A life in Christ is non-violence activism

I attended an interesting "Peace and Justice" talk last night given by the well-known peace activist Jesuit Priest Father John Dear.

Father John is an engaging and thought-provoking priest. His passion for non-violent action to fight war, poverty and hunger is compelling and sincere.

Yet, as decent and faith-based as his argument is -- it is also fatally flawed. For some reason that I do not understand, Father John chooses not make Jesus the center of his argument. Though he speaks of Jesus often, when it comes times to making the pitch -- Father John instead pitches action steeped in human behavior, not action based in a Christ-like life. Maybe that's because many of his followers are well-meaning, ardent secularists to whom a faith-based argument may have limited effectiveness or be lost altogether.

Yet, without the embrace of Christ and His message of humility, compassion, and love, "non-violent" action is doomed to erosion, corruption and/or perversion.

In Christ, we find the truest form of goodness. And it is only through Him that we find the best defense against the all-too-human frailties of selfishness, ego and greed -- the origins of war and poverty.

No matter how big the victory of non-violent activism, if it based in human behavior, and not in Christ, then the victory will invariably fall victim to human frailties. A short glance back in human history affirms this.

And maybe this is the real point -- when we sincerely live a life in Christ, then the evils of humanity fall away. The effect is self-perpetuating (like pebbles in a pond.) It is a powerful starting point, it is the only path to lasting peace, and it is only available through the Grace of God.

Nonetheless, many thanks to Father John Dear for his work, passion and sincerity.

Strange Brew

This journey of ours, the one here on earth, does not always make sense to me.

As is characteristic of women of my generation (Gen X), I've firmly believed that I am the maker of my own destiny. And, for most part, this belief has delivered as promised.

Thus, one of the hardest things to adapt to, as a returning Catholic, is that it's not entirely up to me. God's got a plan. My biggest role is to pay attention with a faithful heart.

Some people might say this is finding your "calling."

Or rather, our calling finds us.

Tonight, it feels like a calling paid visit to me. Nothing extravagant happened, just a impromptu meeting on my front porch with a very spiritual Catholic woman who will join me soon in fellowship at the Cathedral Women's group. Yet, our meeting shook deeply. Like this furthered my sense of purpose in becoming an actively giving Catholic, like this is the direction God has chosen for me, like this is the highest and best use of my God-given skills.

Anyways, as I said, this doesn't all make sense to me. This path seems to be choosing me more than the other way around, which is not what I am used to.

And all I can do is pray, listen and act.

Toxicity needs a rest; Charity needs a renaissance

It's disheartening to watch anything involving Pres. Obama these days.

Instead of seeing civil expressions of support or discontent about his policies, we see instead a rabid, inflexible hatred on one side...and a meek, disorganized response on the other. (Former Pres. Bush endured a similar political environment, though his responses might not be characterized as meek.)

In today's political climate, lots of folks are getting riled up, but nothing is getting done. And there's a lot to do...and a lot we need to do right now. A short list could easily include dealing with: climate change,the deficit, energy independence, health care, clean air, clean water, social security, a poorly recovering economy, and two wars that are an awfully long way from home.

I was encouraged then, during this toxic American political/social/economic season, to read Pope Benedict XVI's Caritas in Veritate (Charity in Truth.) The Pope unapologetically urges us to reach back to our Christian roots and live in charity. To face unpleasant truths and address them with generosity, justice and love. To work not for ourselves so much as for the common good.

After forty-some-odd years of abject "individualism," these are not easy words for your average American to swallow. Charity as a way of life? Sharing personal wealth (counted in either time, money or emotion) with those who've not earned it.? Taking less than my fair share of the American pie? Blasphemy! Communism!

Yet, what are the options? To continue to march angrily (or passively) past the problems of the present is akin to riding your children's best horse straight to Hades. I bet that's one thing everyone agrees upon: We really don't want to go there.

Christ shared the answer with us long ago. Pope Benedict XVI eloquently reminds us again in Caritas in Veritate. Experience teaches us that charity is a better way to live our lives, and thus our politics. And, of course, charity begins at home, and in one's heart.

May peace and charity finds thier way to all of us.

The Meek Shall Inherit the Earth

I was tempted to use a pseudonym but either you know her or you don't.

And if you know her, a pseudonym wouldn't matter. You'd recognize her anywhere.

Her name is Dawn. For reasons not known to me, Dawn is in a wheel chair. A visit to the Cathedral wouldn't be complete without seeing Dawn and her service dog Gizmo whizzing around, socializing, helping people.

