The Others

We went to see The Others at Cine Capri. It's a movie created in six months by Empowered Theater + Arts. This non-profit organization provides opportunities for adults with handicaps and disabilities to experience and learn acting, music, comedy and visual arts. In the process they work and form community, relationships and new friendships in a world that often treats them as "outsiders".  If you'd like to see the movie it's going to be serialized on YouTube around June 14th. I recommend it heartily!

    The story of The Others is rich and funny. A crew of journalists is invited to make a documentary in Fairy Tale Land. Instead of interviewing stars (the Mains), they choose to interview the supporting characters (the Others) who live in the shadows of fantasy and fame. It's got some hilarious moments (check out the Pub scene...) I've seen several performances by this group, and all of them turned out wonderfully. But The Others is the biggest and most ambitious. It says to me that as Empowered gains experience, they will be an interesting force for education and change.

    Which is sort of the heart of the story. It isn't so much that people suffer prejudices. More significantly, people don't hear, understand or share the living stories of others. Few of us will ever be Mains, and if we get the chance we need to recognize both our impact on the world and our responsibility. Bishop Dolan of the Diocese of Phoenix teaches that the secret to building unity is story-telling. That's sort of what I do here in my blog. How do you tell your story...? 

    Every time I participate in an Empowered production I understand that people with disabilities are just like me. I even hate using that word because it creates categories, and you all know what happens when we put Others in boxes. It's hard in our world to avoid it. But we really need to train ourselves to see that other people are people FIRST, regardless of what makes them different. In fact, being different isn't even a bad thing; we're just different. 

    So, if you ever feel "too different" to join in, just tell your story, just tell a little bit of it. Take small bites. Share it with someone and suddenly, you're not alone!

How To Grow A Peaceful Heart

We were having “one of those days” and I noticed I wasn't being exactly nice to the people around me. So I said “I need to get a peaceful heart. What should I do...?”

I googled “How to get a peaceful heart...” and it sent me to Phillippians 4. And the Bible says...

Rejoice in the Lord always. I shall say it again: rejoice! Your kindness should be known to all. The Lord is near. Have no anxiety at all, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, make your requests known to God. Then the peace of God that surpasses all understanding will guard your hearts and mind in Christ Jesus.

Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is gracious, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.

Phillippians, 4: 4-8

Let's break it down:

#1 – REJOICE! Think about it. We don't have to wait to be happy. Other people don't need to make us happy or do anything. Joy is a decision! Maybe we need a lot of practice, but imagine what can happen when we get really good at it! Choose to be happy. It leads to peace.

#2 – BE A KIND PERSON! Do it in public, not to be a show-off, but be kind so deliberately and so constantly that you can't hide it. Let your kindness spill out and overflow and fill up your life everywhere you go so that even if you wanted to, you couldn't hide it from the world. Let everybody see your kindness and don't even worry about what they think.

#3 – REMEMBER HOW CLOSE GOD IS TO YOU. As Jesus says, “The Kingdom of God is close at hand. Yes, in your very hearts!” Well, where the kingdom is, there is the King, right? And when we pray “Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done...” Where will it begin if not right here in our own hearts...?

#4 – HAVE NO ANXIETY (worries) at all. We are not slaves to fear or dread, so why entertain their minions? Kick them out. Say, “Nope! No way! You are not allowed...!” You can use the room in your mind and heart to think about better things, like solutions!

#5 – In everything, by prayer, petition and thanksgiving, TELL GOD WHAT YOU WANT. Jesus says, “The reason you don't get what you want is because you don't ask...” Telling God what we want affirms our relationship, grows our confidence, and guides our hearts to righteousness.

Do these things and the peace of God will fill and guard our hearts. So that when we are having “one of those days” instead of being the cause, we might be the solution!

Oh! And here's one more tip: GUARD YOUR THOUGHTS. (Use prayer; it really helps.) When we worry and grow anxious, when we dwell on hurts and failures, how can we live and move in peace? But when we replace our worries with positive thinking—as old-fashioned as it sounds—there is no room for worry, or for acting badly. Jesus says “Fear is useless! What is needed is trust!” We can consciously choose and follow the Gospel way of living.

Who We Are and Where We Belong

 

What does the Ascension mean to me?

“On the third day he rose from the dead. He ascended into Heaven, where he is seated at the right hand of God, the Father Almighty. He shall come again to judge the living and the dead.” (Apostle's Creed)

I was taught as a child to believe the things we say when we pray the Creed. Having a creed has been a comfort to me all through the years. When things were difficult or confusing, it was nice to have something solid. I could say “This I believe!” Then I could get back to work.

It says in the Gospel for the Feast of the Ascension that our work continuues the mission of Jesus. We tell the world about “repentence for the forgiveness of sins”. When we are sorry for our sins, and make determination to change (with God's help), then God forgives our sins and really does help us. And in that back-and-forth we are transformed and made into new creatures, people destined to live with Him fully in his kingdom.

