The aftermath

It felt as if we did Christmas twice this year, the family gathering part, anyhow. Maybe that's because we DID do it twice. Twice blessed.
But never were we all together at once this year. I used to like having everyone over at the same time. It was exhausting, and the house was way too full, but in a good way. We would have Laura and Kim, and their respective spouses, and Dylan, Joey and Donny, and Courtney and Greg, and sometimes one or more of their friends. And of course Todd and Chad, and sometimes one or more of their friends. And occasionally one of Kim's friends would show up. We'd have up to 16 or 18 people here, many generations and many individuals sharing all sorts of memories, laughing and bickering, coming and going.
This year, on Christmas Day we had Kim and Gary, and Courtney and Craig, and of course Todd was around. Chad stopped by on his way to work later in the evening. Today we had Laura and Dave, and Donny, and Joey.
And Todd was here,  but sleeping most of the time. It was nonetheless wonderful to see everyone. I would love to have them all come at the same time, sooner or later, or as many as possible.
Because when kids grow up, they have work schedules, they get too busy to come by, they can't all make it at the same time. But here's the thing. Disruptions and stress aside, as a child I always wanted to have a home that people were welcome to come and hang out at. It didn't happen. I tried to make my household more the way I wanted, and in some respects I succeeded.
I hope that my kids and grandkids will always have good memories of holidays here, and that they will keep coming back to visit on holidays, as they are able. Even though I am too busy to just be here whenever, the holidays are still for family gatherings as well as worship with our church family.
Tomorrow it's back to work, but not quite back to normal yet. That will come soon enough. Now I can bask a little in the afterglow of the Christmas gatherings.

Christmas Day 2011 is waning. I spent most of Christmas Eve at church, a most satisfying way to spend Christmas Eve. I played with my son and another young woman as a trio at his church, a Unitarian Universalist Fellowship, I unfortunately had to run from there to my church so I could play violin at the 8 p.m. Mass, so I didn't have an opportunity to hang out at there and talk to people. Then I rang handbells before the 10 p.m. Mass.
Last week I read an entry in Joy In This Journey, an evangelical Christian blog by a young woman named Joy. The entry is called "When I Sing Those Songs, I Lie to God." She had an interesting take on hymn singing. She said she feels like she's lying to God when she sings many of the hymns, so she often chooses not to sing them, because it seems hypocritical if she is not living what the hymn says.
I have been thinking about that. I disagree, respectfully.
I find that singing hymns in church is no different than praying. Song is prayer. Even if I haven't made God the center of my life every minute, when I sing those words, I feel it, I mean it and I think God knows I mean it. I can't always live up to it. I am a sinner and an imperfect human being. But singing those words (or whatever words are in any hymn we sing) helps me renew my determination to do better. It commits me to trying. And to me, it carries more weight than simply saying the words.
I have never chosen NOT to sing a hymn because I felt I hadn't lived up to them. I choose to sing them because I WANT to live them.

My new tennis habit

I agreed to play in the Celebrity Pro-Am tournament, Purnell-Thomas Memorial Tournament, 2011. Didn't realize that I might be the only female player. It's a men's tournament. The other celebrities I was told about are Bill Reddish of WICO radio, Don Elkins of WBOC TV and me. Not sure who else is involved.

I am getting coached by an impressive figure, Vaughan Baker. He invited me to do this, and I told him I needed some pointers because I am not a tennis player. He loaned me a tennis racket, so he must realize I don't know what I'm doing. But he agreed.

I had my first tennis lesson this morning, Tuesday, July 19. I thoroughly enjoyed it, much to my surprise. He said he was favorably impressed, and he sounded genuine. I know I am impressed. He said he's coached the likes of John McEnroe. Now, I will never be pro material of course. But given the right connections, I could come to enjoy this game, and maybe this is the exercise outlet I've been needing.

We'll see how stiff and sore these old muscles are in the morning. I have a second session scheduled for 8 a.m. Wednesday. After an hour of running around hitting balls and taking frequent breaks to catch my breath and drink some water, I felt pretty energized and upbeat. But tomorrow may be another story. My aerobic capacity may be the biggest drawback. I'll need to build stamina to play in the tournament. But I feel better about it, I truly do.

Memorial Day Reflections

I went to a Memorial Day concert at Christ United Methodist Church this evening. I don't usually go to Memorial Day events. But this morning, I went to Mass at 9 a.m., which was partly about Memorial Day but also a Marian feast day. Still, we honored our military heroes, the fallen ones, and paid our respect. Then a good and persistent friend suggested I should go to this concert, and went out of his way to get tickets for me (which no one ever asked for, so I still have them).

