishioners, some friends, some acquaintances, and the words kept repeating themselves, “Be there…Be there…Be there.” When the bread was placed in my open palm, instead of immediately putting it into my mouth I gazed at it there in my hand for a few seconds. “Be there…Be there…Be there.”

We are all connected.

When I cannot sing, someone somewhere is singing for me. When I cannot pray, someone somewhere is praying my prayers for me. When I cannot believe, someone somewhere is believing for me.

We are all connected.

Be there…Be there…Be there...

And be here, too.

We are all connected.

Friday, December 7, 2012

Beatitudes

The idea for a series of photographs with the Beatitudes as theme came to me at church one Sunday morning in the middle of the sermon. My dream is to have a total of sixteen images, two for each of the eight Beatitudes as told in Matt. 5:3-10. I have seven so far and my eyes are open for eleven more. They will present themselves to me in their own time
 
Blessed are the poor in spirit...
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
*
*
Blessed are those who mourn...
for they will be comforted.
*
*
Blessed are the meek...
 for they will inherit the earth.
*
*
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness...
 for they will be filled.
 
*
*
Blessed are the merciful...
for they will receive mercy.
*
*
Blessed are the pure in heart...
for they will see God.
*
*
Blessed are the peacemakers...
 for they will be called children of God.
 
*
*
Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake...
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
*

Soul Mates

We are never truly apart from...
 
 
 
those with whom...
 
 
we have a deep, intimate spiritual connection.
 
 


Wednesday, December 5, 2012

Welcome Billie Sue! (Just a bit late, but...)



I wrote this over a year ago and had not thought of posting it here until today.
 
Billy Sue had lived at For the Love of Dogs, a wonderful rescue shelter in Wilson, N.C., since 2004. She had come to them when her "owner", a nomadic man, passed away. For years he wandered Wilson County carrying a large cross, all of his possessions, and his 2 dogs attached to him by a rope. Billie Sue was one of those dogs. If only she could tell her stories! There was never enough food, never enough structure, and never enough love. At For the Love of Dogs she made up for lost time on the love front! However, Billie Sue needed a good home to call her own where belly rubs, love and attention come from more than the few hurried volunteers rushing back and forth, promising to return later for some one-on-one time that rarely comes in a rescue sanctuary with well over 150 dogs. Billy Sue adores everyone she meets and is starved for attention. She gives enough love for five dogs. Even after six years in the shelter she had not been adopted, and one of the For the Love of Dogs volunteers made it her mission to find Billie Sue a home. Shortly before Christmas 2010, she put an announcement and Billie Sue’s story on Facebook. As soon as Carroll read the announcement we pretty much knew Billie Sue would be coming to live with us. On January 3, 2011 we brought her home for a week-long "trial visit". One night was all it took for us to know Billie Sue had found her home. On January 6 we went back to For the Love of Dogs and finalized her adoption. Welcome home, Billie Sue!




Sunday, September 2, 2012

I'm 64 and I'm Tired, Too

One of the first things I saw on the internet this morning was a piece, attributed to Bill Cosby, entitled "I'm 83, and I'm Tired." Before I finished the first paragraph I thought "there is no way this was written by Bill Cosby", and a two-minute internet search proved I was correct. It was a pompous, malicious, racist, hate-filled rant that glorified greed and vilified the poor, Muslims and others. In some ways it reminded me of Ayn Rand.  Frankly, it made me sick. I went to church seething.

One of the readings at church was James 1:17-27. Here is the last sentence:
"Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to care for orphans and widows in their distress, and to keep oneself unstained by the world."

In her sermon my priest pointed out that the widows and orphans stand for all those on the margins of society, the poor, the stranger, those in any kind of need.

The gospel reading for today was Mark 7:1-8, 14-15, 21-23. The reading ends with this:
Then he [Jesus] called the crowd again and said to them, "Listen to me, all of you, and understand: there is nothing outside a person that by going in can defile, but the things that come out are what defile. For it is from within, from the human heart, that evil intentions come: fornication, theft, murder, adultery, avarice, wickedness, deceit, licentiousness, envy, slander, pride, folly. All these evil things come from within, and they defile a person."

Our priest commented that if it were her list, she would add "silence." A very good point! So here goes...

I'm 64 years old, and I am tired, too.

I'm tired of the ridiculous fantasy of the rugged individual, the self-made man or woman. There is no such thing, unless there happens to be a person who crawled from under a rock on some desert island and never once laid eyes on another human being. And even then, that person did not make the island or the rock; they are both a part of God's creation.

I am tired of morality being used only in terms of sexual behavior, and I am tired of being surrounded by the worship of money and power.

I am 64 years old, an only child. My parents divorced when I was a baby, and my mother worked hard just to get by. I attended public schools; thank God my mother could not afford to send me to some elitist private school where I would be insulated from the real world. I had my first job when I was 14 years old, worked my way through a state college and got a relatively good paying job. I have everything I need and many of the things I want. And I realize I could not have done any of this without having been born with at least above average intelligence and without my community...in all it's forms...family, church, friends, and yes...gasp!!!...the government. I had no control over any of the factors. I learned, thanks to that community, that my success, such that it is carries with it a responsibility to the community.

