I am a reasonable, rational person--most times.
Antibullying legislation is being opposed by the Minnesota Catholic Conference, and Catholic dioceses in Minnesota?
Why you ask?
Antibullying legislation violates religious freedom!
How!
I am Catholic. I was drawn to Catholicism by virtue of peace and respect that pervades Catholic traditions.
Bullying cannot be tolerated in a civil society. It just can't. Case closed.
Antibullying is an instrument of moral, and ethical accountability, which the Catholic Church must embrace. Freedom without moral and ethical accountability is hollow at best.
Bullying is not an academic matter to me.
Bullying. Patty. Bullying. Palsy Patty. Bullying. Being tossed off the junior high bus seat. Bullying. The principal, "Just bring in the names of the bullies, and we will take care of it," Bullying. Risking a junior high school friendship-- getting the names of the bullies. Bullying. The principal, "Oh, we can't do anything." Bullying. Mimicking my bent, cerebral palsied hand. Bullying.
Forty years have passed between then and now. Yet, my visceral response to bullying is undiluted.
1974. I vowed that whatever form it might take, I would act to ensure that no other individual had to experience--endure--the pain--the stolen dignity that bullying effects on innocent human beings.
Bullies moved me to embrace the respect and peace that Catholicism exuded--the Treasure of Christ.
The Catholic Church opposes antibullying legislation in the name of religious liberty. How! Tell me how!
That is unconscionable. Absolutely unconscionable.
Being Catholic has taught me to be a Child of God. Not in the level of my maturity. Being Catholic has taught me to be a Person of God--full of unjaded wonder, untarnished awe at life that surrounds me.
Being Catholic has taught me to be a Person of God. Not in the level of my maturity. Being Catholic has taught me to be a Person of God--embracing joy, embracing God. Relinquishing temptation to be held captive to the dark skepticism and cynicism of life that surrounds me.
Antibullying legislation is not an obstacle to religious liberty. Antibullying legislation is an instrumentt of love--a staff to guide us into human decency.
Showing posts with label awe. Show all posts
Showing posts with label awe. Show all posts
Monday, May 6, 2013
Sunday, April 21, 2013
But...If My Life Was Perfect...
But...if my life was perfect....
I would not:
Be sensitive
Be compassionate
Be understanding of other people--of the world around me
Be flexible in how I approach and accomplish physical tasks
Be flexible in how I view the diversity of people, beliefs, and cultures
Be awe-struck by beauty around me
Be wonder-filled about life within and around me--life distant from me
Be appreciative of basic human capacities--thinking, and walking, to name a few
Be attentive to how words are used--how I use words
Be attentive to how my words and actions affect other people I know and do not know
Be blessed with a sense of humor
Be determined to live my life fully
Be passionate about pursuing my interests
Be interested in learning every day--each moment--of my life
Be willing to apologize when I had offended someone else, or stolen someone's dignity
Be dedicated to fulfilling my human potential, and encouraging others to do so
Be open to the notion that this list is not complete
Be baptized...be willing to seek an ongoing living of baptism
If My Life Were Perfect, I Would Not Be Human.
I would not:
Be sensitive
Be compassionate
Be understanding of other people--of the world around me
Be flexible in how I approach and accomplish physical tasks
Be flexible in how I view the diversity of people, beliefs, and cultures
Be awe-struck by beauty around me
Be wonder-filled about life within and around me--life distant from me
Be appreciative of basic human capacities--thinking, and walking, to name a few
Be attentive to how words are used--how I use words
Be attentive to how my words and actions affect other people I know and do not know
Be blessed with a sense of humor
Be determined to live my life fully
Be passionate about pursuing my interests
Be interested in learning every day--each moment--of my life
Be willing to apologize when I had offended someone else, or stolen someone's dignity
Be dedicated to fulfilling my human potential, and encouraging others to do so
Be open to the notion that this list is not complete
Be baptized...be willing to seek an ongoing living of baptism
If My Life Were Perfect, I Would Not Be Human.