At first, I thought about how a concert with such a huge choir would never happen at my church. But for good reason. We don't mix religion and patriotism. We are a universal church and while we acknowledge national holidays, we do not dwell on being patriotic. We do not mix up God and country. More on that later.

The performance tonight was absolutely the best Memorial Day event I've ever attended. Our troops and our military, all branches, were represented and honored. We were treated to a list of all 50 states, named in the order they joined the union, and the year they joined. That was different. We heard some excellent singing, a few familiar tunes, and some I'd never heard before. Nice video to go along with it.

Then, a little bit of religion was thrown into the mix. Now, don't get me wrong, we were in a church and it was not unexpected that God would be mentioned. But I kind of cringe when patriotic freedom themes are seasoned with religion.

I think that most people, when they hear or think about freedom of religion, they think about how they are free to worship as they please, but they don't think so much about people who worship in ways that are different from them having that same freedom. I don't think folks always consider what it's like for Americans who are not Christians, or perhaps not members of major world religions. We have Jewish Americans, Muslim Americans, wiccan Americans, Native Americans who practice their ancestors' religions. We have atheists and agnostics, Hindu Americans and Buddhist Americans. I'm sure I've missed some, but you get the idea.

Would most proponents of injecting God more into our public life -- government, schools and such -- be so enthusiastic if you substituted one of those in the mix, and tried to make some other religion the mainstream faith in America? I dare say many would not be comfortable with that.

But not to detract from the event tonight. It was a delight.

I also worry that younger Americans are not so dedicated to our country. They are more globally oriented, and that may be a good thing for them, but for our country's future, not so much. I believe many of today's young adults would sooner abandon America than fight to the death for her. I hope that I am wrong, and I hope that if I am wrong, they never have to do that.

Freedom, liberty, all important. And there are ways to steal them from us without firing a gun or declaring war or any of that. Those are subtle things we must be alert for. And somehow, we need to teach our children and grandchildren to love our country, because unless we let it slip away, this is the one place on Earth with the most freedoms, the best lifestyle and highest quality of life. Those things are being stolen from us, and that makes me sad. How? With things like the Patriot Act, which implies that it's patriotic to give up our privacy rights and liberty. With outsourcing of jobs so that corporations can post ever larger profit reports and pay their CEOs millions more each year while middle-class America is dying on the vine, with no good jobs and less hope for a bright future than ever before. By dividing us against each other. Some people are quicker to demonize and denounce their fellow Americans over ideology than to denounce an enemy that's bleeding us dry, quick to demonize those who are not like us, and not very welcoming to immigrants anymore, if they ever were. By sending our young men and women -- our future -- to countries where they are traumatized, wounded, maimed and killed, and for what? Those countries are no military threat to us here in America. We would be better off if those troops were brought home, where they could protect us from within our own borders from the threats here.

We face huge challenges. Can we rise to the occasion and survive? Can we become a united people in charge of our own destiny again? Can we learn to concede that Americans who have different ideas and perceptions still love our country? We will not stand strong if we are constantly trying to discredit each other and arguing over everything under the sun. Bah.

I am fundamentally an optimist, and I love this country. I know conservatives who love America, and I know liberals who love it. I think we need to pool our strengths and purge our weaknesses, and soon, so we can become strong again. We can do this, but not if we are distracted and bickering with each other.

Tornadoes and other things

Wow, it's been a wild week for weather. So many tornadoes. So scary. And floods, earthquakes, tsunamis and a volcano erupting, all this year.

But back to tornadoes. I saw a short video posted by The Weather Channel's Mike Seidel (of Salisbury, I might add) of a wall cloud. Being curious, I googled wall cloud. Found some gorgeous photos of impressive wall clouds and read that these often precede formation of a tornado.

As I was perusing the photos, however, I realized that while I have  not, to my knowledge, seen an actual wall cloud, I have seen during thunderstorms some cloud formations that resemble the wall clouds. I am not sure exactly what defines and separates a wall cloud from other clouds that might look like them, but I've seen swirly looking clouds like the ones in the photos Google so obligingly provided.

Maybe it's a good thing I didn't know what I was looking at.

There was apparently a tornado just north of the town where I was born, Jonesboro Arkansas.

I've always been terrified by tornadoes. Not sure why. Because they're so unpredictable? They appear so fast, wreak so much havoc in such a short time? I wonder if my fear goes back to watching "The Wizard of Oz" as a child.