We believe that like Jesus, our life will not end with the death of our body. The Creed goes on to say, “I believe in the resurrection of the body, and life everlasting.” The two come together in Jesus—our life now, filled with challenges, learning, community and opportunities to share the Good News—our our life to come after we are finished here. We already enjoy and experience that life-to-come here in this “valley of tears” by the gifts and fruits of faith, given to us through the holy Spirit. There's a lot to this life we receive in Baptism. Jesus himself accepted Baptism so that the holy Spirit could come and bring the fullness of life. Not because Jesus, the Son of God, was lacking anything when he walked among us, but because it is our work to give example that others can follow. Jesus was baptized. We are baptized. Baptism makes us one body, a fitting vessel for the Bread of Life, broken and shared with all the world.

If this Bread has truly been given, then our work is to “take hold of it, and eat, and never die!” It is food for this life, AND for the life that is coming. Like the prophet, we eat so that we may have strength for our journey. When we reach the end, we will enter fully into the life of Heaven.

No wonder the apostles left the place of the Ascension and went back rejoicing. For us that place is first the church and the Eucharist we bless, break and share. When we leave after Mass is ended, we rejoice because we know who we are, and we know where we belong.

Pasta and Family

There are as many ways to make spaghetti sauce as there are families. Some recipes are simple. Some are complex. Some don't even use tomatoes! (Imagine that!) It doesn't matter how you make your spaghetti sauce as long as you know what you like. And for the most part, we "learn what we like" from our ancestors.

    Pasta-and-sauce is a family meal. Most learn to make it with what's on hand, what's plentiful, or what needs to be used up soon. It can be made with meat, seafood, poultry, vegetables, eggs, even tofu! As long is your recipe tastes good over slippery, slurpy pasta (or eggplant, or fried chicken, or sausage sammies) you'll be the kitchen hero. 

    I just made pasta sauce (with sausage) for dinner and because I forgot to buy celery, I used some aging cabbage. I've never used cabbage in pasta sauce before, but I keep it in the fridge because we don't often use onions in our cooking and cabbage adds a good background flavor. Tasting the results I have to call it a success, though I think my family will figure it out. "Cabbage has a cabbage smell." Now (even though I've been sneaking tastes) I'll have to wait for supper to enjoy it with the rest. 

    Does faith have a flavor? Or is it a whole dish made of many ingredients? Can we mix and blend to see what happens? Is the recipe rigorous and invariable or open for experimenting...? I think, when we start adding people, we're into pasta-sauce country. You use what you have, and play with the blend.

    In our Catholic Church if you go from parish to parish you'll find a lot of variety--many expressions of faith--even in close neighborhoods. Taken together, we do have a recipe which is followed religiously and makes our community distinctive. We are not, after all, making barbecue. We share a common recipe called "The Creed" which lists all the basic ingredients. Without one or another, it just doesn't taste like home. 

    But we also add a lot of personalities, a lot of preferences, a lot of local expressions, cultural language and symbolism--even varieties of music. Most parishes attract people of similar tastes and backgrounds, but what we do is what has been passed down from Christ. For most of us, that's what tastes so good. That's why we come home for dinner. 

    Think about what you like most when you share The Mass. Is it the music? The decorations? Do you love (or avoid) incense? Does it matter what language your community uses when it prays together? Do you visit different parishes on different Sundays, relishing a buffet of flavors?

    Do you prefer the Mass to be reliable and unchanging? Do you crave variety and surprises? Is it even allowed to have preferences...?

    

    Franciscan prayer begins with the following premise: "Every person has the right to his or her own spiritual path." Which means that even in a close-knit community, there is room for variety, multiplicity, and experience. To try to create a one-size-fits-all community actually harms the life of the Spirit in that community. Maybe this is why I found a home among Franciscans. Certainly it's one of the things that challenges me, when I don't agree with someone about how, when or why we do things. It's been good for me, though, to taste other people's favorite recipes, or even their experiments. I know what I like best, but pasta is pasta, cabbage has a cabbage smell, and faith is meant to be shared.

    Dove saremmo senza la famiglia?

The Pot Hole

After surgery, there is a time of recovery that... well, it can't be skipped. Some moments you feel pretty good and say things like "Oh, I'll just mow the lawn..." or "I'll go shopping real quick." And you're off to the races... if you get that far. 

    No. Sorry. You are a patient, and it requires patience. Your body has been wounded (even if they use really good anesthetics.) It knows what you did. So whenever I have a "procedure" on my calendar, I always take a moment to apologize in advance. I talk it over with my body, I discuss what needs to happen, and I lay in a supply of soup and crackers (potato chips), whatever gets me through. And then I climb aboard for the journey.

    And I hate it. I hate the loss of control, the surrender of freedoms, the time spent laying down because I just can't do anything else until I start feeling better. I take it out on the people around me until they signal that they've hand enough of that nonsense. I spend some time in gloom, feeling sorry for myself. I watch tv to pass the hours, take my pills when it's time, go to follow-up appointments, etc. I become "Mister Bland" and my life seems to lose whatever identity it might have possessed. It's a pot-hole. I fall in. 