Friday, March 15, 2013
Pope Francis I
February 11th 2013 was a day of historic surprise. Adrift in the Mediterranean on vacation, I floated in my own excitement--surprise at my own excitement--regarding the resignation of Pope Benedict XVI. I was aflutter with excitement over who the next pope might be--over what people at home, invested in church reform, were thinking and saying.
My faith does not rest--does not depend upon--the stance of the Pope, or the state of the Vatican in the Catholic Church.
Raised as a Universalist, "church hierarchy" was not an issue. By its very nature, church hierarchy was nonexistent. Sometimes I feel out of step when I hear that phrase, because it is not a part of my spiritual heritage.
I am reticent to criticize the Universalist Church, more often referred to as the Unitarian Universalist Federation today. Rather, with all due respect, I want to speak as someone who understands the need to have church hierarchy of some form in order to have a rich spiritual heritage, which may be transmitted--communicated--from one generation to the next. The Universalist Church, as I was raised to call it, was a marvelous home for my parents. They did not find their needs to be met in the Catholic, or Episcopalian Churches of the 1940s. Later, the Congregationalist Church specific to their experience was a transition time for them. Later, with young children, the Universalist Church met their needs. From the Catholic, and Episcopalian Churches, my parents left the pageantry, not the basic Christian values of love and hope. Although "faith" was something understood to them as a trapping--a mindless trapping of the pageantry they sought to escape.
I came into their lives without the heritage of the Catholic or Episcopalian Churches--without the Christian tradition--to draw upon in my childhood. I was left to draw upon the Universalist Church tradition that worshipped the mind, the intellect, and reason, as the sole sources of answers to the big questions of life.
I value my mind, my intellect, and reason. However, the answers I sought, and the answers I seek exceed the purview of the mind, the intellect, and reason. Beyond words to explain--beyond any words, faith is my home in which I form my questions, and search for answers.
Structure is necessary. Many times when I hear people spew venom about CHURCH HIERARCHY, I silently wonder, "Do you really want religion without some hierarchy? How do you propose to build community without some foundation."
We idolize democracy, yet, we must not confuse democracy in religion as being free of some hierarchy--some structure--on which to build a foundation for communion. We need some structure. We need leadership.
Many times in the 31 years I have been Catholic, I have heard differing views regarding the obligation to go to Mass. I confess, I do not have a perfect attendance record at Mass. Yet, when I hear people bemoan having to go to Mass with a heavy heart, I scream silently, "DO YOU KNOW WHAT IT IS LIKE NOT TO HAVE MASS TO GO TO?"
I confess, I have been very blessed in awesome worship communities. Save one parish, my mind has been fed, my spirit filled with joyous notes of music, and a wealth of people surrounding me as models of living what Christ taught--what Christ teaches--through the words spoken, and actions taken each Sunday at Mass.
I do not know where Pope Francis I will lead the Church. Where will he lead me through the life he lives? Where will I entrust myself to be led by him.
I am quite surprised by how excited I have felt about Pope Francis I. Never have I felt much, if any, investment in who the Pope in the distant place called the Vatican in Rome thousands of miles from me in St. Paul.
Some people I know are concerned--disappointed--by his conservative stances on issues such as same-sex marriage, and women's ordination, to name a few. I pray some day these issues will be given the heartfelt blessing of the Catholic Church they deserve.
For now, I shall work to advance what it means to be a progressive Catholic. For now, however contradictory it may seem, I invest myself--I celebrate--the opportunity to live the poverty of my body. When we hear, "the poor," or "poverty," immediately our minds go to economic poverty, or begging for food, clothing, and shelter. Is that the full meaning of poverty?
Pope Francis I, teach us the meaning of Poverty that we may embrace it, not run from it. Teach us to Listen through the vessel of Poverty.
My faith does not rest--does not depend upon--the stance of the Pope, or the state of the Vatican in the Catholic Church.
Raised as a Universalist, "church hierarchy" was not an issue. By its very nature, church hierarchy was nonexistent. Sometimes I feel out of step when I hear that phrase, because it is not a part of my spiritual heritage.
