Antibullying and Religious Freedom

     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.

The Spirit of Accountability

     Last night, I tuned into a newscaster new to my ears.  Recommended by someone close to me, I was in search of new insight regarding disturbing broad generalizations made in the political arena.
     I knew my general view of the generalizations--generalizations about the 47%.  Yet, I wanted to be enlightened--dissuaded from my outrage.
     In general terms, the newscaster affirmed me--my stance regarding the 47%.  However, I was turned off, literally, by one simple word.
     "Idiots."
    Describing individuals with an opposing views as "idiots" is beyond my threshold for tolerance.  Name-calling does not give the necessary credence to any opinion, belief, or perspective.  I abhor name-calling.  I abhor it.
    Whenever challenged by beliefs, or opinions contrary to my own, I seek insight--I seek enlightenment.
    I hold decision-makers, and journalists in high esteem.  Hyperbole and sensationalism are excessive for my taste.  Yet, I will not lower my standards--my expectations--because of the lowest common denominator too often displayed.
    I am the daughter of a retired accountant.  Though retired, my father's value of being accountable remains strong--in him, and in me.  Far beyond financial accountability, forever in my memory, he has worked to advance adherence to ethical standards--professional ethics, and basic, human ethics.
    During 2012, I have been immersed in Catholic Church reform work.  Ethics--accountability--of words and actions is primary.
    Some may say I take too personally what is uttered in public.  I do not hold myself out to be injured by words spoken, or actions taken.  Yet, I must--I am called to--take personally the words of political candidates, and journalists.  Can you tell me, what am I too offer, why am I here, if not to offer my personal experience to my words, and my actions?  Why?
    I will not tolerate the broad strokes of 47%.  I will not abide by "idiots" in public discourse.
    Though other issues, and factors lead me to vote otherwise, I hoped the Republican nominee for President might listen to his wife's words--to his wife's life experience.  Interviewed during the Republican National Convention, Ann Romney spoke of living with multiple sclerosis.  She said:
    "You don't know, 'how much is it gonna chew me up and spit me out? ... How sick am I gonna get? Is this going to be progressive? Am I going to be in a wheelchair? Am I, you know, gonna lose all function?
     There's this huge unknown. And it's a very, very frightening place to be.' "
     Ann's words stick with me.  The newscaster's words stick with me--his characterization of his political opponents, "idiots."

     Where is the accountability?  Where is the spirit of accountable--to Ann, to the 47%, to journalistic seekers of truth, and enlightenment?  Where?

     Living by anything short of a spirit of accountability is sheer cowardice--sheer cowardice.

Prayer...It Makes No Sense to Me...

      On April 25, 1982, had you asked me, "what does prayer mean to you," I would have said, "Lord Make Me an Instrument of Thy Peace," "The Hail Mary,"  and "Peace be with You." 
     Formulated.  Off the Rack prayers ready for those wanting to wear religion on their sleeve.
     Not quite.  I had--I have--a deep love for each of those prayers.
     Without knowing his name, The Prayer of St. Francis, St. Francis was introduced to me by a Christian choir director in junior high school--in a public school, no less, much to the chagrin of my parents.  A Christian--not a Catholic--choir director.
     Lord, make me an instrument of thy peace.
     Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
     Where there is injury, pardon;
     Where there is doubt, faith;
     Where there is despair, hope;
     Where there is darkness, light;
      And, where there is sadness, joy;
      Grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled, as to console.
      To be understood as to understand.
      To be loved, as to love.
      For it is in the giving that we receive.
      In the pardoning that we are pardoned.
     And, it is in the dying,
     That we are born to eternal life.
     My maternal grandfather--Ray, a man who abhorred anything Catholic--would be horrified to hear me say so, yet, his inheritance to me, "Don't feel sad when I die, I have made amends with everyone [with whom] I had differences," reaffirmed what St. Francis told me.
      Prayer.
      It makes no sense to me.  Words that speak such truth.  Words--it is in the dying that we are born to eternal life--far from affirmed in my childhood home, in my family--speak such truth to me.  It makes no sense.  Yet, they are true.

Crucifixion...Resurrection....