    So far, I've always recovered, regained, replaced whatever I surrendered and basically returned to normal. But each time I gain a little perspective, mostly about the fragility of life. A sudden turn, getting out of a chair the wrong way, a spot on an xray, a bip on a cardiogram. I'm not perfect. I'm not Superman. Time is my kryptonite. Everything is pushing toward the edge...

    Nobody likes to talk about this stuff, and as a topic for a blog, it's risky. But for a journal, it's important because you have to say, Yes, I was there. That was the year they found the cancer. That was the summer I couldn't travel, or eat bacon, or climb mountains. 

    And I found I was still there, weaker, drabber, less fun, less interesting, less in control. "The time is coming when they will tie your hands and lead you places you do not want to go." How will you handle it? Will you rise to the best quality of your personhood? Will you laugh with the staff at the hospital, the surgeons in their masks and gowns, the fine nurses who can make the beds just zoom along the millrace hallways, you the log, primed for cutting? Will they stitch you up into a fine cabinet, or a pine box...? Even this stuff has its interesting side. 

    I'm just glad that I don't have to go through this alone. When I'm over it, and all recovered, I'll be watching among my friends who live alone and maybe just ask them if they ever need someone to ride along with theme, would they feel comfortable asking me...?

I Dreamed Of A Monk...

 I wanted to write this down before I forget. During the night I dreamed of a monk, like a Budhist monk, in carmine-colored robes. His head was shaved and his face bright and happy. He reached over and touched my arm.

“Hey!” I said. “I felt that!” He looked at me with a beautiful smile.

“Yes...?” he answered.

This was the whole dream, but it was very intense. The colors of the sky, the clouds behind him; everything looked physical, like I could reach out and touch them. I woke up quickly, wondering what sort of dream it was.

I thought about our connections to heaven, to “the communion of saints.” While our Church says “Baptism is the way Christ taught us to be saved...” it also says in another place, “God cannot be limited to one way of saving.”

By “saving” we mean bringing us all into the fullness of relationship, something that gives the most lovely joy and peace. Who's to say who, where or when people are saved? God can save anyone, anytime, even people we don't expect.

But to me this dream was also a message. How long must we live—how many years of wandering and learning—before we know enough to sense heaven's presence? Instead of being “across the boundary line of death” is it possible that heaven can be here and now? Do we simply need to fall awake to see it? And if so, what's our next step in living...?

Wonder is also a gift.

An Epic Life

 I was watching a video clip of Anna Lapwood performing at Sir Albert Hall. She wrote an extra piece for their presentation of music from The Lion King, and when she played it I was transported back to the morning we walked into the Oncology center at University of Arizona. It was to be the first day of Marie's bone-marrow transplant journey, and they were playing Lion King on the speakers in the waiting area. I remember clearly how the music lifted me up to a special plane I rarely experience. Hearing the music again today--so many years later--I began to cry. There was no defending against the swell of emotions, repressed, ignored, bargained-against for so many years in order to be present, to companion her. Everything that's happened since that day has happened in the context and reality of cancer. Marie lived a tremendous journey, most of it impossible to share. But I only realized today, in the flow of the music, that the moment we walked into the hospital, our lives became epic...

    I think a lot about the meanings of life (there are many) and how we must learn to flow from event to event much like a canoe in a violent river. It's not always about accomplishing things; most times it's about surviving. Marie survived until her natural end. When she left, I continued maintaining my composure, downplaying her death and its impact on me, and ignoring the thousands ways I dip and dodge. After all, who wants to wind up piled on the rocks? The question keeps coming back: did my life have meaning...?

    We tend to value ourselves with prejudice and even ignorance. We allow others to say what's important: money, power over others, and "being right". Time on The River has taught me that the real values are mercy, self-understanding and knowledge of God, who alone sets our value. In many ways the world has been wrong about these things, and it will continue to be wrong. So each of us needs to look at ourselves with some intensity, and to stand against the appraisals of the world. The only opinion about our value that matters is our own opinion. 

    Are we teaching children to find their true value...?

Live Life With Christ

 Several years ago I took a vacation trip to Oklahoma to visit an old school friend. His name is Brother Damian and he lives in a Benedictine abbey. He ran out to the parking lot to welcome us, then took us indoors.

The heavy doors of the abbey closed behind us with the  echoing sound of a bank vault. Inside everything was polished and scrubbed, shadowed and silent, gilded with rainbow hues that fell through stained-glass windows and bearing the faint scent of incense. For a week we lived there with the brothers and fathers--a very special world indeed, nearly howling with the breath of the holy Spirit. Needless to say, I felt out of my element. 