I am reticent to criticize the Universalist Church, more often referred to as the Unitarian Universalist Federation today. Rather, with all due respect, I want to speak as someone who understands the need to have church hierarchy of some form in order to have a rich spiritual heritage, which may be transmitted--communicated--from one generation to the next. The Universalist Church, as I was raised to call it, was a marvelous home for my parents. They did not find their needs to be met in the Catholic, or Episcopalian Churches of the 1940s. Later, the Congregationalist Church specific to their experience was a transition time for them. Later, with young children, the Universalist Church met their needs. From the Catholic, and Episcopalian Churches, my parents left the pageantry, not the basic Christian values of love and hope. Although "faith" was something understood to them as a trapping--a mindless trapping of the pageantry they sought to escape.
I came into their lives without the heritage of the Catholic or Episcopalian Churches--without the Christian tradition--to draw upon in my childhood. I was left to draw upon the Universalist Church tradition that worshipped the mind, the intellect, and reason, as the sole sources of answers to the big questions of life.
I value my mind, my intellect, and reason. However, the answers I sought, and the answers I seek exceed the purview of the mind, the intellect, and reason. Beyond words to explain--beyond any words, faith is my home in which I form my questions, and search for answers.
Structure is necessary. Many times when I hear people spew venom about CHURCH HIERARCHY, I silently wonder, "Do you really want religion without some hierarchy? How do you propose to build community without some foundation."
We idolize democracy, yet, we must not confuse democracy in religion as being free of some hierarchy--some structure--on which to build a foundation for communion. We need some structure. We need leadership.
Many times in the 31 years I have been Catholic, I have heard differing views regarding the obligation to go to Mass. I confess, I do not have a perfect attendance record at Mass. Yet, when I hear people bemoan having to go to Mass with a heavy heart, I scream silently, "DO YOU KNOW WHAT IT IS LIKE NOT TO HAVE MASS TO GO TO?"
I confess, I have been very blessed in awesome worship communities. Save one parish, my mind has been fed, my spirit filled with joyous notes of music, and a wealth of people surrounding me as models of living what Christ taught--what Christ teaches--through the words spoken, and actions taken each Sunday at Mass.
I do not know where Pope Francis I will lead the Church. Where will he lead me through the life he lives? Where will I entrust myself to be led by him.
I am quite surprised by how excited I have felt about Pope Francis I. Never have I felt much, if any, investment in who the Pope in the distant place called the Vatican in Rome thousands of miles from me in St. Paul.
Some people I know are concerned--disappointed--by his conservative stances on issues such as same-sex marriage, and women's ordination, to name a few. I pray some day these issues will be given the heartfelt blessing of the Catholic Church they deserve.
For now, I shall work to advance what it means to be a progressive Catholic. For now, however contradictory it may seem, I invest myself--I celebrate--the opportunity to live the poverty of my body. When we hear, "the poor," or "poverty," immediately our minds go to economic poverty, or begging for food, clothing, and shelter. Is that the full meaning of poverty?
Pope Francis I, teach us the meaning of Poverty that we may embrace it, not run from it. Teach us to Listen through the vessel of Poverty.
Saturday, August 25, 2012
Ohhhh...
In a time when dramatic events, and ghastly acts of inhumanity, few events, or milestones cause an audible response from me. I imagine I am not alone in that.
Just now, one such audible response was evoked. Neil Armstrong died at the age of 82. To people of a certain age, they remember where they were when they looked at the first black and white images of the moon. To people of a certain age, they remember where they were when they heard the iconic words, "One small step for man, one giant step for mankind."
I was in Brainerd on a family vacation. I was a sick nine-year-old, moaning with an earache--nothing serious, but, I remember.
Long before cable television. Long before personal computers, Neil Armstrong took us beyond boundaries of what we imagined possible.
How do we pay homage--meaningful homage--to Neil Armstrong?
First, stop. Take a look at, and return to The First Moon Landing with Neil Armstrong.