I'm tired of hearing about how the poor in our society have some sort of sense of entitlement. I'm 64 years old and am tired of hearing folks like me and those who are even better off than I am whine about being oppressed, over taxed and threatened. Most of my working life was spent in a job that required me to delve deeply into the finances of folks from the entire socio-ecnomic spectrum, from the poorest to the most wealthy. In my experience, with a few exceptions, that sense of entitlement grows larger and larger as the balance in the checkbook increases.

I'm 64 years old and am tired of seeing folks on the margins in our society being blamed for all their, and our, problems.

I'm tired of racism and bigotry in all it's forms. I'm tired of people assuming that because I am a 64 year old white male from the south I find their racist, sexist, bigoted jokes and comments funny.

I'm tired of hearing this country was founded on Christian principles, and I have three questions for those who make the claim, But those are for another day.

I'm tired of seeing the Bible used to bludgeon my friends in the LGBT community.

I'm 64 years old, and I am tired of hearing how we should post the Ten Commandments at the courthouse, but not one person suggesting we post the Beatitudes.

I'm 64 years old, and I am tired of seeing willful ignorance glorified and intelligence vilified. And I am tired of hearing, "I respect him because he stands up for what he believes." "He" can believe the world is flat, that the sun orbits the earth or that a woman cannot get pregnant fom being raped if "he" chooses to believe that. But I do not respect his standing up for his beliefs when they have no basis in reality.

I'm tired of hearing table blessings ending with, "and keep us mindful of the needs of others," prayed by people who have no idea about the needs of others because they simply don't care about the others. The holiday season will be here soon, and I am tired of seeing people give a few dollars or food or toys to some charity for those "less fortunate" at Thanksgiving and Christmas then ignore those "less fortunate" the other 363 days of the year.

I could go on and on.

Yes, I'm 64 years old, and I'm tired. And I'm angry, too, but I do feel better thanks to the good people in my life who teach, bless and uplift me.

Friday, August 31, 2012

Wish List

I posted this to Facebook on August 30:

I have a wish list; it‘s not very long:

~I want ALL my friends to be able to marry the person they love and NONE of them to fear losing their job or home because they happen to be a member of a sexual minority.

~If one of my daughters or granddaughters is ever raped and gets pregnant I want her to have easy access to a safe and legal abortion without anyone, politician or otherwise, standing between her and her doctor.

~I want people of faith to respect and honor their differences and realize there is much to be learned from those of other faiths.

~I want the minimum wage to be a living wage.

~I want intelligence, not willful ignorance, to be a virtue.

~I want science taught in science class and mythology taught in literature class.

Sunday, August 19, 2012

Mary's Announcement

A friend of ours died a while back. The night before the saying of the Burial Office, friends and family gathered at the funeral home to comfort one another, to reminisce, to cry together and, yes, occasionally to laugh together.

Across the hall from the viewing parlor was a snack bar with vending machines, tables, a microwave oven, etc. Our friend’s daughter had “set up shop” there for her daughters providing them with books, games, and toys with which to amuse themselves and pass the time. This was no attempt to isolate the children as they were free to move back and forth between this room and the parlor where their grandfather’s body lay in the open casket and where mourners gathered.

Our friend’s granddaughter, I’ll call her Mary, was four at the time and is very fond of our granddaughters, Andrea and Ellie. At some point during the evening Mary crossed the hall into the viewing parlor and someone told her that Andrea and Ellie would be there soon. Upon hearing this, Mary raced back to the snack bar and announced to everyone there, “Grandpa is still dead, but Andrea and Ellie are coming!”

It is tempting to think “She’s only four and obviously doesn’t understand death.” True no doubt, but perhaps there is more to it,

The story challenges me to admit I don’t understand death any better than a four year old. It is an Advent, story of eagerly awaiting the arrival of one whose presence is longed for. It is Christmas story to be kept and pondered in the heart the way Mary, the mother of Jesus, kept and pondered the words of the shepherds. It is an Easter story of hope and joy laughing in the face of death and sorrow.  The story helps me understand why Jesus had the adults step aside and let the children come up front. It is the children who can accept without reservation Jesus’ announcement that the realm of God is at hand, that “Grandpa is still dead, but Andrea and Ellie are coming!”