Coming back home to Phoenix after a week inside the abbey was like falling into a cacophony of sound, movement, action and strain. We live in a noisy, busy world where it can be very hard to hear or even find God. I can't say abbey life is easier, because the brothers, like old sailors, learn over the years how to walk, eat, pray and live in the shifting and changing wind of grace. I've seen this in other places and other ways. Elijah experienced it (1Kings, 19) Just because on the outside people (and places) look quiet, serene and well-grounded doesn't mean God isn't working with great fierceness for the salvation of souls. If you want an image of a monk (brother, sister, priest, servant-of-the-Lord) think of sailors who roll with the pitching deck in the heart of the sea's great storms, or fire-keepers tending the furnaces of the universe...

It took a long time for me to understand what was going on. The difference between my friend's life and my own was stark. In the world his life is very humble and simple, but in the Kingdom he is a dedicated, brilliant worker, skilled in the boundary-world of faith. In my secular world I often feel pummeled and torn by fierce external storms, but inside I seem to always be searching for the slightest sound and sign of God.

Neither of us is wrong. We are each living the life God chose for us, both seeking most heartfully to do His will. And in each of our journeys God is present, completely and entirely. We struggle to see and hear Him, but he never fails. He is never absent. This is the Great Sign of faith, fulfilling the promise of Christ: "Lo! I will be with you always, even to the end of the age!" 

Don't judge between vocations or seek outside yourself what is yours to do. Live the life God offers you, but live it in Christ, who makes all things one in himself. Then we can enter into the life to come rejoicing at the great reunion of all who seek Him. 

The Word

 The work of blogging is simple enough. Just sit down and write something. Reading the blogs later proves that more thought and less haste is a pretty good way to live. 

    While some blogs are specific, to find and share information about a skill, commodity or adventure, my own work is more self-serving. I've been fascinated by the ways my mind and heart connect with the world--it's an "inside-outside" story.

    Since the day I learned to write my name, I've been a writer. Words have always been powerful to me, rich with endless avenues and pathways to explore. My early exploits in poetry investigated the way words connect, like threads in a web. Later stories investigated ways words are woven into cloth, whole, rough or broad. It makes no difference to a "word wielder". 

    But behind all these less-than-meaningful explorations, there was another power, a broad and diffuse force, like the breeze that comes before a summer storm. It touches, and you sense what is to come. Writing has always had that, for me, and I'm only coming to understand now that the "force" I sense behind the words is their very Source. As it says in the Gospel, "In the beginning, was the Word..."

    I am not a professional writer. I have never earned a dime for my words. And so I am a less-disciplined writer. I slop things down in untidy journals of every shape and size. I type endlessly at all hours of the day and night. I dream up new stories (and fuss over old ones), relegating them to drawers, files, boxes, bins and satchels until the mountain elves come and carry them off. Emily Dickenson wrote about how she "hit a world at every drop." I line up worlds and drive straight into them. Someday I'll probably go so far as turning off spell-checker. Why should words be perfect? Life is full of dents, scratches and rough-ends...

    But like a Forty-Niner chipping through granite to follow a vein of gold, I keep at it whenever I have time, looking for one or two perfect words, unhewn gems of absolute quality. "God said 'Let there be light!' And in that single, primordial act, all time and all of history began." (Catechism of the Catholic Church)

    There's power in words. 

We Are The Church

Today our Church leaders elected Pope Leo the XIV. We heard about it on the way home from the doctor office so we rushed inside and turned on the news. Then we waited. JoAnne says he was getting dressed. I said he was writing his speech.Either way, when he stepped out on the balcony and they said he was from America, my jaw dropped and it stayed that way for nearly an hour...

    I know and I firmly believe that God helps the people he chooses to lead by giving them grace. Even when I don't understand I believe God's choice is the right one, the best one for us and for our situation at every time and place. So I'm really interested in seeing what comes next. What I really wanted to do first was to sit down and write Leo a card, thanking him for saying "yes". 

    Yes is a wonderful word. We all use it. We say yes to jobs, to relationships, to new cars (or used), to friends, to our doctors (ahem, ahem...) to the good and to the not so good. We even say yes to our confusion or our inability to understand. I believe that we said yes to this life we are living--but don't bend your brain on that one, it can be really confusing. Life is a journey. Somewhere along the line we said "Yes! This is what I want...!"

    And we can say yes in many ways, often without even using words. Like the story about the father with two sons. He wanted to get a job done so he told one son to go do it. The son said "yes" but never went. He told his other son to do it and that son said "no thanks", but changed his mind and did the job. I want to be like the second son. Let my actions inform my words. (See Mat 21:28)

    Teresa of Avila said "God writes straight with crooked lines." He leads his Church with uncertain servants. The holy Spirit works in the world and will not be denied worthy results. This is a powerful hope for all of us. Working together we form a net with all the holes covered--my weakness is covered by your strength. We are "hole-y people". Together, we are perfect for the job. 