     May the peace of Christ be with you.
     It took me many years to utter those words without fear of crucifixion--crucifixion impaled by reason, and logic, crucifixion beyond any hope of faith to surmount.
     I was surrounded by the living of values Christ proclaimed.  Yet, that was not enough.
     There was an invisible stereotype that permeated our home.  Bible-thumping Baptist.  Evangelical.  Unwilling missionary work--infliction of conversion within our house.  Speaking of tongues.  The Holy Ghost--a white-sheeted being antithetical to reason and logic.
     I was surrounded by the living of the values Christ espoused.
     Yet, it took many years to shed my fear of crucifixion--crucifixion impaled by reason, and logic.  Resurrection.  How can you possibly reconcile that with any degree of reason, or logic?  How can you possibly live with any integrity, if you subscribe to the notion of resurrection?  How can you explain resurrection?
      Complicated, yet, simple--not simplistic, but, simple.  I cannot explain the resurrection of a body in logic's tomb.
      I was given a body beyond reason and logic to explain--to reconcile.  No reason--no logic--satisfied those who met my body to understand it--to understand me.
     May the Peace of Christ be with You.  The Prayer of St. Francis.  The Hail Mary.  These three prayers ground me.  Far beyond the words to convey, I had no hope of avoiding a mystery beyond reason, and logic to explain.
     Others better versed than I in the Bible 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 has been given, and fears have been assuaged.  Blessed by and with a faith-filled worship community, and Christians who care about 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?
    Crucifixion.  Resurrection.  I cannot explain it.
    But...I can--I must--live it.  We can--we must live it.

Driven to a Healthy Pondering

     The U.S. Supreme Court is hearing arguments regarding the 2010 Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act.  Some call it, "Obamacare."  I cannot--I will not--stoop to that level.
     I have simple questions.  Health insurance.  Auto insurance.
     Tell me.  Drivers must purchase automobile insurance in order to drive an automobile.  Is that correct?
     I am not a licensed automobile driver.  I want to ensure my facts are correct.  If my statements are not correct, I welcome being corrected.  The truth is more important than my ego.
     I have simple questions.  Auto insurance.  Health insurance.
     Much ado is being made regarding the personal mandate portion of the act--the requirement that everyone purchase health insurance.  I confess.  I have stopped listening.  My mental well-being is more important than my civic responsibility to be an informed voter.  Listening to every last argument regarding an issue is no longer my definition of what it means to be a good citizen.
     Tell me.  Is there a parallel to be drawn between the requirement to purchase auto insurance, and the personal mandate requirement that every individual purchase health insurance?
     Tell me.  Is the purpose of auto insurance to provide financial remuneration, and protection to automobile  drivers in the case of an accident?
     Tell me.  Why is no one raising these questions?
     Tell me.  Why is no one offering this parallel in defense of the personal mandate case?
     Tell me.  Why is hyperbole valued more than reason, logic, calm, and integrity?
     Tell me.  When will it be safe to listen without fear of hyperbole hijacking reason?
     Tell me.  Is there a parallel to be drawn between the requirement to purchase auto insurance, and the personal mandate to purchase health insurance?
     Tell me.  Do I understand the basic premise of auto insurance?
     Tell me.  Is there a parallel to be drawn between auto insurance and the personal mandate to buy health insurance?
     Tell me.  I am listening.  Tell me.

PeaceNext...Intimate...Self-Disclosure...