In homage to Neil Armstrong, are we willing to commit ourselves to one action?
Live our lives imagining a future beyond what seems possible to us now--beyond the limits imposed by our own cynicism and skepticism.
Challenge our friends, family--our society--to live beyond what they imagine might be possible.
Let us pay homage.
Just now, one such audible response was evoked. Neil Armstrong died at the age of 82. To people of a certain age, they remember where they were when they looked at the first black and white images of the moon. To people of a certain age, they remember where they were when they heard the iconic words, "One small step for man, one giant step for mankind."
I was in Brainerd on a family vacation. I was a sick nine-year-old, moaning with an earache--nothing serious, but, I remember.
Long before cable television. Long before personal computers, Neil Armstrong took us beyond boundaries of what we imagined possible.
How do we pay homage--meaningful homage--to Neil Armstrong?
First, stop. Take a look at, and return to The First Moon Landing with Neil Armstrong.
In homage to Neil Armstrong, are we willing to commit ourselves to one action?
Live our lives imagining a future beyond what seems possible to us now--beyond the limits imposed by our own cynicism and skepticism.
Challenge our friends, family--our society--to live beyond what they imagine might be possible.
Let us pay homage.
Sunday, June 10, 2012
Corpus Christi. Mystery. Corpus Christi.
Corpus Christi Sunday is celebrated in the Catholic Church today--the body and blood of Christ.
I feel truly blessed by the faith community I celebrate Mass with each Sunday. We are more than a physical structure....more than a scheduled time each week.....more than rote recitation of words....more than obedient people...more than repeated rituals shared each week....
We are faith-filled. We do celebrate. We do celebrate. We do celebrate Mass. We do gather each Sunday. We do have a physical structure where we meet each week. We do recite words we have heard many times. We strive to obey--our prayerful, communal conscience, if not always that which other deem worthy of obedience.
I confess. I am drawn most to the Word when I enter the experience of Mass. Throughout all aspects of my life, since I was a child, I felt most drawn to words. Today's celebration of Corpus Christi drew me beyond the words into the experience of the celebration. Words were the invitation to which I responded today.
"Lent is a time when we empty our guilt, so as to enter into the fullness of the celebration of Easter." Those were the homilist's words that spoke to my ears. Quickly, I grabbed my pen to capture that essence. All too familiar with the tipping of my mental wheelbarrow of short-term memory, my pen was the savior I sought. My pen is the tool I grasp hold of to nail moments of grace to my long-term memory.
Yet, in that moment, I was struck by the sin of squashing grace, or being so arrogant as to think I could preserve that moment for posterity. Putting my pen away, trusting that what I need to remember I will remember, freed me to be graced by so much more.
The four music ministers led us in singing liturgical music of celebration. Guitar. Piano. Drums. Four-part harmony. Many times, I have seen the faces, heard the words, and the music. Yet, this morning, I was graced with mystery. Hearing--truly hearing--the four different parts--soprano, alto, tenor, and bass--of the musicians led me to mystery of wonderment.
How is it that four individuals open their mouths and produce four different notes that produce such harmony? Science may explain it, yet, it does not explain the wonder of the moment--the mystery of the experience.
Spontaneous signing of Mass music by a woman, who lives with Asperger's Syndrome, was shown to my eyes. No hearing impairment. No rote recitation of words. A simple expression of the words coming to her ears. A personal response in tune with the singing voices of others.
I have served as a minister of Word--as a lector. I have served as a music minister, though both were many years ago. I have never served as a Eucharistic minister.
This morning, the choreography of the Eucharist--the celebration of our human tapestry of gifts--was given to me. I emptied myself of the words, and my eyes were opened to the diverse gifts of our faith community. Our individual gifts stream to the front of the sanctuary to the hands of our priest, and his ministers of bread and wine.
Corpus Christi. Mystery. Faith. Body. Blood. Grace. Word. Music. Corpus Christi.
I feel truly blessed by the faith community I celebrate Mass with each Sunday. We are more than a physical structure....more than a scheduled time each week.....more than rote recitation of words....more than obedient people...more than repeated rituals shared each week....
