Evil. Heinous Act. Enemy. Vitriol. Lip Server. Civil Servant.
Listening to coverage of the shootings in Tuscon, I have been struck by the words we use to describe harsh experiences--harsh realities. It is not to say that harsh words should be avoided, at all costs--at the further, unintended impacts they may have.
Evil has not been blared from the megaphone of Tuscon's experience. Thank God. May we commit ourselves to not embrace Evil--be it not in our explanations of actions taken. Evil's Stinger is deep. Deeper than we may realize.
Heinous Act? Yes. In the Vocabulary of our Culture's Speech, Heinous Act does not have Evil's stinger.
Heinous Act possesses the same precision in its attack on our soul.
Harsh words--harsh realities--call for us to be anesthetized. Our spirits--our souls--must be strengthened--not calloused--by our wound's healing. From our anesthetized wounds, we must commit ourselves to remember the color of our wound in the person we live on to be--to become. Our wound may lose her sting. Her color may fade. Yet, her lessons to the better persons we might be must be heard. Her lessons must be given voice in the persons we live on to be.
May we never enunciate the words, "the Enemy," to explain a Heinous Act. May we not ignite the vehicle Enemy offers to transport our wounded soul. May we never be a lip server--an endorser of The Enemy's word.
I pray Vitriol's lesson may be our guidepost on our journey to Civility.
May we be Civil Servants to our lives, not Lip Servers to our moments--to each day we are given to live.
I am hope-filled. A fool I may be. Yet, rather a hope-filled fool than a cynic's champion, or a skeptic's slave I hope to be.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Grasping Gabrielle Giffords' Memory
I, as many, have been drawn to the shooting of twenty individuals--the killing of six. Others are well-equipped to address the motives, proper criminal adjudication, appropriate legislation to enact. I am responsible to communicate my beliefs to my Senators, and Representative.
Yet, for now, my attention is stuck on the brain injury of Gabrielle Giffords. As I understand it, the bullet went through the left hemisphere of her brain, and came out the other side. My interest is not academic. No, I have never been struck in the head by a bullet. No, I am not a doctor, nor do I play one on television.
My interest in Gabrielle Giffords' current condition, and the future impact of her brain injury, rests in my experience being born with cerebral palsy. My umbilical cord was wrapped around my neck five times at birth, which caused the oxygen supply to the left part of my brain to be cut off for several seconds. I remember those facts better than any fact entrusted to me in my 50 years of living.
Speech loss, and difficulty regurgitating what has been spoken to you, has been mentioned a number of times. Though feared at my birth--rarely, not always, but rarely--am I at a loss for words. Yet, when it comes to retaining what has been spoken to me, that is another story. I do not have a proclivity for the sciences, but, I do have a deep fascination with--appreciation of--the interworkings of the brain. They are truly miraculous.
I remember an imbalance of anticonvulsants left me coherent in my written communication, and understanding, yet, wholly without short-term memory for three weeks. I was an outsider to the human thought process. I recognized people I knew, I remembered their names.
Yet, spoken words, and instructions were beyond my grasp--they floated by as a kite on a March day. I was frightened that my short-term memory would never be returned to me, as if it was My Possession to keep.
My short-term memory never has been my best of friends. Yet, she and I are coming to an understanding. If I listen, she will tell me when she may no longer serve me. She and Intuition have formed a partnership. Both commit themselves to serve me--to serve the sharing of my person each day.
May Gabrielle Giffords be given the service of her brain--her speech, her short-term memory, all of the amazing gifts of her brain. May no pressure be added to her brain as to what her future may be--may allow. Only God knows what she--what any of us--may do a moment from now, much less a day, week, month, year or more from now. An accident, or an injury deceives us into thinking that anticipating the future is possible to accomplish.
May we live each day, not for what it might be, but, for what it is. May we find some appreciation of the "is" that is beneath what we hope it "might be," as if it were ours to dictate. May we be given the hope, and the strength to seek what "might be" without being embittered to what "is."
God grant me hope. God grant me strength. God grant me laughter. Thank God for the Written Word.