Until today, I pitied Dawn. Her plight is not enviable. She's permanently wheel chair bound. No family nearby. No college. No prospects for a job in today's economic climate. She lives on a dime.

But Dawn does not pity herself.

After Mass, I had a chance to get to know her for the first time. Her struggles are real yet Dawn has chosen to embrace her opportunities rather than wallow in helplessness. She's a certified Sunday School teacher. She's an active member of the women's society...and get this: she drives her wheelchair (Gizmo in tow) to and from the Cathedral -- year round, rain or snow, day or night -- several times a week. This is no small feat. Dawn lives more than two miles away, in the downtown area, and must cross several wide busy streets along her journey. And where we live, it's gets pretty darn cold and snowy in the winter.

In fact, Dawn has a "take no prisoners" approach to wheelchair travel. She's not self-conscious about her disability. She's not afraid to own the sidewalk she traverses. I shudder to think of the verbal lashings she gives out to those who drive inconsiderately. I get the sense that Dawn's travel autonomy is a point of personal pride for her -- one of the few things she can lay full claim to.

Even so, I will start praying today for her safe travels and also pray that she has decades of travel ahead.

Dawn was simply not dealt the best in life, yet she makes the best of it in a truly Christian manner. I hope, pray when the time comes when Dawn will need more help (and it will come) that I and my fellow parishioners will be Christian enough to help her as she has helped herself and helped others.

Amen.

BTW -- Gizmo is a wonderful and devoted dog full of character, not so unlike Dawn.

Funny thing happened on the way to revenge...

Okay,

I was never actually interested in revenge.

But an abject lack of forgiveness plagued me. You see, there were a couple people who really betrayed me in the past. With a renewed sense of faith, it was easy to recognize that forgiveness was "the way" to deal with the situation....but the reality was that I just didn't feel like forgiving. Something's hardwired into my brain (and maybe most people's brains) that makes forgiving very hard to do.

Nonetheless, I gave it my best effort. I used Christ as my yardstick. And I used time as my walking stick. For all outward appearances, I had truly moved on from events of the past.

Fastforward a couple of years: I've come to believe forgiveness is as much a journey as it is an act. And on the journey, amazing things can happen.

For instance, my spirit of forgiveness (however hackneyed) has been infectious. What happened to the two folks above? Well, things are working out. The three of us are not worse for our conflicted time; instead, we are better. A cycle of trust, warmth and enthusiasm has developed amongst us. And, my guess, is that more than the three of us have been impacted... that this warmth and trust has gone on to infect those around us as well, spreading outward like a pebble in a pond...

The reason: forgiveness.

The source: Jesus Christ.

The prognosis: very good.

Amen.

The Gospel according to Peter, Paul and Mary

I used to love this song as a kid! See how things come full circle?!

"If I Had a Hammer"
Newport Folk Festival,
Newport, Rhode Island, 1963

More than Twelve Steps

A good friend recently compared my return to Faith to his recovery from drug addiction -- full of hope and relief ....but ultimately transient. After eight years of recovery, he's become attached to worldly things (like house, wife, dog) and suffers because of his attachment. Whereas, in his first year of recovery, he gave it all up to go to God to get well. He was at peace back then because he had nothing left lose. (click here to listen to Janis Joplin sing about nothing left to lose.)

And, he's adamant that his experience is not unique but one shared by most recovering addicts.

I'm only eight months into my return to Faith so still in the "honeymoon" phase, so to speak. Accordingly, in a few years I too ought to be disillusioned and back to the daily grind of struggle and disappointment.

However -- I'm not convinced.

Nor do I believe are the millions of others who have returned to (or found) God after years away. Maybe the delta is the intent. Converts seek God for truth in its purest form and to live honestly by Him while on this earth. They find this Truth in the Bible, the Word of God. By its very nature, the journey is unselfish. Jesus makes no bones about it: charity is the mainstay of Christianity....and that charity may take the form of much suffering over a lifetime.

But addicts come to God as a release for personal suffering. Truth and God are present in the 12-steps to recovery, but the focus is on the self. Moreover, the 12-steps allow for a broad interpretation of God -- defined by whatever makes the individual comfortable. Neither Jesus nor the Bible are referenced.

And, that makes all the difference.