It's fascinating how you can be in relatively close proximity to a tornado, watch it, and never be in any danger, but other people are caught up and destroyed in them, or their property is demolished.

We tend to be more threatened by hurricanes here on the coast. Hurricanes are scary, too, but as long as we can preduct them, warn people and so on, we can escape. We can prepare by boarding up windows and leaving the area. You cannot stand nearby and watch a hurricane. It's all-encompassing and quite violent, and it doesn't come and go in moments.

These are scary times. The Earth seems to be in turmoil right now. Something's different. Climate change? Coincidence? Time will tell.

I am not nervous or anxious, though, that's the curious thing. I think I was more anxious when I was younger. Now, I feel more at peace with myself and the world. Thank you, God, for that.

Now that the giddiness is behind us

I wrote this as a comment to another blog that was looking at our reactions as Christians to Osama bin Laden's demise:


I think, I hope, 24 hours later, that the rejoicing was a thoughtless expression of release from the underlying fear, shame, embarrassment and anger we felt as a nation toward an enemy so elusive, it took us nearly a decade to find him.
Osama bin Laden had become for us a symbol of our incompetence, of our vulnerability and national weakness. And after several years not only of the suffering bin Laden had directly or indirectly caused, but also of the subsequent financial collapse and lingering recession, we sorely needed something positive.
And while as a Christian I would never thank God for anyone's death, I really think that as much as the man was a symbol of all that was wrong in America and I guess a boogeyman of sorts, the celebrations were more about restoring a sense of strength and competence again to our country. 
It brought out the best and the worst in us, in a sense.
I can't really honestly say I am sorry he died, but I am conflicted about how it came about. I do know, however, that for as long as humans have inhabited the Earth, there have been wars and injustice and fighting. I do not think this is anywhere near the worst thing mankind has done, but that doesn't make it right, either. I am not even sure that I have figured out what Jesus would do in this instance, either, trite as that sounds. 
Jesus would have loved Osama bin Laden as much as he loves any of us, but we have no way of knowing what was in bin Laden's heart, and if he never accepted God's love, then I've never seen any indication that God the father or Jesus force their love on anyone. 
I also do not think that God's love makes it OK to do the kinds of things bin Laden did. Unless bin Laden somehow realized the wrongness of his life's work and experienced true repentance before he died in that firefight, then I have never seen anything in Scripture that says we will be forgiven automatically. 
This conflicting thought process, along with our blindness to what is in the hearts and souls of others, (blindness in the sense of inability to know, not refusal to know), is why I believe we are told not to judge others and why we do not have the power to determine the fate of others.

Farewell, dear Ruthie

She was just 7 years old the first time I laid eyes on the little blond imp, and I was 15. It was three years after my mother had died, and my father ended up marrying her mother, who had been through a rather unpleasant divorce. I was the typical sullen teenager and she was a little bit of a bratty kid. But I was thrilled at the prospect of having a mother again, sort of.
It didn't all turn out to be a bowl full of cherries. Young Ruthie was difficult at times, demanding and strident. I was withdrawn, never sure how to react to a stepmother who was unpredictable, at least in my eyes. She would be upset with me over something she assumed I knew she did not approve of, and I would often just retreat to my room with hurt feelings and no idea why. In other words, we did not always communicate well. But somehow, we muddled through.
Fast forward to about four or five years ago. I'd encountered Ruth a few times at family gatherings, but by and large her mother had managed to keep the two families fairly separate, often having family affairs twice, once for her children and once for me and my bunch. She talked a lot about her family, and so I felt as if I knew them even though I rarely saw them (she had four children altogether, but only Ruthie had ever lived in the same household as I did).
My father died at age 95, back in 2005, in January. That same year, Ruth was diagnosed with breast cancer. I remember thinking how horrible it was for her mother, losing her husband of 35 years and then having to deal emotionally with her youngest and closest daughter's diagnosis.
A year or so later, I encountered Betty and Ruth in a restaurant in Salisbury, quite by accident. Ruth was wearing the "do-rag" that signals the hair loss that goes with radiation treatments for cancer. We hugged and spoke briefly.
A few years after that, Ruth was in town to settle her father's estate, a farm in Pocomoke City (which had belonged to her mother's family originally). We got to know each other a bit better then, while she was in town. In 2009, I visited Ruth in Las Vegas., By that time, it was a foregone conclusion that Ruth's cancer was terminal, but she was so full of life and sunny in disposition, it was hard to imagine that she was really that sick.
It was the last time I saw her alive. We spoke on the phone a few times, my daughter visited her just a few weeks before the end, and we texted and facebooked from time to time.
When I learned of her passing on April 16, a week before Easter, I was not surprised, but I was saddened. She'd been living in California for the past year, so I wasn't able to be involved in her day-to-day life, but she had wonderful friends and neighbors surrounding her, a loving husband who devoted himself to caring for her and she reconciled with her surviving brother.
I believe she is in a better place now, where there is no more pain and suffering. She did suffer unimaginable pain, I deduce that from things she said, although she never, ever complained to me.
Ruth was a people person, I heard that over and over again at her funeral. She enjoyed outdoor activities, but was not really what you would call an athlete. She wasn't an artist, nor a musican, nor a writer. She was purely a people person who lived in the moment, and when she was with you, she was genuinely fascinated with you, your life, your thoughts. Her smile, infectious laugh and presence could light up a room, and she didn't even have to try. That's why she had accumulated such a devoted following of friends over the years. With all the broken relationships and ways we find to abuse each other in this earthly life, Ruth was a healer of relationships, a shining example of how we should all treat each other. She wasn't bitter or angry about her illness and unfortunate fate, or if she was, she never expressed it to most of us. She posted this in the "about Ruth" section of her facebook profile:
"Every day is a gift - so enjoy!!! Enjoying each & every day of my life."
And she did, I truly believe she did. I hope that she is now resting in the loving arms of God, free of pain and sorrow, and waiting for the rest of us to catch up with her someday.