    And this is what our Church teaches us. The mission of believers is to do God's work in the world. For ideas about that work, we look to Jesus (and his brothers), teaching, healing, feeding, protecting. "The work is great," he says, "while the workers are few. Come and see where I live." (Mt 9:37 with Jn 1:39) Pope Leo, and Pope Francis before him, make that work real. Serving so close to Christ they remind us every day that this work continues uninterrupted from the night of the Last Supper. My work, your work, our work is all woven into one Work, which is Christ, working in and through the holy Spirit, to unite all humanity with himself. 

    We really need each other. We are the Church.

Holiness 101

 I was thinking about something I read in the Catechism of the Catholic Church.

People who die in God's friendship but require purification undergo purification so as to achieve the holiness they need in order to enter the joy of heaven. (1030) This final purification is what our Church calls “purgatory” which is entirely different from the punishment of the damned. (Council of Florence, 1439; Council of Trent, 1563; Benedict XII, 1336.)

The Catechism connects this concept of purgatory to Matthew 12:31, where Jesus says "Whoever utters blasphemy against the Holy Spirt will be pardoned neither in this age nor in the age to come."

The logic is simple enough. If something can't be forgiven in the age to come, then a) the Age to come is real and b) things can be forgiven after we die. It is possible, then, that we can come to the end of our lives with incomplete holiness. Holiness is so important and so desired for us by God that Catholics believe in Purgatory, a time after death for learning, training, perfecting in whatever we still lack in holiness. That doesn't sound anything like hell, does it?

But it begs the question, why wait? Why not learn all we can about how to be holy right here, right now, starting today, sort of cutting the line when we reach the Great Entrance to Paradise...?

What would that look like?

(More to come...)

New Friends

Today, after much effort, I had my first blog visitor. It's a cool feeling to know I can put my thoughts somewhere and other people can share them. So it occurred to me that I should give you a little background to help my posts make more sense. (Things You Need To Know)

I am a Catholic (maybe that's obvious). So I often talk about Catholic things. I have a moderate-liberal Catholic perspective. Other Catholics can be different. We make mistakes. We struggle with our human nature. On good days, we try to be nice. 

As a (Roman) Catholic I am also a Secular Franciscan. Franciscans are a religious order of Friars who follow the wisdom and inspirations of Saint Francis of Assisi. It's a lifestyle, within the Catholic community. Secular Franciscans are people like me (married or not married) who admire the friar's way of living and praying and adapt it to our everyday lives. Currently there are about 12,000 Secular Franciscans in the United States with about 40K world-wide. Our Church also has Franciscan sisters who also live the Franciscan lifestyle. The important thing to know is that among these three simple expressions there are many, many smaller groups, teams, communities, houses, and convents--most with slight variations in emphasis and styles. All of us, and many more from other Christian communities, think of ourselves as "The Franciscan Family" and are united by mostly-common beliefs, attitudes and convictions. I once heard someone say  "What do you get when you put two Secular Franciscans in the same room?"  The answer is "A potluck..."

I became a Secular Franciscan in 2012 by making my "profession". Profession is not a vow, it's more like a willing agreement. For instance, I was asked "Do you want to follow Christ in the footsteps of Saint Francis?" and I answered "Yes. This is what I want!" Ever since then I've spent much of my time scratching my head because Saint Francis lived eight hundred years ago and Seculars can be every sort of person from ultra-conservative to ultra-liberal. I would say we fall naturally to the "left of center" because Francis worked to ease some of the problems in the world, His story is really interesting.

Since I professed I've been learning more about myself, and the Church, than I ever thought was possible. I like to tell people, "I didn't know how much I needed to be converted until I became a Franciscan." By conversion I mean "to go a new direction". For a higher meaning and purpose I guess you'll have to go ask God because I still don't really know. I just know that God wanted me to be a Franciscan, so I am.

Franciscans believe and value many things. I've been trying to sort them out and here are some of the most important.

• Mercy is more important than "being right..."
• Minority means, given two paths to choose from, Franciscans choose lives of service...
• Community: No matter how crazy your life is or how far away it takes you, you always have family. No one gets left behind...
• Church. God made it. It's good. It's also alive, so expect it to grow, change and bear fruit...
• Christ is the Boss. Without him, none of the other stuff makes sense.

So, this is where I stand and where I come from, even when I'm blogging about hamburgers or roller skates. Because for Franciscans, God is everywhere in everything, and if we pay attention, we can find him wherever we are!

Think it over.

Learning and Growing

 

As I grow older, I'm aware of things that change. Some things I enjoyed when I was young, I can't do any more. Some things I wondered over in my youth are no longer mysterious. These changes require me to adjust both my thinking and my behaviors, for ideas are as powerful as actions...

A friend introduced me to the Catechism of the Catholic Church and challenged me to really read it, dedicating a little time each day to reflect on what it says. One of the things that surprises me is how much I didn't know about our Church. Each day I find something new and amazing—it's like I found a treasure box filled with jewels.