We humans go reliably astray when trying to define God for ourselves. Our innate selfishness serves to skew the pursuit even further (i.e. the current and failed trend to seek "personal happiness" as a primary life goal.) Yet, through the Bible, we learn of a richer, enduring goal. One that serves God and, accordingly, the greater good. Personal suffering may be present. Material wealth and status may be forfeited. But the intrinsic sense of "rightness" of doing good works on God's as hands and feet is unmatched by any man-made reward or ideal.

At least, that's the best way I can describe it right now. I'll let you know in a year if I feel the same.

Click here to go the 12 Steps.

The Parish Yearbook

We've always been a funny family (and I don't mean "funny, ha ha").

In the nearly two decades we've been together, we've never had a family portrait taken.

Either we were too busy, too poor, too independent from with one another, or too enamored with our "unconventional" lifestyle to go and get one taken. In fact, there's no more than a handful of photos of the three of us together in existence. Period.

Enter the Parish Yearbook. This year is the Madeleine Cathedral's Centennial and, as part of the festivities, a parish yearbook is being published. With a lot less convincing than expected, my husband and son agreed to be included.

This morning, the three of us showed up at the Cathedral basement to have our first-ever family portraits taken. I'm not sure what I was expecting but we actually had fun. My oft grumpy son beamed. My husband took tender charge of the situation. And, the photos turned out surprisingly good. Our first family photos (framed and all) will arrive in the mail in three weeks. The parish yearbook will follow shortly thereafter. I can't wait. They are surely divinely inspired and I will cherish them always.

Ripples

It's been nine months since I returned to the Catholic Church. At that time, my immediate family had been distanced from faith for many years. So committed was I to rational secular belief that I had never taken my 21-year-old son to any kind of religious service.

Thus, my first Sundays at mass were spent alone. A couple of months later (and after much prodding) my son joined me at mass. A few months after that, the light of faith entered his world and he is now on his journey towards Christ.

Today, the first time ever, my husband joined my son and I at mass. A hard, logical man by nature, he was nonetheless moved by the sermon and scripture.

Quite unexpectedly, another first occurred: during our family dinner following mass, which included the company of my husband's brother, we shared a rich and sincere discussion of faith and purpose. It was the longest dinner we've ever had -- over 3 hours -- and the only one devoted to Christ and faith. In fact, the three men in my life are still discussing the virtues of works and service as I type.

The gratitude I feel to God for bringing us together is immense. A little part of me fears that if I enjoy this moment too much, it will be taken from me. Yet, I am hopeful for all of us that today's faith-filled evening is a marker of many more to come.

Tonights prayers will be filled with thanks.

When the sun shines upon you....

Originally published March 15, 2009

I had a bad year.

Actually, I had two bad years in a row, but it was this last one which shook my faith in humanity.

You see, before this year, I was a post-Catholic secular idealist — not the sappy Utopic-Save-The-Whales kind, but instead the type who prided herself on a cautiously optimistic, proof-based worldview. While acknowledging the troubles of our species, I nonetheless held steadfast in my belief that, if given the chance, altruism would trump self-centeredness; that reason would prevail over irrational action….that the “greater good” was an ideal held by almost everybody….

But like I said, I had a bad year and I don’t believe these things anymore….at least, not in the same way.

My story is a common one and begins in my darkest hour: facing the painful truths of human shortcomings (including my own), finding God and the Catholic Church, being awestruck by His Grace, and seeing the world no longer through a lens of “proofs” but instead with the heart of the faithful. The light began to shine upon my world.

But alas....my newly renewed faith was immediately tested by a common vice: human frailty....

The trials in my life continued unabated. Despite efforts to the contrary (prayer, communion, a small community of fellow believers, the support of an awesome priest), I buckled and my mood descended into bitterness and cynicism. I smiled less, trusted few, and indulged in self-pity and lack of forgiveness. (What a rotten start for a newly returned Catholic!)

Even after I departed the trial-ridden situation, the deep bitterness persisted. The effect was toxic. My world turned into "poor me" fest. Few wanted to be near me. I even started a blog detailing the betrayed ideals of my former self.....ignoring the damage done by spreading discontent.

Yet, yet….God stayed with me, and I with Him (though meekly, I must admit). Finally, after much prayer and reflection, a new optimism quietly emerged. Smiles returned and bitterness melted. Hope and duty re-entered my horizon.

Looking back, it was an actually an enlightened year. While my faith in the human race unraveled, the loss opened my mind and heart to a true and rich life — one anchored by faith and trust in our Lord. And it is only through Him, that we can become our best selves and begin to embrace a greater, lasting good.

Thanks be to God.