How good it is to be here

Lent is officially over today, but this is the first chance I've had to write about last week's Gospel reading, the Transfiguration, when Jesus revealed his divinity to Peter, James and John. Peter, the Apostle who so often put his foot into his mouth despite his good intentions, said upon seeing Jesus as divine, alongside Moses and Elijah, "Master, it is good to be here."
He wanted to erect shelters and stay put because it was such a profound and compelling moment.
I was standing in the choir loft while that Gospel reading was proclaimed in church, because we rang handbells at that Mass. I felt a glimmer of understanding and empathy with Peter at that moment, looking down on the congregation and out at the church structure that is so familiar to me. It was indeed good to be there at that moment, I was in my comfort zone and feeling very blessed to be a part of it all -- the liturgy, the parish and the Catholic Church.
But as the reading points out to us, we cannot simply remain safe and secure in our comfort zones, all of us. We come together as church, as a faith community, and we sing and pray and proclaim and listen. We contemplate and we respond. And it's the response part that compels us to stand up at the end of Mass, and upon hearing "The Mass is ended. Go forth in peace to serve God and one another," to respond, "Thanks be to God." And then, it's over. We must go forth into the world and live our lives. We cannot stay where we feel good. We are nourished by our liturgy, our public prayer and our fellowship with each other, but that nourishment is not for our personal benefit alone. It is to give us the strength we need to go out and be an example to the rest of the world, to lead us each week to a slightly better understanding of what God calls us to do and become. We can't keep it to ourselves, and if we just sit safe and secure in the pews and listen, absorbing the lessons and the good feelings, we accomplish nothing and we do not ourselves grow in faith.
And so we look forward to next time, but ideally come away each Sunday with a little something more than we had when we walked in an hour before.