Now, at this point I could start telling you about some of the amazing things I've been reading, but the thing I stopped to talk about is my great surprise to discover that even this late in life there is still so much to learn! Page after page I'm surprised by what I don't know, and delighted to become better informed.

I know that not everyone shares my love for learning. And I know when I say “You shoud read this book!” or “Go here and look at this webpage...!” many of us don't have the time. Or more importantly, it's not time for us to learn. But we shouldn't let such things seperate us because in our diversity, Christ makes us one Body. This means that we can all learn in different ways, at different times and in different directions and still be God's people! It's one of the great gifts we receive through our baptism.

The division and separation in our world right now (“Why do the nations rage...?”) grows from a root of ignorance. We simply don't know that the Spirit of God makes us one body. And if the members of a Body war against one another, the whole body suffers. So our unity is both a gift and a challenge. Unity does not destroy our diversity, but done right, we can employ our unique thinking, actions and personal faith for the service and liberation of the world from sin. Yes, it is our job too. When we accept Christ, we embrace his work...

Faith, like time, changes us. When we start out, we love the way faith gives us certainty. But as we journey in faith we begin to understand that our certainty is invested in God, who exceeds our understanding. So some of the certainties we cling to become weights that hold us down, and ropes that hold us back. Paul once wrote “Test everything; keep what is good.” (1Thes 5:21) As we grow, our certainties can change. Like Peter, we are called to climb out of our boats and walk on water.

In days ahead please remember that uncertainty can be a good development—it can mean that we are growing and improving. The good we seek is often still ahead and if we are not walking, how shall we get there? If our path is on the water, know that He has walked there ahead of us. Don't be afraid to learn new things, even in our “final years”. Christ learned by listening and asking questions. Try it. You might like learning.

Pope Francis 21 April 2025

 I remember the day Pope Francis was elected. The staff at Franciscan Renewal Center was having an ordinary day, an ordinary weekly team meeting. One of the younger members of the team was paying more attention to his cellphone than to the string of departmental reports when he suddenly stood up, held out his phone and shouted “We have a new Pope...!”

Of course, our meeting ended right there as everyone scrambled to peer over his shoulder at the tiny screen, peppering him with questions. “When did it happen?” “Where is he from?” “What name has he chosen...?”

We waited together for answers, learning that he was from South America, that he was a Jesuit and... “He chose the name FRANCIS!” Then someone asked, “Which Francis...?”

Honestly, at that time, I didn't know there were more than one Saint Francis. (I had a lot to learn.) But waiting with everyone to learn that, indeed, that he had chosen Saint Francis of Assisi—OUR Saint Francis—was truly thrilling. We ended our meeting with excitement and joy, wondering what it would all mean. I think I speak for many people when I say we were never disappointed.

These days, much is changed. The first thing I do when I wake up is to check the news on my phone. The first thing I saw today was the news of Pope Francis' death. I was stunned, not understanding, not wanting to believe. I made my Franciscan profession shortly before he was elected. I have read many of his letters, instructions and guidelines. I have the Vatican website in my bookmarks. I have discussed, taught, shared and explored his thoughts and ideas along with many other “people of good will”. He has always seemed present, like a good friend watching over our efforts, joys, struggles and choices.

Today begins a series of formal rites and rituals that help process the passing of a Pope into eternal life. We know God's faithfulness. We are sure of the words “Well done, good and faithful servant!” Our Pope Francis will join the Church Triumphant in advocacy, intercession and the outpouring of blessings. For our part we will continue working in the immediate world. As Secular Franciscans we will continue to respond to our vocation to bring the Gospel to life in the world, “that they may see the good that we do and give glory to God.”

Today, at the start of the joyous Easter Season, we are challenged to reflect on our mission. Have we embraced the call of the Gospel? Have we chosen the gift of unity in peace that is Church? Can we truly call our neighbors brother and sister? Do we love our fraternity...?

As long as we live and breathe, our joys and our challenges will be difficult to separate. Both will ask us for our personal commitment to try and try again, “to live in faithful hope...”, to believe that Christ indeed is King, source and destiny for all humanity. As we wait now for our Church to pray, discern and choose a new Pope, my Easter wish for us all has sharpened in focus and annealed in its strength. In the days ahead, may God bless us all with pace et bene.

Little Messengers

March 10, 2025

In the corner of the room we have a houseguest, a pholcidae spider, sometimes called daddy longlegs, who hangs on invisible silk threads waiting for tiny bugs to wander past. Wikipedia says her web isn't sticky, but she can use it like a net or a lasso. She seems to be quite good at it, and she doesn't bother anyone, so we pretty much leave each other alone. I figure as long as she's happy and busy, I don't need to use bug-spray in the house.

I bring it up because I'm one of those who let dandelions grow until they bloom. Pigeons roost in my rafters, cats hunt in my garden, and in the dry season, wild javalina eat the fruit from my cactus. I watch birds come and build their nests, each in their own season. The most common flowers here are the natives, durable, short-lived, making whole lives in a matter of days between the last rains and the start of long stretches of cloudless days. Life flows in, around and through my house—and I've developed a sort of consciousness of it, like the sound of a radio all the way down at the end of the street.