Yet, for now, my attention is stuck on the brain injury of Gabrielle Giffords. As I understand it, the bullet went through the left hemisphere of her brain, and came out the other side. My interest is not academic. No, I have never been struck in the head by a bullet. No, I am not a doctor, nor do I play one on television.
My interest in Gabrielle Giffords' current condition, and the future impact of her brain injury, rests in my experience being born with cerebral palsy. My umbilical cord was wrapped around my neck five times at birth, which caused the oxygen supply to the left part of my brain to be cut off for several seconds. I remember those facts better than any fact entrusted to me in my 50 years of living.
Speech loss, and difficulty regurgitating what has been spoken to you, has been mentioned a number of times. Though feared at my birth--rarely, not always, but rarely--am I at a loss for words. Yet, when it comes to retaining what has been spoken to me, that is another story. I do not have a proclivity for the sciences, but, I do have a deep fascination with--appreciation of--the interworkings of the brain. They are truly miraculous.
I remember an imbalance of anticonvulsants left me coherent in my written communication, and understanding, yet, wholly without short-term memory for three weeks. I was an outsider to the human thought process. I recognized people I knew, I remembered their names.
Yet, spoken words, and instructions were beyond my grasp--they floated by as a kite on a March day. I was frightened that my short-term memory would never be returned to me, as if it was My Possession to keep.
My short-term memory never has been my best of friends. Yet, she and I are coming to an understanding. If I listen, she will tell me when she may no longer serve me. She and Intuition have formed a partnership. Both commit themselves to serve me--to serve the sharing of my person each day.
May Gabrielle Giffords be given the service of her brain--her speech, her short-term memory, all of the amazing gifts of her brain. May no pressure be added to her brain as to what her future may be--may allow. Only God knows what she--what any of us--may do a moment from now, much less a day, week, month, year or more from now. An accident, or an injury deceives us into thinking that anticipating the future is possible to accomplish.
May we live each day, not for what it might be, but, for what it is. May we find some appreciation of the "is" that is beneath what we hope it "might be," as if it were ours to dictate. May we be given the hope, and the strength to seek what "might be" without being embittered to what "is."
God grant me hope. God grant me strength. God grant me laughter. Thank God for the Written Word.
The King's Speech...Stolen Dignity
The King's Speech, a portrayal of King George VI, invites us to listen to Dignity's words. This film opens the door to the childhood--the ascension of--a boy, who stutters, to the English monarchy.
Queen Mary and King George V became the parents to a boy they named, "Albert Frederick Arthur George." Royalty dictated that the honor and heritage of the House of Windsor be carried forward. Such a name fit the bill.
Yet, "Albert Frederick Arthur George" was a name not befitting of the young boy--of his person. The boy had a speech impediment--stuttering--that was the excuse used to pardon his family for their mistreatment.
As a child, his family wanted nothing to do with his stuttering. It was a shame for them to have to confess, if they were to embrace him fully, as any son--any child--deserves from their parents, their family, everyone who meets him deserves.
"They just did not understand. Forgive them." We say that of the House of Windsor. The King and Queen did not bequeath to their son the honor and heritage of the House of Windsor. Queen Mary and King George V bequeathed to their son Stolen Dignity.
Yet, let us not follow their lead.
Dignity? What is it? Dignified. What does it look like? What does it sound like?
Dignity is prerequisite for royalty. Dignified is a royal requirement.
Dignity speaks to us today, if we are listening to Her words.
Yes, forgive them, but, do not let forgiveness be an excuse for not pursuing the dignity worthy of everyone's life--each person's gifts regardless of class.
Immersed in his family's view of him, Albert Frederick Arthur George accepted their view as gospel. He was to be shunned, ridiculed at best. At worst...the worst is unspeakable, at least by him.
Royalty, aspiring royalty, was to radiate dignity. When Queen Mary and King George V conceived their son, dignity dictated his name to be, "Albert Frederick Arthur George." God forbid too short a name be given. Royalty dictates "proper" distance be maintained. His long name did just that.