A Side Trip

I was planning a series of blog entries on The Prayer of St. Francis, and I will continue that next week. But today, Sunday, I want to write about the Gospel reading I heard at Mass today.
Here is the reading:
A reading from the Gospel of John (9:1-41)
As Jesus passed by he saw a man blind from birth.
His disciples asked him, "Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?"
Jesus answered, "Neither he nor his parents sinned; it is so that the works of God might be made visible through him.We have to do the works of the one who sent me while it is day. While I am in the world, I am the light of the world."
When he had said this, he spat on the ground and made clay from his saliva, and smeared the clay on his eyes, and said to him, "Go wash in the Pool of Siloam" -- which means Sent.
So he went and washed, and came back able to see.
His neighbors and those who had seen him earlier as a beggar said,"Isn't this the one who used to sit and beg?"
Some said, "It is," but others said, "No, he just looks like him."
He said, "I am." So they said to him, "How were your eyes opened?"
He replied, "The man called Jesus made clay and anointed my eyes and told me 'Go to Siloam and wash.' So I went ther and washed and was able to see."
And they said to him, "Where is he?" He said, "I don't know."
They brought the one who was once blind to the Pharisees. Now Jesus had made clay and opened his eyes on a sabbath. So then the Pharisees also asked him how he was able to see. He said to them, "He put clay on my eyes, and I washed, and now I can see. So some of the Pharisees said, "This man is not from God, because he does not keep the sabbath." But others said, "How can a sinful man do such signs?" And there was a division among them. So they said to the blind man again, "What do you have to say about him, since he opened your eyes?" He said, "He is a prophet."
Now the Jews did not believe that he had been blind and gained his sight until they summoned the parents of the one who had gained his sight. They asked them, "Is this your son, who you say was born blind? How does he now see?" His parents answered and said, "We know that this is our son and that he was born blind. We do not know how he sees now, nor do we know who opened his eyes. Ask him, he is of age; he can speak for himself."
His parents said this because they were afraid of the Jews, for the Jews had already agreed that if anyone acknowledged him as the Christ, he would be expelled from the synagogue. For this reason, his parents said, "He is of age; question him."
So a second time they called the man who had been blind and said to him, "Give God the praise! We know that this man is a sinner." He replied, "If he is a sinner, I do not know. One thing I do know is that I was blind and now I see." So they said to him, "What did he do to you? How did he open your eyes?" He answered them, "I told you already and you did not listen. Why do you want to hear it again? Do you want to become his disciples, too?" They ridiculed ghim and said, "You are that man's disciple; we are disciples of Moses! We know that God spoke to Moses, but we do not know where this one is from." The man answered and said to them, "This is what is so amazing, that you do not know where he is from, yet he opened my eyes. We know that God does not listen to sinners, but if one is devout and does his will, he listens to him. It is unheard of that anyone ever opened the eyes of a person born  blind. If this man were not from God, he would not be able to do anything."
They answered and said to him, "You were born totally in sin, and are you trying to teach us?" Then they threw him out.
When Jesus heard that they had thrown him out, he found him and said, "Do you believe in the Son of Man?" He answered and said, "Who is he, sir, that I may believe in him?" Jesus said to him, "You have seen him, the one speaking with you is he." He said, "I do believe, Lord," and he worshipped him. Then Jesus said, "I came into this world for judgment, so that those who do not see might see, and those who do see might become blind."
Some of the Pharisees who were with him heard this and said to him," Surely we are not also blind, are we?" Jesus said to them, "If you were blind, you would have no sin; but now you are saying 'We see,' so your sin remains."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
That is a really long and rich-in-meaning reading. St. Augustine of Hippo wrote (about this passage) that "If we reflect on the meaning of this miracle, we will see that the blind man is the human race ...  you already know, of course, who the 'One sent' is. Unless he had been sent, none of us would have been freed from sin."

I would never pretend to know more than St. Augustine, but here is the thought that occurred to me upon reading the passage in church before Mass started, and after the Gospel was proclaimed at Mass as well. It was so compelling that I actually took one of the pencils in the pew and a scrap of paper and wrote down my impressions. I never do that. Not until today, at least.

For me, and for Catholics in general, salvation is not a moment frozen in time, an instant of revelation that happens and then is gone. It is a lifelong journey of discovery, learning, setbacks and sharing. This gospel reading absolutely reflects that concept. We have a man (the human race or all of us as individuals) who was born blind (unknowing, in sin and subject to the darkness) who, never having seen a thing before because of his birth defect, encounters Jesus. Jesus asks him to follow a ritual that is not the cure, but is indicative of that person's obedience and willingness to step out in a leap of faith, in a sense. The man goes and does as Jesus told him, and upon completion of the instructions given to him by Jesus (who is God), his eyes are opened.

Think about this for a minute. His eyes are opened and he sees, but he cannot yet know what he is seeing; he is simply bombarded with images, light and dark, colors and shapes, that are all foreign to him. He sees, yes, but he still does not understand. He returns to Jesus and acknowledges the gift. He then finds himself talking to Pharisees, the Jewish authorities of the day. They challenge him, asking him who is responsible for opening his eyes, asking how it was done and pointing out that Jesus must not be a man of God because all of these events take place on the Sabbath (no accident there, either). The man at first only responds with the facts: I was born blind, this man made clay and sent me to the Pool of Siloam to wash, and now I can see.

But as the Pharisees continue to question him more deeply, a greater understanding emerges. Who is Jesus? He is a prophet, the man replies - a dawning of understanding, a first step on a journey of the heart, mind and soul. The Pharisees continue to question him, and he begins to respond with some flippance: I told you already and you did not listen. Why do you want to hear it again? Do you want to become his disciples, too?