     During the 1960s, long before the advent of the World Wide Web, and social media, my parents involved our family in a foreign exchange program of social workers--the Twin Cities International Program--TCIP.  Mom and Dad served as a host family to Knut from Denmark, Ilsa from Austria, Jun Bok from South Korea, and a man, whose name I believe was Daniel.  These three  men and one woman stayed with us during four years before I was ten.  Knut seemed old to me, although he was probably 50:) Mature may be a more apt description than old.  He was tall with balding light brown hair.   I remember he gave me a book of Hans Christian Anderson's fairy tales.  I think Mom and Dad still have the book.  It has been many years since I have read the book.  It is fairly small book with an ivory cover, and a picture on the front cover.  Then there was Ilsa.  Her father carved wood.  Mom and Dad still have a shallow wooden plate with the names of my parents, my brother, sister, and me, carved around the edge.  My parents have it mounted on the wall at the top of the bookshelves in their library.  I can think of no more treasured symbol of our family.  I do not remember much about Daniel, other than that he was from Italy.  Jun Bok.  Ah yes, Jun Bok.  He was a borderline operator--definitely a character.  He gave my parents at least one bottle of tabasco sauce.  More memorable was his observation of my dad trying to assemble a new Weber grill.  Dad  was having the difficulty inherent to any item with the instructions, "Some assembly required."  After watching Dad struggle for quite some time, Jun Bok said, "American technology.  Nothing works."  Jun Bok returned to South Korea many years ago.  I do not know what has happened to him.  Yet his words live on in my memory.
     Each of the individuals we hosted, in addition to individuals from all around the world--not just Europe and Asia--who visited our home and attended a number of pool parties my parents hosted broadened my childhood horizons.  Although I have not kept up with any of the individuals--a sad reality of life--I do bring from that experience openness to, and individuals from other countries.
    I treasure the perspectives I have been given when I have spent time with individuals from other countries while at home, or when I have visited other countries.  I will always remember with great fondness the conversations I had with a number of individuals from Norway while I spent nine days as a graduate school course.  The  Norwegians I met apologized to me  for their poor English speaking skills.  Such was not the case.  My understanding of Norwegian was rudimentary at best.  Yet, my love of the country--the fjords, the brisk air--is difficult to describe.
    Now I find my connections to individuals in other countries through the World Wide Web--through e-mail, and social media.  A skeptical eye is given to  social media.  I would warn against brandishing all social media outlets on the basis of how some individuals on some sites choose to use the sites.
    PeaceNext.  I am an incorrigible pacifist.  Some say pacifist is synonymous with weakness, in a pejorative sense.  I beg to differ.  My interest in ecumenism led me to the PeaceNext website.  The subtitle following the "PeaceNext" website title says, "Council for a Parliament of World Religions."
    How, as someone raised to believe that there is good to be found in all world religions, could I pass up the opportunity to explore a network committed to integrity in nurturing constructive dialogue.  Slowly I find myself open to friendship from around the world.
    Some hesitate to engage in online networks of any form due to concerns for security, or personal disclosure.  Others hesitate to engage in discussions of religion--it is too personal.  Well....On one level--on an intellectual level--I understand.  I respect the right of other individuals to not so engage.
   Yet....yet....I cannot follow suit.  It was not until this moment that I understood why.  I am not a Bible-thumping woman on the street corner trying to force beliefs down people's throats.  I try to be more subtle than that.
    Long before I understood the intellectual nuances--the spiritual dimension--of engaging in social communities rooted in integrity, such as PeaceNext, I was confronted with the reality of bodily engagement.  Not physical combat.  No.  Misunderstanding of my bent right arm, and my limping right leg led my peers to tease me.  Kids mimicking my bent right wrist of my face was, "Palsy Patty."  I was called to make myself understood--to make myself palatable in the eyes of people who met me.
    No one may endanger me.  My exterior is deceiving.  As my sister says of me, "I don't worry about Patty out on the streets, I worry about the people who encounter her."
     My life calls me to unequivocal self-disclosure.  If I do not share of myself--if I do not reach out to other people-what am I living to do?  I am called to find opportunities, such as PeaceNext, and other in-person, and online forums for the sharing of diverse perspectives dedicated to deeper understanding, and transformation.

Free Speech and Name-Calling

     Just now, someone commented on the burning of the Koran.  Evidently, on April 18, 2011, Andrew Ryan--a former English soldier--was sentenced to 70 days in jail for burning the Koran.  The commentator said that he understood, and defended the right of free speech, yet, something to effect that this idiot needed to be stopped from his action of burning the Koran.
     I do believe in the freedom of religion.  As a citizen of the United States, I did not face any action from the American government--state, federal, or local--when I changed my religious affiliation from Universalism/Unitarianism to Christianity.  When I joined the Catholic Church, I did not fear any adverse action from the government.  Concerns I had with regard to my actions--my affirmations--related to individuals, not to the government of my native land.
     I do believe in freedom of speech.  I am enriched by sharing ideas with people, whose ideas differ from my own.  If we are open to being enlightened, both of us will grow from the free exchange of ideas.  I am a native-born U.S. citizen.  I have never been faced with the choice of affirming my allegiance to a country external to my birth.  So, in some ways, I feel less qualified to speak as someone who appreciates fully the right to speak freely--to speak freely without suffering retribution from my government.  Technology is a partner with freedom of speech that makes this blog, and many other blogs viable forms of expression.  I do appreciate that opportunity.  No, it is a guilty pleasure:)
     Yet, as strong as my commitment is, I cannot reconcile the acceptability of name-calling.  I abhor it.  No amount of commitment to free religious belief, or free speech gives license to any name-calling.  It just doesn't.   Whether the name-calling be done to the face of the individual or group being targeted, neither is acceptable.  Neither form of name-calling is moral, just, ethical, or humane.  Many people refer to respect for life, and never consider name-calling to be subject to standards of human decency.   I am a very open-minded, reasonable, and rational individual.  I am open to compromise on most everything else.  Yet, name-calling is not open to compromise.   If I arrive at the precipice of name-calling, then I am being called to make amends with the soon-to-be target of any name-calling.
     If I were to resort to name-calling, then I would be missing the opportunity to transform my venom into passionate advocacy for an issue or individual being denigrated.  I cannot commit myself to name-calling.  I cannot avoid opportunities to serve as an advocate.