We are faith-filled. We do celebrate. We do celebrate. We do celebrate Mass. We do gather each Sunday. We do have a physical structure where we meet each week. We do recite words we have heard many times. We strive to obey--our prayerful, communal conscience, if not always that which other deem worthy of obedience.
I confess. I am drawn most to the Word when I enter the experience of Mass. Throughout all aspects of my life, since I was a child, I felt most drawn to words. Today's celebration of Corpus Christi drew me beyond the words into the experience of the celebration. Words were the invitation to which I responded today.
"Lent is a time when we empty our guilt, so as to enter into the fullness of the celebration of Easter." Those were the homilist's words that spoke to my ears. Quickly, I grabbed my pen to capture that essence. All too familiar with the tipping of my mental wheelbarrow of short-term memory, my pen was the savior I sought. My pen is the tool I grasp hold of to nail moments of grace to my long-term memory.
Yet, in that moment, I was struck by the sin of squashing grace, or being so arrogant as to think I could preserve that moment for posterity. Putting my pen away, trusting that what I need to remember I will remember, freed me to be graced by so much more.
The four music ministers led us in singing liturgical music of celebration. Guitar. Piano. Drums. Four-part harmony. Many times, I have seen the faces, heard the words, and the music. Yet, this morning, I was graced with mystery. Hearing--truly hearing--the four different parts--soprano, alto, tenor, and bass--of the musicians led me to mystery of wonderment.
How is it that four individuals open their mouths and produce four different notes that produce such harmony? Science may explain it, yet, it does not explain the wonder of the moment--the mystery of the experience.
Spontaneous signing of Mass music by a woman, who lives with Asperger's Syndrome, was shown to my eyes. No hearing impairment. No rote recitation of words. A simple expression of the words coming to her ears. A personal response in tune with the singing voices of others.
I have served as a minister of Word--as a lector. I have served as a music minister, though both were many years ago. I have never served as a Eucharistic minister.
This morning, the choreography of the Eucharist--the celebration of our human tapestry of gifts--was given to me. I emptied myself of the words, and my eyes were opened to the diverse gifts of our faith community. Our individual gifts stream to the front of the sanctuary to the hands of our priest, and his ministers of bread and wine.
Corpus Christi. Mystery. Faith. Body. Blood. Grace. Word. Music. Corpus Christi.
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Prayer...A Nascent Transformation...
The Hail Mary.
Shall we pray? Sister Immaculata proffered.
Hail Mary, full of grace.
The Lord is with thee.
Blessed art thou among women,
And, blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.
Holy Mary, Mother of God.
Pray for us,
Now, and at the hour of our death.
Amen.
Seat of wisdom, pray for us.
The prayer was a reverential invitation to understand words new to me. I was never sure whether the words were, "Seat of wisdom, pray for us," or, "Seed of wisdom, pray for us." Yet, somehow, that detail did not matter. Both Seat and Seed confirmed a nascent transformation yet to be lived.
Hail Mary, Full of Grace.
As inexplicable as the Hail Mary's beauty on my first hearing 30 years ago is its beauty today. Whenever an ambulance passes by me, the Hail Mary comes to my ears. I do not recite it at other times. Yet, at the moments of urgent need--the need of others--the Hail Mary is given to me to utter.
I have no Rosary beads. I do not know the Rosary. I do not pray the Rosary. Not by my judgment of its value. Rosary has been in my vocabulary for nary three decades. Maybe in seven more decades, I will know the Rosary. Maybe in seven decades I may pray the Rosary.
Others better versed than I could recite the precise chapter and verse. Yet, I have heard it said that we need not fear, when needs arise we shall be given the appropriate words to utter. Whether spoken aloud, or held in my heart, confidence is given, and fears assuaged. Blessed by and with a faith-filled worship community, and Christians who care deeply about the heart and soul--far more than structures they enter, no longer is prayer a formula I grab from off the rack. I cannot explain its shape--its form. Thirty years ago, a formula. Today, a precious mystery. Thirty years from now? A precious mystery to be lived, not feared.