Then the man, responding to their declaration that they are disciples of Moses, and they know Moses was a man of God, by saying even more insightfully: "We know that God does not listen to sinners, but if one is devout and does his will, he listens to him. It is unheard of that anyone ever opened the eyes of a person born blind. If this man were not from God, he would not be able to do anything."

Amazing progression of understanding. This is how it is with us, too. Someone who has never heard sounds before may, through modern technology, gain some sense of hearing. But hearing for the first time doesn't necessarily mean understanding. If you took Helen Keller, who was born deaf, mute and blind, and gave her normal hearing and vision all at once, she would have been more lost than she was in her silent, dark world, at least for a time.

The most awesome thing I ever heard, I believe, was when a friend of mine who was born mostly deaf had a cochlear implant and heard things for the first time. She told me one day at lunch that she had been spraying something on her niece's hair and heard a sound. She looked around, but could not figure out what it was. She picked up the spray bottle again, and heard the sound again. She looked at me and said, with all the awe and wonder of a child, "I never knew that a spray bottle made a sound like that!" And she imitated the sound for me.

What an eye-opener that was. She could hear, but it would take her a long time to truly understand everything she heard.

We are no different. Even when we have that conversion moment, that "Aha!" lightbulb-popping moment and we suddenly realize that God is beckoning us, the journey is just beginning.

That is why Catholics do not say they were "born again" in the same sense that many Evangelicals do. We all agree that there is a moment  when the journey begins; for Catholics (and others, too, it's just that I only really know Catholicism in any depth), that first step requires a deep and definitive response, a leap of faith and a setting-off on a lifetime journey sort of response. We are "born again" in the sense that we have had our eyes opened, much as that man did in the Gospel passage. But like that man, who had to respond to Jesus in order to really be changed, we, too, must respond, must become different in a striking and definitive way.

Reflecting on the Prayer of St. Francis

The prayer of St. Francis

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace,
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
where there is sadness, joy;

O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console;
to be understood as to understand;
to be loved as to love.

For it is in giving that we receive;
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace. I want to be a peacemaker, not a troublemaker. Really, I do. But sometimes I catch myself venting frustrations or saying divisive things. Sometimes I say things I do not think will be divisive, but they are. Sometimes I'm not sure that making peace is the right thing to do. Should we not speak out about injustice, advocate for causes we believe in or somehow try to make a difference in a world that mostly is motivated by nonpeaceful tactics? 

On the other hand, isn't peace what we long for the most in this life? Doesn't strife and turmoil wear us down, exhaust us and drain us of resources we need to get through our days? 

I have met people -- not many -- who exude peace in a remarkable way that makes others feel at peace, comfortable and relaxed. How do they do it? That's what I want to do. We are called to act for social justice, to stand up for the innocent, the victimized, the weak and vulnerable. 

But maybe we don't have to do it in a militant way. Maybe I can center myself in a way that will enable me to embody peace.

Where there is hatred, let me sow love. Why is it so easy to hate, so difficult to love? That seems backward. What happens when we act out of hatred? Do we make the world a better place? I don't think so. But boy, it sure feels good sometimes. Well, for a little while. Actually, only while we're doing it. When we've spent our hatred, we feel demeaned, uncomfortable, guilty. So why do we do it? Let me sow love instead. If I give in to the urge to be hateful, I feel bad about myself, but if I resist and instead give the benefit of the doubt, return love where anger or bitterness is offered, I feel good about myself and perhaps in the end, the other person feels better, too.

Where there is injury, pardon. This is the heart of the Christian faith. Turn the other cheek. Father, they know not what they are doing. It's easy to lash out at someone who hurts us, but far more beneficial to forgive, understand and offer goodwill in return. Beneficial, but difficult. It takes strength and resolve. 

The rest of the prayer, I will save for another Lenten  post. 

The rest of the Serenity Prayer

Lord, grant me:
The serenity to accept the things I cannot change
The courage to change things I can