Honesty. Humility. Integrity.

     Personal indignation and corporate humility intersected today.
     I believe firmly that experiences I share in my writing are by no means my sole province.  My hope is to illuminate what is common within us, that we might be comfortable to explore what we have been unknown to us, or too threatening to confront.  I use the pronoun we intentionally.  When I begin writing any post to this blog, I do not know what my conclusion will be.  What I do know is that I am called to be reflective.  I endeavor to heed that call with a keen ear--I listen for unresolved issues.
    Today I told the medical vendor I have been working with for three and a half months that he WOULD tell me the delivery time of my wheelchair within the next 24 hours.  I was not saying that I wanted to know when the delivery time would be.  As uncharacteristic as it is of me, I did not equivocate.  I declared my needs.  My threshold for delay had been surpassed.  My patience for a wheelchair was spent.  My heart raced.  Yet, my ankle received her due advocacy today.
     I am a peaceful person.  I live my days in reason, logic, and compassion.   Often, I put on a happy face on less than happy realities.  Some of my happy face is important to a positive outlook--mental health.  Yet, when I overdue happy face, I deserve the moniker given to many in the State of Minnesota, where I live.  Overdone happy face makes me eligible for Minnesota Nice.
    Today's events--today's interactions--were as far from Minnesota Nice as I get.  Within four hours of my first phone call with the medical vendor, I had two messages from him confirming that delivery will take place tomorrow.  As uncustomary as my assertions were, I achieved my goal.
     I learned about corporate humility today.  The medical manufacturer is sending a letter of apology to the vendor for all of the mixups--the omission of a joystick on my wheelchair.  I do not know that I can take any credit for inspiring the corporate letter of apology.  Without having too inflated a sense of myself, I did convey on numerous occasions the seriousness of my need.
    I well may never know the precise contribution I may have had in the communications regarding the acquisition of my wheelchair.  None of us may know the precise contribution we make in our daily communications.  Yet, what we can control is to communicate with integrity.  We must communicate our needs honestly--without exaggeration of content.  We must not affirm our needs with increased decibel levels.    The higher the decibel level of our speech, the more likely it is that our affirmations are false.
     May each of us, and all of us speak with honesty, humility, and integrity.  May we ever be cognizant of the fragility of making amends within our daily lives.
     This is easy to say.  I know that whatever the degree of commitment to these beliefs, I will fall short of sustaining them.

Understanding's--Compassion's---Scope

     The wait for a wheelchair continues.  Work with the vendor of the wheelchair, and the insurance company advocate continues.  The need is unrelenting.  The work seems without end--without a tangible result.
     I am a reasonable, logical, peaceful woman.  I am not comfortable being aggressive in stating my proven needs--my proven need.
     Friends, family, and acquaintances recognize my need, and offer the compassion ever so helpful as I strive toward my goal--a wheelchair.  I never imagined--I resisted--my need for a wheelchair.  Time, and my ankle convince me otherwise.
     I try to draw on my natural tendencies to achieve my goal--a wheelchair.  Logical.  I identified the steps necessary to secure a wheelchair.  An accounting of my physical symptoms, and capacities, a doctor's mobility assessment, an insurance company advocate, a medical vendor acceptable to the insurance company.
     Reasonable.  I listened to the doctor's recommendations.  I spoke with the insurance company advocate.  I visited the medical vendor.  I tried wheelchairs likely to meet my needs.  I maintained constant contact with the advocate, and the medical vendor.
     Aggressiveness expresses itself in cries of desperation from me.  Threats to change vendors.  Yet, aggressiveness, and threats help no one.
      Working to secure a wheelchair in the last three-and-a-half months lead me back to a lifelong question.  First, is it reasonable to expect that another human being may understand basic human needs, and life circumstances that may not be their own?  Second, is it true that no one may understand my/our human needs, because my/our life circumstances are not theirs?
     I am either a foolish optimist, or an optimistic fool.  Maybe both.  I hate to think that none of us may understand the basic human needs of another person, or persons, because our life circumstances are different--are not identical.
    Is it possible to surmount seeming indifference to those basic human needs?  If so, how?
    My default has been that indifference is surmountable.  I begin with logical appeals.  I resort to emotional appeals.  I seek support, and reinforcement to identify, and pursue other courses of action.
    Then, I wonder.  If my need is not enough--if the need/needs of the individuals for whom I am advocating are not enough--then, how can I appeal to the self-interests of the indifferent party?
    I am far beyond angry.   I am exasperated.  I am exhausted.  I am depressed.  Yet, none of these strategies, insights, or feelings has rendered a wheelchair.  Anger, exasperation, exhaustion, depression serve no one.  They are not effective conveyors of my emotions to the people who seem to have the resources to meet my needs.
    I wonder about the appearance of my need.  I am extremely grateful to be able to navigate my condominium.  So, to anyone who observes me navigate just short distances, they would surmise that my need does not rise to their requisite threshold.  Yet, anyone who has known me for any length of time--before I stopped working in 2009--they would know that I do not whine.  I do not pull the pity card--the victim's vengeance--in my daily dealings.
    How do I communicate the need that exceeds my immediate home environment?  How do I communicate that my need in a dignified manner?  Does pity need to be the weapon I must use to get my needs met?  I am no victim--by nature, I am no victim.  Yet, indifference is victimizing me unnecessarily.

