by Liz | Oct 26, 2008 | main
I’m sure we have all made mistakes. We have all exhibited some form of at least mildly unacceptable behaviour at some time in our lives. It’s a part of the learning process. However, when someone steps far outside the boundaries of acceptable behaviour and commits acts that are immoral/illegal then something must me done. Or at least we feel something must be done.
Recently, I watched from afar as someone is being erased. That’s one of the ways we cope with a broken person – someone who needs to be accountable, and at the same time needs healing. We erase them. We remove all references to them. We start the process of making them invisible. The name and the picture are removed from printed material or from a website. Connections are broken. Rooms are cleaned out. Personnel replaced. Or at a family level, the photos may have to be removed from albums and destroyed.
These actions are often needed as a part of a healing process for those who were damaged by the offender’s actions. It’s not all bad. It’s a way of moving forward and not staying focussed on the hurt. It’s probably even a part of the the process of forgiving.
I’ve heard it explained that being in “sin” is the state of being separated – separated from God. Being erased is a rather vivid image of being separated in a human sense. I’m glad that Scripture seems to tell me that God will not erase me. That there is hope – that the prodigal child can return home. I pray never to be erased from a community or a family. And I pray for healing for both those who must do the erasing, and the ones who are erased.
by Liz | Oct 15, 2008 | main
Yesterday a colleague and I were walking back from a meeting when I stepped on a very hard, round acorn on the sidewalk. Much like stepping on a marble… I felt my ankle twist, I fought for my balance, and then hit the sidewalk pretty hard. The result was a skinned knee and a scraped elbow. Oh, and not a little embarrassment. After checking that there was nothing truly wrong, I got back to my feet. My friend picked up my tea from the sidewalk, and then, once he knew I was OK, he chuckled. I had slammed to the sidewalk without spilling my drink or losing my cigarette.
I have to think – what is wrong with this picture? I’m scraped up and my ankle is a bit sore, but my drink and my smoke are in fine shape. Somehow, I think I’m too attached to caffeine and nicoteine. After all, in the flash of the moment of falling, that’s what I protected.
It’s happened before. I’ve been shown what I care most about. When I was accompanied in to my house that had burned the night before, I recall that the first thing that popped out was — “My guitar is in there!” Granted, I knew that my family was unharmed, so that wasn’t an issue. But, of all the items that had been in the house, the first thing that raced to the front of my “concern line” was my guitar. And the same seems to have been true when I took a tumble in the choir loft at church which resulted in a swollen knee, but a completely unscathed guitar.
I take some comfort in the realization that these moments of light also reflect that I never questioned God’s love for me. I never cursed (and believe me, I am capable of that). But, it’s interesting to know what things I cling to a protect. Are these objects and habits a part of my identity? It seems so.
And so, I have some work to do. It’s not comfortable to think that a cigarette and a glass of tea might be more important than a kneecap or an elbow.
Thank God that with my unstable balance and my seemingly weak ankle, I’ve learned to fall gracefully. I just hope I’ve not learned to fall from grace.
by Liz | Sep 28, 2008 | main
Do you know the term “switchback”? or maybe the sailing term “tacking.” – If I’m not mistaken, both refer to making progress by taking a zigzag sort of course – progress is made, but there’s an awful lot of switching direction. Rather like my take on today’s gospel…
Jesus talks about the two sons – the Father tells both of them what he wants them to do. The first one says “no way!” but later decides to go ahead and do his father’s will. The second says “Yes! certainly.” and then go on his merry way without doing anything.
It’s no good to try to figure out which of these children I am. I am both. In times of growing, I can hear a call and it hits so close to home that I turn and say “no way! I can’t do that. I won’t do that.” But, it eats at me, and I come around. Other times, I feel so interested, and say “yes!” and then I fail to do anything.
I am a convert to the Catholic Church. Now, I’ve been a Catholic Christian for far longer than I was a protestant Christian, but the path that got me here was the one of the older (?) or first brother from the gospel. I was sitting on a hill, in front of a fig tree near the Catholic Student Center when it occurred to me that I was to join this community. “Not me, God. You have the wrong person.” The very idea rocked my soul to the core. Good Calvinist Christians do not join the Catholic Church. No way.
As time passed, the idea wouldn’t leave me. I finally gave up fighting the request and began to go through the preparations to join the church. Funny, I went through the classes no less than 2 full rounds. And, in the end, I had to convince the priests and sisters that I was serious. I understand their hesitation – and they were right to try to make sure that I was serious. The road has not always been smooth, but, after the initial “No” I found I had to reconsider and say “Yes.”
The times when I am the second son are many and not so dramatic. And, right now, I am not even willing to address some of them in an open forum. But, the “Yes” with no follow-up happens more often than I would like.