Thursday, January 19, 2012
A Fulfilling Living
An amazing day. An amazing week.
January's ice box has moved into St. Paul today. Yet, the sun shines. Nary a cloud in the sky. Cold hard facts. I am warming to perfection.
Monday's moments?
Personal training. New swimming equipment identified. Noodles. Paddles. New exercises. A stronger right hand perhaps? Volunteering. Research. Pay dirt. Struck gold. Hit the jackpot.
Tuesday's treasures?
Catholic Church reform. A new council. The first of its kind. Supporting researcher. A witness to history that has yet to be made. An invitation--a special invitation. Do you want to share your story as part of a retreat on transition? Amazing.
Wednesday's wonders?
Twenty-one Council members. Twenty-one life stories. Twenty-one crafters of a more democratic Catholic Church. Wonder-filled. Awe-inspiring.
Thursday's triumph? The noodle--the white noodle. A hand clenched for a lifetime. Through no fault of her own, my hand clenched tightly nonetheless. Past efforts to open my clenched hand met with unwilling resistance from a stubborn soul. There was just no possibility of an Open Hand--Outstretched Fingers, a Strong Wrist with a Firm Grip.
An Open Hand. Outstretching Fingers. A Strengthening Wrist. A Firming Grip.
Amazing. Wonder-filled. Awe-inspiring. Simple to some. Amazing to me.
January's ice box has moved into St. Paul today. Yet, the sun shines. Nary a cloud in the sky. Cold hard facts. I am warming to perfection.
Monday's moments?
Personal training. New swimming equipment identified. Noodles. Paddles. New exercises. A stronger right hand perhaps? Volunteering. Research. Pay dirt. Struck gold. Hit the jackpot.
Tuesday's treasures?
Catholic Church reform. A new council. The first of its kind. Supporting researcher. A witness to history that has yet to be made. An invitation--a special invitation. Do you want to share your story as part of a retreat on transition? Amazing.
Wednesday's wonders?
Twenty-one Council members. Twenty-one life stories. Twenty-one crafters of a more democratic Catholic Church. Wonder-filled. Awe-inspiring.
Thursday's triumph? The noodle--the white noodle. A hand clenched for a lifetime. Through no fault of her own, my hand clenched tightly nonetheless. Past efforts to open my clenched hand met with unwilling resistance from a stubborn soul. There was just no possibility of an Open Hand--Outstretched Fingers, a Strong Wrist with a Firm Grip.
An Open Hand. Outstretching Fingers. A Strengthening Wrist. A Firming Grip.
Amazing. Wonder-filled. Awe-inspiring. Simple to some. Amazing to me.
Friday, January 13, 2012
Catholic Church Reform: What Is It?
Catholic Church reform. What is it? What should it be? Who decides? Who should decide?
What is it?
Hot button issues come to mind. Women's ordination. Married clergy. Liturgy--lay involvement. Liturgy--inclusive language.
These are valid, worthy issues central to Catholic Church reform. Yet, in defining what it should be, dangers need to be identified--dangers to effecting reform.
Herd mentality. Rote support of hot button issues. Rote support of advocates, who can speak the loudest.
I write cognizant of time's luxury, which long-term disability affords me. I write cognizant of my time's responsibility--God's time to me. I must not squander that precious time--that precious responsibility. Were I to squander, I would aggravate the problems--the issues--I sought to address.
Who decides?
"Church Hierarchy!" is the rallying cry of church reform campaigns. Yet, hierarchy, to some degree, is necessary for the advancement of any organization's issues. In the extreme, anarchy is hierarchy's adversary. Effective Catholic Church reform lies somewhere in the middle.
Catholic Church Reform. Who decides?
I know my place. I make no submissive cry to avoid responsibility. No. I know my place. I have been asked to help clarify issues. Research. Write drafts of recommendations. Listen. Heed direction of individuals who will make recommendations based in part upon my research. Revise. Rewrite. Submit. Listen.