Royalty demanded being steeped in the honor and dignity of the House of Windsor. Yet, the bequest of such a long name, regardless of any speech impediment, hinders the formation of intimate friendship.
Albert Frederick Arthur George's story offers that exaggeration we need to stop. Let us consider the sheer length of the name stood between him and anyone he was to meet.
As an adult, his wife sought help for her husband's stuttering. The speech coach, Lionel Logue, asked what his name was, to which the future king said, "Albert Frederick Arthur George."
That would not do. "Bertie" was the name given to him, a name that helped to free him of the weight of expectations. "Bertie" and Lionel grew to be trusted friends. Lionel helped Bertie to become the next King of England, who succeeded his father, King George V. Ironically, his ascension to the throne led to his being named, "King George VI."
With Lionel's help, trust, and friendship, Bertie surmounted any burden from the past that becoming King George VI may have placed on him.
Through Bertie, Albert Frederick Arthur George was transformed into King George VI.
Queen Mary and King George V became the parents to a boy they named, "Albert Frederick Arthur George." Royalty dictated that the honor and heritage of the House of Windsor be carried forward. Such a name fit the bill.
Yet, "Albert Frederick Arthur George" was a name not befitting of the young boy--of his person. The boy had a speech impediment--stuttering--that was the excuse used to pardon his family for their mistreatment.
As a child, his family wanted nothing to do with his stuttering. It was a shame for them to have to confess, if they were to embrace him fully, as any son--any child--deserves from their parents, their family, everyone who meets him deserves.
"They just did not understand. Forgive them." We say that of the House of Windsor. The King and Queen did not bequeath to their son the honor and heritage of the House of Windsor. Queen Mary and King George V bequeathed to their son Stolen Dignity.
Yet, let us not follow their lead.
Dignity? What is it? Dignified. What does it look like? What does it sound like?
Dignity is prerequisite for royalty. Dignified is a royal requirement.
Dignity speaks to us today, if we are listening to Her words.
Yes, forgive them, but, do not let forgiveness be an excuse for not pursuing the dignity worthy of everyone's life--each person's gifts regardless of class.
Immersed in his family's view of him, Albert Frederick Arthur George accepted their view as gospel. He was to be shunned, ridiculed at best. At worst...the worst is unspeakable, at least by him.
Royalty, aspiring royalty, was to radiate dignity. When Queen Mary and King George V conceived their son, dignity dictated his name to be, "Albert Frederick Arthur George." God forbid too short a name be given. Royalty dictates "proper" distance be maintained. His long name did just that.
Royalty demanded being steeped in the honor and dignity of the House of Windsor. Yet, the bequest of such a long name, regardless of any speech impediment, hinders the formation of intimate friendship.
Albert Frederick Arthur George's story offers that exaggeration we need to stop. Let us consider the sheer length of the name stood between him and anyone he was to meet.
As an adult, his wife sought help for her husband's stuttering. The speech coach, Lionel Logue, asked what his name was, to which the future king said, "Albert Frederick Arthur George."
That would not do. "Bertie" was the name given to him, a name that helped to free him of the weight of expectations. "Bertie" and Lionel grew to be trusted friends. Lionel helped Bertie to become the next King of England, who succeeded his father, King George V. Ironically, his ascension to the throne led to his being named, "King George VI."
With Lionel's help, trust, and friendship, Bertie surmounted any burden from the past that becoming King George VI may have placed on him.
Through Bertie, Albert Frederick Arthur George was transformed into King George VI.
Children of God....People of God
Christian maturity consists in “growing up” enough to become a child, dependent on and totally confident in God. To be “saved,” is to become a child.
Rev. Richard Gabuzda
http://onlineministries.creighton.edu/CollaborativeMinistry/123110.html
I have been addressed as a child of God in one parish, and as a person of God in another. I treasure both. I strive to be both--a child of God, and a person of God.
In 1987, I attended a parish led by an Irish priest--Father Phillip McArdle. Most of the parishioners were in their 70s, and 80s. I was 27. They were married. I was single. Other parishioners were well-established in their faith life. I was searching to establish mine. I was liberal in my thoughts--I had been unchurched structurally. Father McArdle was fairly traditional. All but three of Father McArdle's words are lost to my memory.
