Praying for the Enemy
I had a serendipitous conversation with a friend a couple of days ago that started with being tired of being angry. Anger is a very tiresome emotion. It can really suck the life out of a person, and it is pretty useless and non-productive. Oh, I know that there are times when Anger has seemed to energize me and moved me to action. But, even then, it is a very draining way of being moved to action.
My friend mentioned that she had in the not so distant past decided to pray for all the men she had dated over the past 20 years… I don’t know what the issues are/were, but, I could tell that that there had been much anger and frustration. I knew where she was coming from, since I once had a penance that involved offering every song I sung at mass for those that I felt persecuted me. (Music was one component of the persecution) Aaarrggghhh! I almost cried because I knew it was exactly what was needed.
Funny thing about this idea of praying for those who persecute you: Both of us reflected that we started slowly and begrudgingly to walk through the motions of praying for those we were angry with and had been deeply hurt by. We just said the words because it was the right thing to do. Slowly, it changed. Slowly, the process moved from saying prayers for them to praying for them. Then, to really praying for them. And one day you look up and realize that you are really praying for them, and Anger has given up trying to hold you in that place where you eat the rat poison and hope the rat dies.
Myself, I understood that when one of those who I felt persecuted me launched into something that would previously have angered me, hurt me, made me feel in danger. I realized that I was no longer angry, but very sad for this person. I was praying for him. I was asking God to bring healing and good things into his life. What a load I set down that day.
That’s not so say that these persecutions were not painful or that at some level I was not justified in my feelings of anger toward the other. And, in some cases, in many cases, you may not ever be close to the persecutor. It might be bad and downright dangerous. But, to move from a need for vengeance and anger to a place of letting go, stepping back from me and into a place of sincere concern for someone is one of those miracles we need in our daily lives.
Crying for my home
I live in Alabama. I was born in this state, and have lived somewhere in Alabama for all but about 9 1/2 years of my life. There are many things I love about my home state. We aren’t all married to first cousins, and there are many intelligent, interesting, gentle, loving people in this state. But lately, I’m experiencing deep sorrow.
Perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised much by recent developments. After all, I am old enough to remember George Wallace blocking the door at the University of Alabama; I even have vague memories of Bull Connor and his dogs and fire hoses. So, why be surprised at the actions of the Alabama Legislature now? Maybe I’m not so much surprised as disappointed and saddened.
It’s not just this stupid, malicious immigration law that was passed recently. It’s not just the idiocy of the death penalty. True, it is embarrassing to make a new friend in a different state, and then to tell them it would be a bad plan if they came to visit because it’s a really bad time to have skin other than pasty white in this state right now. Really doesn’t matter if you are legal or undocumented if you look like you might not have the proper ethnic background. I read about those who have decided it is too dangerous to stay here. I wonder about my own church community which is probably close to 50% latino. I worry about the children who will be ripped out of schools — and for those they will leave behind.
If that weren’t enough concern, the legislature decided to change the rules for things like health insurance for teachers who retire after December 1. There are many stories in the news about the loss of personnel from school systems that will result from this. I know people who have suddenly decided to get out now… and “now” means in the middle of the school year. To finish the school year as a teacher or administrator or lunch room manager means losing ground. The timing is insanity for teachers, principals and students.
My snarky, dark side sits back and thinks: Well, maybe we won’t need the teachers, etc because there will be fewer students. Could be.
The sad part is that those who think these laws and changes are good, are probably not going to see the effects first hand. As best I can figure, politicians and legislators inhabit a different universe from the one I live in. They will find a way to blame the innocent and the victims for the problems they themselves have created and fostered.
I cry for Alabama. I fear Alabama will get what she deserves.
Public Life (wanted or not)
Scary at times… Google and Amazon really keep tabs on all of us.
A couple of days ago I was searching for an image of a First Years stroller for a review on a website, toady Amazon sends me email suggesting 10 First Years strollers that they hope I’m interested in buying. I get suggestions for protein and energy bars, electronics, books… If I ever browsed for something they know it and are ready to keep it in front of me.
Google and Gmail are not as obtrusive, but they also pay very close attention.
Privacy is an illusion. I am pretty sure of that. So, it seems that one had better be in touch and comfortable with all those things that one searches and follows. Pure at heart? Or at least ready to own our own vices and curiosities… Because Big Brother is just around the corner.
Family Wedding
We just returned from a quick weekend trip to Block Island (RI) to celebrate my brother-in-law’s wedding. This is a second chance for both of them and it was a wonderful occasion and opportunity for the joining of 2 families. It’s fun to watch the adult children offer the toasts and to see the way the four of them have bonded. I know it can work, because my family expanded from 3 in our generation to 6 when I was in my 30’s. We are one family.
But I had a moment of slight sadness. Watching the cousins (the bride and groom’s children and their cousins who made it to the event) I so wished that the southern cousins (our 3) could have been there. They get together maybe every 2 or 3 years at the beach in the summer, and all showed up for each of our 3 weddings. I was sorry that David, Marie and Daniel (and their spouses) were unable to make the trip. It always does my heart good to see them together.
There is a bond there that sometimes seems a mystery to me. They know that they are connected despite differences and distances. Wouldn’t it be a better world if this kind of connection existed in abundance the world over? We are all one grand family in this world, but how easily we can forget the connection. Or maybe, like me, we often feel so very disconnected.
So — here’s to connectedness. Here’s to the fun of seeing blended families that work. Here’s to seeing a former sister-in-law that I haven’t seen in more than 15 years (and it was really great to see her and no, she wasn’t at the wedding, just happened to be at the same place earlier in the day). Here’s to self-written vows, a justice of the peace and a glass stomped in true Jewish tradition.
Teaching to the Test
In Alabama, the new school year is starting. In the US, those of us who work in education or are closely related to those who do, are surely aware of No Child Left Behind. Sounds like a good idea on the surface. But, the guidelines seem to reflect Garrison Keillor’s claim about lake Woebegon: “… and all the children are above average.” Something about the concept of average got lost. To have be average means that something is above (higher, better, a bigger number) you and something is below (lower, not as good, smaller number) you… or that everything is exactly the same, with nothing outstanding at all. Not gonna work, if I understand the requirements. If you get everyone up to what was the average when you started, and some move beyond, then average is higher.
Don’t get me wrong here — I want every child to be able to develop to her/his own potential. I do want some recognition that each child’s potential can be quite different.
So, what happens? Too often, teachers find that they must “Teach to the test.” Teach only those things that someone has decreed to be essential, because if any child can’t master this enough to fill in the proper circle on the page, then the entire year is a failure. Leaves little room for preparing those kids to think, to experiment, to learn even more (or less) than the prescribed lesson.
It seems rather like church. I didn’t grow up a Catholic, but even I can start to give a Baltimore Catechism answer to Who is God? Why did God Make Us? It’s true that catechism (Baltimore or New) answers can give a starting point for exploring my own walk in faith. So often, it seems, rote answers are the end of this journey, not the beginning. The proper answer is what is expected. It is the test. The Church teaches to the Test, instead of leading people beyond or pointing people to the Source. I have a strong sense that Jesus wasn’t looking for everyone to be average.
Just thinking… that’s all.