I have tremendous respect for the knowledge, experience, convictions, and beliefs of the individuals I will work with. I pray that I will nurture and maintain that same level of respect of and for each individual I meet.
I pray that I will seek a broad understanding of the people, issues, organizations, and perspectives within the catholic church. I pray not to imprison myself within the popular positions on hot button issues just to do so. Already I sense myself doing just that.
Catholic Church Reform. What is it?
It is not for me to define in isolation. For now, I shall act as a squirrel might. I shall gather nuts--food for thought--for the work ahead--nuts that may sustain me. Websites. Blogs. Publications. These are but three of the nuts I gather for the exciting, daunting, scary, exhilarating, unknown journey ahead me--ahead of us.
What is it?
Hot button issues come to mind. Women's ordination. Married clergy. Liturgy--lay involvement. Liturgy--inclusive language.
These are valid, worthy issues central to Catholic Church reform. Yet, in defining what it should be, dangers need to be identified--dangers to effecting reform.
Herd mentality. Rote support of hot button issues. Rote support of advocates, who can speak the loudest.
I write cognizant of time's luxury, which long-term disability affords me. I write cognizant of my time's responsibility--God's time to me. I must not squander that precious time--that precious responsibility. Were I to squander, I would aggravate the problems--the issues--I sought to address.
Who decides?
"Church Hierarchy!" is the rallying cry of church reform campaigns. Yet, hierarchy, to some degree, is necessary for the advancement of any organization's issues. In the extreme, anarchy is hierarchy's adversary. Effective Catholic Church reform lies somewhere in the middle.
Catholic Church Reform. Who decides?
I know my place. I make no submissive cry to avoid responsibility. No. I know my place. I have been asked to help clarify issues. Research. Write drafts of recommendations. Listen. Heed direction of individuals who will make recommendations based in part upon my research. Revise. Rewrite. Submit. Listen.
I have tremendous respect for the knowledge, experience, convictions, and beliefs of the individuals I will work with. I pray that I will nurture and maintain that same level of respect of and for each individual I meet.
I pray that I will seek a broad understanding of the people, issues, organizations, and perspectives within the catholic church. I pray not to imprison myself within the popular positions on hot button issues just to do so. Already I sense myself doing just that.
Catholic Church Reform. What is it?
It is not for me to define in isolation. For now, I shall act as a squirrel might. I shall gather nuts--food for thought--for the work ahead--nuts that may sustain me. Websites. Blogs. Publications. These are but three of the nuts I gather for the exciting, daunting, scary, exhilarating, unknown journey ahead me--ahead of us.
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Brain Damage
I have brain damage. I am not brain-damaged. I am not damaged goods. I am not--I never will be--damaged goods.
Brain damage. Since birth. At birth.
The doctors to Dad.
We almost lost her. We almost lost both of them. Your daughter's umbilical cord was wrapped around her neck five times. The oxygen supply to the left side of your daughter's brain was cut off for several seconds. The left side of her brain controls the right side of her body.
The doctors to Dad.
We don't know if she will ever learn to walk or talk.
[I have walked. I do talk.]
How do you hear that and not fall to your knees in awe? How do you hear that, and not be rendered utterly speechless?
Brain damage. Since birth. At birth.
The doctors to Dad.
We almost lost her. We almost lost both of them. Your daughter's umbilical cord was wrapped around her neck five times. The oxygen supply to the left side of your daughter's brain was cut off for several seconds. The left side of her brain controls the right side of her body.
The doctors to Dad.
We don't know if she will ever learn to walk or talk.
[I have walked. I do talk.]
How do you hear that and not fall to your knees in awe? How do you hear that, and not be rendered utterly speechless?
Friday, December 2, 2011
Fear of the Lord???
The fear of the Lord is the beginning of Wisdom. ...The fear which is the first
step to wisdom is the fear of being untrue to God and to ourselves. It is the
fear that we have lied to ourselves, that we have thrown down our lives at the
feet of a false god.