Yet, as clearly as I am here today, I can hear Father McArdle's invitation to wonderment, "Children of God." Father McArdle radiated a faith-filled joy that I treasure.
I was engaged intellectually in a campus ministry following my college graduation.
In 1998, I joined a vibrant faith community. The invitation Father Leo offers is, "People of God."
I pray I may be a person of God, who listens keenly, and responds lovingly. I pray I yet may be a Child of God, who is filled with Wonder, and not Jaded by Life.
Rev. Richard Gabuzda
http://onlineministries.creighton.edu/CollaborativeMinistry/123110.html
I have been addressed as a child of God in one parish, and as a person of God in another. I treasure both. I strive to be both--a child of God, and a person of God.
In 1987, I attended a parish led by an Irish priest--Father Phillip McArdle. Most of the parishioners were in their 70s, and 80s. I was 27. They were married. I was single. Other parishioners were well-established in their faith life. I was searching to establish mine. I was liberal in my thoughts--I had been unchurched structurally. Father McArdle was fairly traditional. All but three of Father McArdle's words are lost to my memory.
Yet, as clearly as I am here today, I can hear Father McArdle's invitation to wonderment, "Children of God." Father McArdle radiated a faith-filled joy that I treasure.
I was engaged intellectually in a campus ministry following my college graduation.
In 1998, I joined a vibrant faith community. The invitation Father Leo offers is, "People of God."
I pray I may be a person of God, who listens keenly, and responds lovingly. I pray I yet may be a Child of God, who is filled with Wonder, and not Jaded by Life.
Stolen Dignity
Seeing The King's Speech brought to the fore two words, stolen dignity. Albert Frederick George Arthur was raised with established expectations of what he should have, what he should offer to his life of royalty.
It is so easy to demand of ourselves, and of our daily lives, that we be "equipped with" very basic tools by which to live. When our demands are not met, we meet an unwelcome guest--Stolen Dignity. Many speak with a seemingly cavalier spirit, in which they declare--demand--that we respect all human life. In the same spirit, many declare the dignity of all human life.
If I am misreading the intent of those, who so speak, I welcome the correction. I leave to God to know the true intent of such speech and thought.
Yet, I am called to share a very different form of dignity that speaks with a whisper, if that. What do we expect--demand--that we be equipped with in our body, mind, and emotion, so that we may share our gifts each day? How do we respond when our daily demands are not met?
Stolen Dignity. The withholding of such "equipment," and the deaf ear we are given in response to our demands, teeter at the brink in "Stolen Dignity."
How do we reclaim Dignity? What "equipment" are we to seek? What transformation are we called to seek, so that we may be blessed with Dignity?
With Stolen Dignity, we are stripped of our crisp, white shirts, and ascot-adorned coats. But, what is the prayer that transforms Stolen Dignity? How does that transformation appear to our eyes, and resonate within us?
It is so easy to demand of ourselves, and of our daily lives, that we be "equipped with" very basic tools by which to live. When our demands are not met, we meet an unwelcome guest--Stolen Dignity. Many speak with a seemingly cavalier spirit, in which they declare--demand--that we respect all human life. In the same spirit, many declare the dignity of all human life.
If I am misreading the intent of those, who so speak, I welcome the correction. I leave to God to know the true intent of such speech and thought.
Yet, I am called to share a very different form of dignity that speaks with a whisper, if that. What do we expect--demand--that we be equipped with in our body, mind, and emotion, so that we may share our gifts each day? How do we respond when our daily demands are not met?
Stolen Dignity. The withholding of such "equipment," and the deaf ear we are given in response to our demands, teeter at the brink in "Stolen Dignity."
How do we reclaim Dignity? What "equipment" are we to seek? What transformation are we called to seek, so that we may be blessed with Dignity?
With Stolen Dignity, we are stripped of our crisp, white shirts, and ascot-adorned coats. But, what is the prayer that transforms Stolen Dignity? How does that transformation appear to our eyes, and resonate within us?
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