I think that this awareness of life is an attribute of the human soul which, in the rightful order of Creation, set humans on a special level. We seem poor by comparison with other heavenly creatures, but from the start, the Divine gift of a soul made us capable of participating in God's own life. The soul cares for and directs the body in its natural created life, it is part of who we are.

And it is damaged. The original sin of our ancestors knocked our souls loose, in a sense, like a disconnected wire. The full power of our relationship with God—our life, through him, with him and in him—was inhibited and our souls came to exist in a state of greatly reduced power. The body with its passions assumed an authority that was not its birthright and we've been struggling ever since.

The work of conversion is a journey to awaken and restore the unhindered flow of life between God and people. Jesus, the Christ, by taking on the form and substance of humanity, restored us to full life in God.

But we still struggle. Because our awareness is weak and imperfect. We journey in an arid climate of sin and suffering. We get bits and glimpses of glory, then settle back into a stupor, wondering if we imagined the whole thing.

 Until a little spider shakes her web as if to say “You are not alone.”

Ours is a God who has made himself knowable.

 

People Who Know...

If you've never seen it before, the photo is a vigil light at Our Lady of the Angels church, 5802 East Lincoln Drive, Scottsdale, AZ

It's a Franciscan "convent" church, meaning it belongs to and is staffed by Franciscan friars, with the blessing of our local Bishop. The community (known informally as The Casa) has been there since the 1950s, serving Catholics of every place and bent. JoAnne and I joined more than a dozen years ago, seeking a community that was forward thinking, progressive... and kind. As Catholic communities go, I'd say Our Lady's is a good example of what laypeople can do when they embrace their vocation. Paired with Franciscan values, it means there is a lot of opportunity and support for growth, both in spirit and in understanding. If you come for anything, come to sample Franciscan preaching. And stay for donuts and coffee...

What makes a viable community? Different people look for different things. I mentioned the sermons. I like to be challenged, but even more, I like when someone can open the Scriptures and help me find my place in them, my own "narrow path". I like good community prayer experiences, both traditional and new. I don't mind modern music, though I sometimes hunger for old hymns. I don't mind laypeople serving. After all, we are the Church too. I don't like harsh judgement, but I often need to be told where the boundaries are... and what to do when the Spirit leads me into the wilderness. I've learned a lot at the Casa, and most importantly, I've learned that there is so much more to know!

I've belonged to several communities in my life. It's been like paddling a canoe on a river, going from village to village and island to island. I'm not sure we're meant to spend our lives in just one place, though that can be fruitful too. But I recognize when I need to move. If I find myself sitting in a church and gazing out the door, it's time to go...

And this is how I grow, by following the call of the Holy Spirit. "Come and see!" she says. "Come and see where I live...!" The Spirit moves. We hear its sound and follow.

I don't like the divisions that crop up in our Church these days. But division seems to be everywhere, like the shadow of a cloud. The trick is to not get sucked into arguments, working instead to prevent division from creeping into your own heart. "The best medicine," my parents used to say, handing me a rake, "is to stay busy." 

In a Church devoted to uniting the world, divisions mark where the ground is breaking, places where new things can grow. Is God doing new things in the world? Every day! This is why, even now, I can get up in the morning eager to see what's happening. In all the fuss and turmoil, God is working out his plan for us, drawing us all to himself, in perfect peace.

Learning How To See

 Ken Jenkins wrote a song called "Benedictus". It's in his symphony The Armed Man: A Mass for Peace. The first time I heard it on the radio I nearly crashed my car. I had to pull into a parking lot until it was finished--that's how strongly the music moved me.

Finding a song or experience like that is wonderful. It makes me believe there is far more to this life than we usually notice. Yet, with time the experience mellows and fades until one day you wonder why the song seemed so important. 

Life moves, and we move within it. Our experiences are like glimmers of sunlight on a pond. New lights appear as old lights vanish. Some things endure, like gold and diamonds. Other things are brief and simpler, like tin and pebbles. And then there are experiences upon which our whole life pivots. These take on a power and a life that is not from us, but from beyond. I call them "Burning Bushes" because of the way they make me want to throw off my shoes before I go near them. 

All of these experiences are given to us to help us in our journey. When we find them we love to cling to them, to remember, to re-live the feelings and emotions. But none of it is meant to be permanent. They are there to help us cross the boundary of the perishable world into the world of eternity. Yes, as imperfect as our world is, I believe we can experience some of the qualities and perfections of Heaven right here and now. 

We must remember that all of life is sacred, everything is holy. Little things like buttering toast or tying our shoes can be potent Burning Bush moments because God is immanent, close, near-at-hand. God's breath, moving the branches of the trees. God's hand, covering us in our sleep. We don't need to be fearful or stressed. Even if our daily experiences are tin and pebbles, the Kingdom of Heaven is in them! We just need to learn how to see...