And here's the kicker: And the wisdom to know the difference.
So how do I know the difference? Because knowing the difference is really the key to this whole thing. If I know I cannot change something, I could still choose to not accept that inability, but at least I would know. And I could know that I have the ability to make a difference, but choose not to, for fear or weakness or apathy or whatever reason.
But if I do not know the difference, I will keep trying in vain to change something that I do not have the power to change, and I will make no effort to change something I could change, because I might feel overwhelmed, or lack self-confidence, or believe myself to be powerless.
Knowing the difference makes all the difference.
Here are some things I should learn to accept.
I cannot control the actions, behavior or attitude of others. I can influence them, I can love them, I can help them and I can petition them to change. But at the end of the day, I cannot control their decisions.
I cannot change who people are or how they react to me. I can learn how they react, and change my own behavior accordingly, but I cannot change their fundamental personality.
I cannot make decisions for others. I can choose to support them regardless of the decisions they make, but I cannot make their choices, and I will not have to live with the consequences of their choices, not in the way that they will live with them.
I cannot order God to do things my way. I can ask and plead: I really want that new job. I wish I could afford to buy new carpet and paint for my house. I want my loved ones to be happy and healthy. Please let me catch that next light green so I won't be late to the appointment that I didn't allow myself enough time to get to. I don't want to get sick like the person who sits in the desk next to me. I'm not ready to die, and I can't cope with any more tragedy in my life right now. Those are all things we tell God not to visit on us. But I cannot force God to grant any of my desires. Rather, I should ask God for what I need to cope with whatever comes my way. Show me how to love others. Teach me how to make the most of the talents you gave me.
So these are the things I can control:
I can control my own behavior.
I can choose to use my talents and treasure in ways that will benefit others (and myself).
In prayer, I can ask God to grant me whatever I need to accomplish what I am supposed to achieve.
I can pray for wisdom, for understanding, for patience, for courage, serenity and good will toward others.
Lord, grant me the wisdom to know the difference between what I must accept and what I can change, then grant me the courage to change what I can change and the serenity to accept the things I cannot change.
This prayer makes as much sense backward as it does forward.
Next time, I have another interesting prayer to reflect upon.

Lent and The Serenity Prayer

So far my Lent has been pretty crazy, but not entirely in a bad way. Spent Wednesday figuring out something to do about Lent to make it productive and special, after coming home from church with obligatory ashes on forehead. Then Thursday, I worked and practiced handbells. Friday was a 13-hour workday. Saturday was all about my violin solo with the handbell festival in Ocean City. Today, Sunday, I attended 8 a.m. Mass and we left Salisbury at 10 a.m  to head for Newark and the Rite of Election and Call to Continuing Conversion. Got home in time to eat (20-minute window) and then back out to SSO rehearsal.
However, I am going to spend time for the next 6 weeks or so examining The Serenity Prayer. I will begin tonight.
Disclaimer: I am writing my own thoughts about the words and implications of The Serenity Prayer. I am not an authority or theologian, just an ordinary person.

Lord, grant me ...

The prayer begins with these three words. Simple enough beginning, right? Maybe not.
It's a petition to God, first and foremost. I am asking God for help with some issues I am having in this life. We do tend to turn to God when we are in trouble. Like the hymn we sang today in Newark:

Be with me Lord, when I am in trouble. Be with me Lord, I pray. 

So it's an admission that I need something, I can't do this for myself. It's not something I can provide for myself, not something I can earn or purchase. I am needy and only God can give me what I need.
It's also a clear admission that God plays an important role. It's interesting that 12-step programs have adopted this prayer as their own, considering that they are supposed to be secular, non-religious organizations.
But the rest of the prayer, that's where we learn that this prayer is not like much of what we tend to do in prayer (at least, I do), which is to tell God what we want, what's important and to give it to us now. You know, like "Dear God, please help me pass this test today, so I can get an A in class." Or "Dear Lord, I really want this job, and heave knows we need the money. So please, Lord, make sure I'm the one who gets hired." Or  "My son's team needs to win today, so grant them this victory." Or whatever. Our agenda, our wants, gimme gimme.
No, The Serenity Prayer suggests that there are some things we cannot control, and we just need to adapt. And there are other things that we can control, but would rather not make the effort or take the risk.

"Lord, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change." 

I can't control how other drivers on the highway are acting. All I can do is control my own thoughts, words and actions. I can think about what a jerk the guy who just cut me off in traffic is, or I can just take a deep breath and forget it. Or I could even say a quick prayer for him: Lord, please don't let anything this guy does in his car today harm anyone, himself or others.
I can't control what my family does, nor can I control how the supermarket checker speaks to me. I can't make everyone be nice, or polite or considerate.But I can be all of those things myself, if I so choose, and if I ask God to help me behave well.

"The courage to change the things I can."

Yeah, we all want to change the world, don't we? But sometimes we need to change something about ourselves, and we don't always want to. We like our bad habits, our crutches and yes, our anger and bitterness. Sometimes we need to speak out publicly about injustice or wrong thinking. We don't necessarily need to be "preachy" about it, but some things need to be said or done. We can't stop people from littering the roadside, but we can go out and clean it up, bag up the trash and take it to the dump or somewhere to be disposed of. We maybe shouldn't hand out cash freely to beggars, but we can donate to community organizations that work with them to help them get back on their feet.