Thomas Merton. Thoughts in Solitude. (New York: Farrar, Strauss, Giroux): 73
Fear??? I understand a deep sense of awe that, if honored, paralyzes any impulse, on my part, to act unwisely. I understand the deepest of tragedies that emerges when we lie to ourselves--"when we have thrown down our lives at the feet of a false god."
Yet, I cannot reconcile fear with any motivation I might have to act in wisdom. I am not motivated to seek wisdom in the sense of fear that resides in the pit of my stomach.
Is my understanding of fear inconsistent with its common definition--with its derivation? Questions of word derivation lead me to the convenient knowledge the Online Etymology Dictionary affords me. Here is the entry given for fear:
Fear (v.) O.E. faeran "terrify, frighten," originally transitive (sense preserved in archaic I fear me). Meaning "feel fear" is 14 c. Cognate with O.S. faron "to lie in wait," M.Du. vaeren "to fear," O.H.G. faren "to plot against," O.N. faera "to taunt."
Awe, perhaps? Am I shirking moral responsibility, if I opt to live in awe in the stead of living in fear? The Online Etymology Dictionary offers the following offers the following derivation of awe.
c.1300, earlier aghe, c.1200 from a Scandinavian source, cf. O.N. agi "fright," from P.Gmc. *agiz (cf. O.E. ege "fear," O.H.G. agiso "fright, terror" Goth. agis "fear, anguish," from PIE *agh-es- (cf. Gk. akhos "pain, grief"), from base "agh-" "to be depressed, be afraid"...
The overlap between fear and awe surprises me. The sun setting in the northwest sky outside of my home is the best summation of awe that I know.
I have been blessed to touch--to feel--the texture of awe. There is a depth to pain, to grief, and to anguish that calls for growth. I do not seek out pain, grief, or anguish, for its own sake. Yet, when it comes knocking, I must come to the door. I must answer the call.
Yet, for now, I do not know any more than when I first read the passage from Thomas Merton. How do I advocate for my belief, if I cannot articulate it more clearly? I fear I do not know.
Thomas Merton. Thoughts in Solitude. (New York: Farrar, Strauss, Giroux): 73
Fear??? I understand a deep sense of awe that, if honored, paralyzes any impulse, on my part, to act unwisely. I understand the deepest of tragedies that emerges when we lie to ourselves--"when we have thrown down our lives at the feet of a false god."
Yet, I cannot reconcile fear with any motivation I might have to act in wisdom. I am not motivated to seek wisdom in the sense of fear that resides in the pit of my stomach.
Is my understanding of fear inconsistent with its common definition--with its derivation? Questions of word derivation lead me to the convenient knowledge the Online Etymology Dictionary affords me. Here is the entry given for fear:
Fear (v.) O.E. faeran "terrify, frighten," originally transitive (sense preserved in archaic I fear me). Meaning "feel fear" is 14 c. Cognate with O.S. faron "to lie in wait," M.Du. vaeren "to fear," O.H.G. faren "to plot against," O.N. faera "to taunt."
Awe, perhaps? Am I shirking moral responsibility, if I opt to live in awe in the stead of living in fear? The Online Etymology Dictionary offers the following offers the following derivation of awe.
c.1300, earlier aghe, c.1200 from a Scandinavian source, cf. O.N. agi "fright," from P.Gmc. *agiz (cf. O.E. ege "fear," O.H.G. agiso "fright, terror" Goth. agis "fear, anguish," from PIE *agh-es- (cf. Gk. akhos "pain, grief"), from base "agh-" "to be depressed, be afraid"...
The overlap between fear and awe surprises me. The sun setting in the northwest sky outside of my home is the best summation of awe that I know.
I have been blessed to touch--to feel--the texture of awe. There is a depth to pain, to grief, and to anguish that calls for growth. I do not seek out pain, grief, or anguish, for its own sake. Yet, when it comes knocking, I must come to the door. I must answer the call.
Yet, for now, I do not know any more than when I first read the passage from Thomas Merton. How do I advocate for my belief, if I cannot articulate it more clearly? I fear I do not know.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)