Reluctant Disgust

    Walter Cronkite and Eric Sevareid were nightly duties to attend to--a half an hour interlude from the chaos of a family of five.  You did not dare talk during Eric Sevareid's reflections on current affairs.  Listening to the news was as important to being a citizen as was voting.
     Much has changed in 40 years.  The Cold War has ended.  The Vietnam War is history.  The Apollo missions into outer space ended, and now NASA'S Space Shuttle program is coming to a close.  Eric Sevareid's voice has been silenced.  Walter Cronkite's "And that's the way it is," no longer is the way it is.
     Some call it hyperbole.  National security "experts" call it chatter.  Whatever the public venue, reflection, and thoughtful deliberation seem extinct.
     Where are the reasonable voices?  Issues abound.  Yet, the chatter--the political hyperbole--has drowned out the time for quiet meditation.
     Technology need not be the villain.  Moderation.  Selectivity.  Alternative news sources.  Proven integrity.  No enemies exist--no villains await infliction of violence--unless we certify them with our gullible trust.
      Debate about the federal and state budgets is woefully lacking in thoughtful, conversant discourse.  I am grateful that the health care debate has ended.  I fear the much-needed discussion of Medicare.  Both are too close to my past and future realities.
      I fear I am losing, if not already lost, a principled, spirited expression of citizenship.  I fear I have stopped listening.  I do turn off coverage of current affairs that disintegrate into a verbal free-for-all.
      Have my convictions narrowed?  My willingness to stand up for my beliefs disappeared?  I fear my beliefs have been stripped to one.  I am not a violent person.  Yet, during the health care debate, I wanted to throttle those who incited hyperbole, and fertilized a futile free-for-all.
      I want to send an open letters to all decision-makers--to all citizens, with a very simple message:
      We have no guarantee that we will wake up tomorrow with the same capacities--mental, or physical--that we have when we go to bed tonight.  Our decisions must be rooted in that appreciation.

Intuition. Action. Transformation.

     Often, we speak of following our intuition.  Sometimes, it relates to people. Sometimes, it relates to a situation in which we find ourselves.  Most often, our spoken words are voiced in hindsight, "I should have followed my intuition."  Such hindsight speaks of an omen that we believe we should have anticipated, and on which we should have acted.
     Hindsight is useless self-torture.  Hindsight may not be the starting point from which we derive our actions for the future.  We are not disciplined to learn the lessons that might otherwise flow from it, if given the opportunity.
     Intuition.
     Intuition must be our starting point.  Disciplined, keen intuition.  We must discipline ourselves to listen to what we intuit--to what we "perceive without reasoning."  To intuit is not to disregard--not to forego--reasoning.  To intuit is the starting point to listen to other people without judgment.  Intuition is the child of to intuit. Only after we have intuited, may we receive an intuition--a keen and quick insight, as it is defined.
    Trust.
     In order to act upon intuitions we are given, we must trust. First, we must trust ourselves.  Trust is the preparation we are given to attune ourselves--our ears and our actions--to any force outside ourselves.  Trust requires discipline.  We must trust ourselves before we place our trust in anyone else.  We may not--we will not--act with trustworthiness always.  However, we must believe that we are trustworthy.  We must believe that we have been given the requisite capacity to act as trustworthy individuals, if we may having any hope of doing so.
     But, we must exceed ourselves in our will to trust.  How do we achieve that aspiration?
     Listen.
     Whom should I listen to?  What do I hear?  Whom do I hear?  Do I hear my voice?
     Cynicism breeds inaction.  Inaction breeds cowardice.
     Reason.
     Action without reason lacks integrity.  Action without intuition lacks the requisite passion to withstand cynical cowardice.
    Only after intuiting, receiving an intuition, trusting, and listening should we even consider acting. 
    Daily living, world events, and current affairs lead me to these convictions.  Now to transform convictions into actions.  That is uncharted territory in my book.  I pray for such trans-formations--for me, for each of us..