And the kicker: "And the wisdom to know the difference." 

I'll save that for another day.
It's late and I must get some rest.

The 10 Commandments

I have always wondered why the big fuss over displaying the 10 Commandments in public places. I understand and agree that our government should be secular, not religious, because we are a nation of religious freedom, but if you look at the commandments and what they say, well, who could possibly argue that they are controversial or could inflict anything negative, harmful or bad on anyone looking at them -- especially 5-10, which are totally commonsense behavior guidelines:
Honor your father and mother; do not kill; don't commit adultery; don't steal; don't lie; don't covet your neighbor's spouse, belongings or anything else.

How much crime, pain, misery, anger, upset and confusion could be avoided in this world if everyone obeyed these guidelines?

As for the first four, well, they apply to both Christians and Jews, and being true and faithful to whatever you believe in is probably good advice, in a general sense.

In any event, it seems reasonable to assume that if most people obeyed most of the commandments most of the time, we'd have a lot less crime, hatred, envy, dishonesty and other bad influences in our daily lives.

A new vision of what heaven might be

A couple of my friends on Facebook (you know who you are) take cruises. They are experienced at this. They just got home from a tropical cruise, matter of fact, and they posted some pictures of their little vacation.

I was browsing the photos last night and came across one that was apparently taken from an upper deck looking straight down to some kind of gathering spot below. The description mentioned string quartets and piano players who apparently get hired to frequent the spot for the enjoyment of guests (or whatever they call people who go on cruises).

If you know me at all, you know where I'm headed.

I've never been on a cruise. But imagine going on cruises that you cannot afford, for free, fed and sheltered for free, and all because you agree to to do something you love doing for a few hours a day.

And as one of the recently returned cruise patrons pointed out, get paid for it, too?

Well, I'm not quitting my day job yet, but if I somehow got offered the chance to play with a string quartet on a cruise ship, get paid for it, and partake of the cruises at no cost, well, I"d try it at least once.

Well, I can dream, right?

Let's try this again

I have not posted here since April. I was posting on another collaborative blog, but haven't done that lately either, so I'll try this one again. I'm thinking this should just be about whatever I'm interested in at the moment. Which usually will be either politics, religion or music, most of the time.

Politics? Not sure why I'm so fascinated with politics. Actually, I get disgusted with politics. I lose patience with lawmakers who either lose sight of why they got involved in public service, or who forget what public service means, or who cave to the temptation to serve special interests instead of the public good. I lose patience with lawmakers who seek to satisfy those who fund their campaigns or give them favors instead of doing what's best for constituents, and for the greater good of the country. Or of humanity.

Still, it's important to care. Even at the grass roots level. Like in Salisbury, "the Bury" as it's known to some. Used to be a small town, close-knit community. I remember from my childhood, the street I grew up on, I could walk past each house and tell you who lived there, what they were like and probably some stories about them. Except that I'd be afraid to walk down that street, even in broad daylight. I used to know every crack in the sidewalk. And that is, in a nutshell, what is wrong in the Bury right now.

I have a theory.

We have rising crime problems, gangs are growing, drugs, gun violence. But it's a sickness that begins at the heart of the community, when you hear people always putting it down, seeing and talking about the negatives. Dysfunctional city government, nasty comments about community leaders, poking fun at institutions and always shooting down (verbally, I mean) anyone who tries to make things better.

My theory is that if someone could get people talking hopefully, positively, with some pride in the community again, a lot of those crime problems would fade away. People who are proud of their community don't look the other way when something is amiss; they speak up or act to fix it.

We used to be called "The Land of Pleasant Living." Then, a generation later, in the 70s, you would see bumper stickers everywhere that read "There's no life west of the Chesapeake Bay." Salisbury was the "Crossroads of Delmarva," a commercial hub for the whole Lower Shore. We a commercial port, a potentially beautiful river running through the city, an agricultural heritage and a history as a vibrant town.

We can bring it back, revive it. But it won't happen because a leader says its so. It will happen when people start feeling proud of their community, when they take time to get to know their neighbors, keep their yards, property and streets clean and maintained. When they patronize local businesses again because those businesses are unique and good quality, offering something they want at a price they can afford. When, instead of sitting back and saying everything is someone else's job, or pointing out how incompetent everyone else is, they see a need and take action to fulfill that need, because it's the right thing to do. And that, I believe, is key to regaining our sense of identity.

Can it be done? Time will tell.