Luke 6: 27-38

 Today's Gospel from Luke 6 (Feb. 23, 2025; 7th Sunday, Ordinary Time) is a "direct order" from Jesus:

• love your enemy
• do good to those who hate you
• bless those who curse you
• pray for those who mistreat you

    He says that when we love our enemies and do good to them, our reward will be great and we will be children of God. I think that last part is good enough. It seems to be what I want most--to be God's child. But when it comes down to being nice to people who aren't nice, that's when the challenge of Christianity becomes real.

    In his first letter to the Corinthians, Saint Paul explains that we are humans from our human ancestor, (the First Adam) and we are also spiritual beings from our spiritual Ancestor, Jesus. Our Church goes on to explain that God our Father wants us to be both. What is imperfect in our human nature will one day be made perfect in Christ.

    Scripture invites us to take on the values of Christ, who loved the poor, weak, grieving, fearful and confused. We meet them every day. And the good news is that in spite of our human weakness God wants us to participate in his love. 

 

    

Will Wonders Ever Cease?

 

    In her book, A Gift From the Sea, Anne Morrow Lindberg writes about a cabin where she spent a summer on a beach. She notes that among the rafters there were spider webs which she didn't care to brush away. I suspect that, to Anne, leaving them there was a quiet act of rebellion against the expectations pressed upon women. Oddly, since reading her thoughts, I've been resistant to bothering most spiders, especially the common residents who hang around my house.

    In one corner, for quite some time now, there lives a Daddy-long-legs who has aptly produced multiple generations of offspring. The spider hangs quietly out of my way, but in a very obvious place, so I have gotten to observe its behavior several times each day. I notice that it has done a fine job of reducing the population of little creepies that love to hide in the cabinets and drawers. I don't mind sweeping up, and I'm always careful not to damage the nearly invisible strands of netting with which the spider harvests its dinner.

    So it was a big surprise one day when I walked into the room and discovered my roommate down on the counter eating a potato chip. I'm not sure what the spider was thinking, and I certainly never knew one to have a picnic. But within the day it finished off the chip and returned to its acrobatic world up near the ceiling. I confess that, since this revelation, I've been tempted to leave Fritos and bits of tacos nearby, just to see if they appeal. It's rather exciting to think that we might have something in common. After all, I love chips and tacos so we're practically buddies.

    One more reason to live and let live. And this, of course, makes me consider my work as a Franciscan. I'm not asking people to like spiders. Rather, I want people to consider how often (and how easily) we draw assumptions about our world that we haven't given any consideration to. If we say "Spiders are bad..." and leave it at that, then it isn't a long leap to saying "People are bad..." while we stare at someone who dresses differently, or wears their hair differently, or collects body art, or likes a different style of music. We all do it. But what would happen if we deliberately choose to do it less? What if we choose to approach each day with wonder, with a wide-open expectation of being surprised somehow, somewhere along the way?

    Wonders really never cease--it's one of God's favorite ways of teaching us. A spider who eats potato chips. A bird who swims in the rain-gutter. Compost that steams beneath the fruit trees. A warm-blooded human person who reaches over and grasps your hand.

    The world is packed with wonders. Take time to see, hear, watch and feel them. Before long, you will begin to notice wonderful new things about God. And why not? God created the world so that we can find him in it.

A Sense For Small Things

    It's late and I should be in bed, but I finally found my old blog and couldn't resist reviving it. After sharing my thoughts via email for three years, a few people asked if I would keep writing and I couldn't see why not.  If people like it, and it helps a little I suppose it's right up my alley. I breathe. I write. It's not complicated.

    But there's a moment when, doing what God has given us the grace to do, the Holy Spirit enters in--not to make us important, but to help others through us. I wouldn't be here today if other people hadn't let God use them. I like to think it's my turn.

    What have I learned, since I became a Secular Franciscan? I was younger when I started and had lots more energy. I was ready to do Big Things and I believed that would make God happy. But looking at my life I understand that I haven't really understood. With God, it isn't the Big Things, it's the little, small, everyday things that he enters into and uses to touch others.

    Secular Franciscans want to help Christ build his Kingdom. Every Christian shares the same call, not to win wars or conquer nations, but to win the daily battle of our own, complicated selves, to allow God to dwell in our ordinary humanness. This really is the "secret" of Franciscan life.  We work within our daily living, to be peacemakers, to be merciful, to be humble (no kidding!) To listen. To speak honestly. To care for all creation...

    It's not that being Franciscan makes us different. I think being Franciscan helps us understand how connected we are with everyone, how much we need each other to become the best person we can be. In every form and challenge of human life, by following the example of Francis of Assisi, the Holy Spirit completes and empowers our human dignity, to the point where we can help others find themselves. 

    It's the reason we are here. God made us human so that we can help bring humanity to fullness in him.

    It's a remarkable journey.