Thursday, August 16, 2012

It Happened on The Feast of St. Laurence

On August 11, I wrote to a friend and described what I called an I-can't-not-do-this experience:
"Yesterday was the Feast of St. Laurence. I had intended to honor 'my' saint by doing some particular act of service, but failed to make plans; the day crept up on me. So I spent part of the day wondering what I might or could have done. Yesterday evening I was leaving the public library when an older (at least he looked older) and obviously needy man engaged me in conversation. We actually had a nice chat, then he asked the inevitable(?) question: would I happen to have some change to spare so he could buy some food? I gave him the $5.00 I had in my wallet, and said to him, 'You've answered a question I have been asking myself all day today.' Not surprisingly this went right past him, but he did thank me and offered me his hand. We shook hands, and I could not help but notice his firm grip. As we shook hands I looked him in the eye and said, 'Please take good care of yourself, ok?' I stood there and watched as he headed toward the library entrance. As he approached the door a young woman came out, a stack of books in one hand and a baby carrier/carseat in the other. She put the carrier down, and was fumbling as best she could with one hand to drape a cover across the carrier, I suppose to shade the baby from the sun. The man stopped, helped her with it, then went into the library. As I stood there I had a vision of him in the library, finding a book and sitting down to read it. Frankly I don't yet understand the vision. It was certainly not one of expectation and to say it was one of hope seems somehow to oversimplify it. Or maybe that's just my ego getting in the way, wanting to make things more complicated than they really are."

Earlier I had written about an experience of coming very near to hearing a voice when there was no one there, so I concluded my message with, "...thank you for being the type of friend with whom I can be perfectly at ease talking about 'voices' and 'visions' knowing you will understand."

My friend replied:
"Your description of that day was so interesting to me and I think voices and visions are your awareness become more acute. I think the voices and visions are always there, but you were at that moment tuned in. I think the vision was you sending the man compassion and peace-- that it rose spontaneously from the God-in-you-ness of your spirit, surprising even your own worldly self. I think it was your ego getting OUT of the way...[A]ttentiveness and transformation--we can miss so much if we don't pay attention and we have been trained to fill our minds with thoughts to avoid paying attention."

Thomas Merton wrote, "Our job is to love others without stopping to inquire whether or not they are worthy. That is not our business, and, in fact, it is nobody's business. What we are asked to do is love, and this love itself will render both ourselves and our neighbors worthy if anything can."

I can't think of a more difficult challenge or one more worthy. The task of loving, of getting our egos out of the way so we are free to love without regard to "worthiness", is the work of a lifetime. But I find that at those times when I do so, I encounter those I-can't-not-do-this moments, and the paradox of not really having a choice of how to respond frees me from my ego's need to control, frees me to live in the moment. The "voices" say to me, "you matter," and the "visions" as well as my actions may just be a way of passing that message on.

Role Models

Role Models

Recently, I've been thinking about role models.  We seem to be intent on looking for them in the wrong places.  Whenever we look to those who are rich, powerful, popular, or any combination of the three we are making a fundamental error.  If you are an inhabitant of the mundane world in which the overwhelming majority of us are born, die and struggle to do the best we can in between, I suggest you may want to look elsewhere.  Whether it be an athlete, politician, wealthy business person, actor, rock star or any other celebrity for that matter we best be careful when we elevate them to the level of role model because chances are that ultimately they will fail us, and then what do we do with them?

I do have a few suggestions as to the type of people we might look to as role models for the lives we are living.

There's the man who works two jobs every day just to make ends meet and support his family. But when his brother-in-law takes off leaving behind our man's sister and his nephew he always manages to have time to be a father to that nephew so the child will grow up knowing he was loved.

There's the clergyman who in the 1960's had the courage to stand before conservative, southern congregations and suggest to them that maybe African-Americans should have the same rights and privileges in this country as do their white neighbors, and today he makes the same case for LGBT persons, immigrants and the other disinherited ones among us.

And there's the man who gets out of bed at first light, puts on his work clothes, fetches his chainsaw from the barn and heads next door to remove the tree that last night's tornado deposited across the home of his elderly neighbors.

There's the priest who shows up at the hospital at 7:00 a.m. because one of her parishioners is having surgery this morning. She offers prayers, touch and perhaps most important of all a comforting presence, an incarnation of God's presence there in that hospital room.

There's the woman who comes home worn out from working all night but rather than go to the bed she so desperately longs for she makes breakfast for her children and sees to it they are dressed and off to school.

There is the woman who takes time to sit with her neighbor who yesterday had to have a beloved cat whom she had adopted many years ago put to sleep and now must experience the grief accompanying such a loss.

There is the small group of people who gather outside the gates of Central Prison at 2:00 a.m. on a cold, rainy February morning. They are there to protest and hold vigil as the State of North Carolina executes a condemned man.

There is the couple in their late 60's who every year return, at their own expense, to Malawi where they met many years ago while working as Peace Corps volunteers.  They go there to work with the Malawi Childrens' Village, a group of people who are doing their best to take care of hundreds of orphans most of whom have lost their  parents to  AIDS.

And there is the woman who, when she learns of the death of the cancer patient she was hired to care for during the day while the patient's family was away at work, calls and says she will be over this morning to clean house for the family and, no, she will not under any circumstances let the family pay her for the work.

These are a few examples from the world in which I live. Be careful how you choose your role models; they inform the way you order your life. And your children and grandchildren are watching!