This journey is one of switchbacks and tacking. It is good to know that God is always calling. It is good to know that the Spirit is there as the wind in my sails, even when I have to tack for a great distance. It is good to remember that “yes” can happen even after the initial turn-down and wise to remember that just because I say “yes” the task is not yet accomplished.
by Liz | Sep 27, 2008 | main
Today I join my Vincentian brothers and sisters in celebrating the feast of St. Vincent de Paul.
My thoughts too jumbled to write much about how the life of this 17th century French priest has shaped my understanding of God’s love and how to live in response to that. He recognized the value of women and their contributions. He taught clergy to work with laity. He believed that action was necessary, but must be preceded by prayer and meditation. He used the tools of his day to communicate with others. He was inspired by the poor to work for and with the poor.
Timeless themes in my view. Practical ideas of how to live the Gospel.
And so I thank God, not only for Vincent’s life, but for the many who live out this Charism – especially those who are closest to me and walk parts of this journey with me.
More on Vincent de Paul, the Vincentian Charism and the many people and groups that have grown out of this Charism is available in the Vincentian Encyclopedia.
by Liz | Sep 24, 2008 | main
Susan talked about an epiphany of sorts in a post back in June: the “aha!” of the reality that the trees in her backyard may legally belong to her, but she really doesn’t own them. How true.
“Owning” land, or trees or even a house isn’t really ownership: it’s an obligation to stewardship. It has long seemed to me that when the book of Genesis states that man was given dominion over the world, that didn’t mean that we (humans) own the world, but that we are responsible for taking care of and with the land, the trees and the other creatures that share our world. This planet, this piece of creation is to be enjoyed, but not abused. It is to be respected and cared for. And this respect and care is not just for my benefit, but for all the world.
The same concept applies to Cooper and Grace. One paper, legally, I own 2 schnauzers. In reality, I have accepted the responsibility for these creatures. I am responsible for insuring that they are properly cared for. I am responsible for making sure that they get fed on a regular schedule, that they have a safe place to live, that they get attention and that they go visit the vet and keep up on immunizations and don’t suffer from parasites or other preventable illnesses. Rather like children, they are.
So, when the Stewardship committee at church begins to challenge us, I have to take that with the same seriousness. The life of the Christian community in my parish is a part of my responsibility. This life survives only with care and feeding — or is that prayer and participation? Just as with weeding the flowerbed, or paying attention to the dogs, this community thrives on the care and attention of those who consider themselves a part of it.
Some days I don’t feel like it — I don’t think I have the time or energy. Just like some evenings when the last thing I want is a hot dog sitting on my lap, but I give them a few minutes anyway. Or the evenings when I really don’t feel up to choir practice, but I go anyway.
Stewardship: I guess it’s really the required care and feeding/prayer and participation in life wherever you are.
by Liz | Sep 23, 2008 | main
We are all given talents – gifts, that is. Jesus even taught about this in the parable where the 3 individuals were given varying talents. He goes away for a while and returns later to see how these talents were used… It sounds like a talent is like a dollar, but it could be anything. Anyway, as we all know, the one who got 5000, went out and doubled the amount. The same with 3000. But the one who had little, only 1000, buried them, and returned exactly what he received. The first 2 were praised, the 3 scolded and sent away.
It seems to be about investment. I have many gifts, many talents. Not great talents, not great gifts, but an adequate supply. These won’t make me famous. And, in my mind’s eye, they are probably minor talents. But, the ones that I have invested are the ones that have paid off.
I love music. I don’t have a wonderful voice — I’ve long suffered from allergies, and I’ve done things that haven’t helped my voice quality. Over the course of nearly 45 years, I have spent a lot of time with a guitar in my hands. I’m good enough to know how good I’m not. But, the investment has paid off. I am a parish musician. As such, I have been put in intimate contact with music that expresses the things that I don’t have spoken words to express. I have had the opportunity to learn from other musicians. Scripture put to music speaks to me at many levels, and I remember it better. It has led me to read church documents of liturgy that I would probably have never looked at otherwise. It causes me to consider the Sunday readings more deeply as I try to select music to celebrate the themes. For me, the investment in this bit of a talent I have been given has paid back even more than the doubling of the gift that the 2 good servants experienced. I pray that this is what the Lord is asking of me.
In other areas, I’m a bit more like the bad servant. I’ve buried gifts that I don’t care to pursue. My mother has observed repeatedly that I always wanted to pursue things that I wasn’t good at, and ignore things that came easy or that I could be good at. Maybe that is true. I’m certain I have never lived up to my academic potential.
It’s funny though – the practice of crafting these posts is an investment in a talent that maybe I have buried. I thank my friends who encourage me to practice writing. I am grateful for their support of my investment in any small gift I have for stringing a bunch of words together to convey an idea.
With that said, I’ll also continue to encourage the gifts and talents of others. The ability to do that seems to be such a gift that I see in others, and one worthy of investment.
