The Spirituality of Advent, Day 7, Week 1

I was originally going to write a mostly reflective piece looking back at what I had written during the first six days of the first week of Advent.  However, yesterday I stumbled upon a quote from Pope Benedict that I think is quite interesting:

To have Christian hope means to know about evil and yet to go to meet the future with confidence. The core of faith rests upon accepting being loved by God, and therefore to believe is to say Yes, not only to him, but to creation, to creatures, above all, to men, to try to see the image of God in each person and thereby to become a lover. That's not easy, but the basic Yes, the conviction that God has created men, that he stands behind them, that they aren't simply negative, gives love a reference point that enables it to ground hope on the basis of faith.

Even for readers who do not share my faith in God, I think this is a powerful set of ideas.  Hope means that despite all I know is wrong with the world--whether I am thinking about the world as a whole or my little piece of the world--I go forward with confidence.  Not only do I meet the future with confidence, but I meet each and every day with confidence.  I start the morning with confidence.  I parent with confidence.  I go to work with confidence.  I even run with confidence.  Everything is done with confidence.

Saying Yes to a higher power is saying Yes to creation.  Yes means engaging with.  Yes means interacting with.  Yes means love not in the sense of romantic love but love in a sense of a basic caring for others.   A love of humanity.  A love of nature.  A love of the world.  A caring for the world.  A realization that there is a role of stewardship for the world.  

And it fascinates me that Pope Benedict used the expression of saying "Yes".  Because in my last set of reflections (40 Days to Better that began on September 1 and continued until the Baltimore running festival), I commented many times on the book The Answer to How is Yes.  I never would have guessed that Pope Benedict and an author of a book on management would have used the same phrasing.  That, no matter what the question, the answer is to do.  The answer is to achieve.  The answer is to move forward.  The answer is to choose what is most important and to act.

What Pope Benedict might have thought guides those decisions and what Peter Block thinks guides those decisions may be substantially different.  But from whatever world view, from whatever view of a higher power, from whatever view that motivates morality, the key here is that hope means believing in an intrinsic good of the human spirit, giving people the benefit of the doubt, and moving forward to make the world a better place despite the odds.  

I know that I have been blessed not to have the odds stacked against me too much in my life.  But believing that I can help to do something to make the world a better place for someone despite the odds is so me.  

The Spirituality of Advent, Day 6, Week 1

Today will be a short entry.

Many people have asked about taking the job that I have now.  I have called it being optimistic.  After this week, I may call it hope.

Hope that I can make a difference.

Hope that the school for which I am now a vice dean will improve.

Hope that I will be able to work with people.

Hope that students will get a good education.  And hope that my efforts will improve the prospects of that occurring.

Hope that I will maintain a good balance in my life.

Hope that I will succeed.

Hope that the school will succeed.

Hope for good mentorship.

Hope to be a good mentor.

The list goes on and on.  What has made an impression on numerous people around me is that I bring that hope to work each and every day.

I don't usually seem down.  I always seem hopeful.

I think that the hopefulness goes along with running.  Not that team sports involve any less hope, but when it comes to running, I am in control of my own destiny.  Completely.  I hope for a good run.  I hope to run faster than I did last race.  I hope to reach the finish line.  I hope not to trip.  There are many things I hope for.

Bringing the hope and demonstrating the hope and "being" the hope is not something that is necessarily infectious for everyone around me.

But people notice.

Pope Benedict said "One who has hope lives differently."

I am pretty sure he meant his definition of Christian hope, which I will comment on tomorrow as my last entry of the week.

But I say, regardless of where the hope comes from, if a person leads a life full of hope, others around will notice.  Others will be at least more likely to see a reason to hope.  Others will be more likely to find a way to hope.  Others will be more likely to believe there is something to be hopeful for.  

And perhaps the world will be a better place in some little way for as least one other person because I took the time to be hopeful and share that hope with others.  

The Spirituality of Advent, Day 5, Week 1

This week of focusing on hope has also been focused on mortality.  This is a very interesting pair.  Although in the church, it is not a pair that is surely an oxymoron.  Mortality brings hope for resurrection for those who believe in such things.  

The experience of mortality can take multiple formats.  Mortality can be experienced as just knowing that someone passed away.  Mortality can also be experienced as a funeral with all the emotions that brings.  

Listening to the readings and the music on Monday made me ponder--if I had a choice, which readings and songs would I want to be chosen to represent me.

The readings are somewhat easy.  I would go with the reading from Ecclesiastes that Sherry and I had at our wedding.  Not because I associate the wedding with death, of course.  But because it is timeless and it matches well with one of the songs that was sung at the funeral mass on Monday: Ecclesiastes 3:1-8.  

The Psalm, also easy.  Psalm 23--the Lord is my shepherd, there is nothing I shall want.  In any of its many forms either spoken or musical.  

The second reading--focusing on hope, as well as faith, and most importantly love--1 Corinthians, 13:1-13.  This ends with the verse that started me writing my personal blog.

Finally, the Gospel would be an interesting choice.  I'd actually go with Luke 23:33-43.  Not because I think that the focus on death would be the right thing.  But because of Jesus's forgiveness no matter what the soldiers did and because of the criminal who asked Jesus, "remember me, when you come into your kingdom."  I like the focus on God's kingdom.  And I like Jesus's response.  As Father Sam once pointed out, the criminal is the only one Jesus actually told he would be brought into heaven.

Songs: Amazing Grace, Be Not Afraid, something with Psalm 23, Take My Hand Precious Lord, Take Me Home.  All easy.  All typical.  I'd really have nothing to add on this one.

If there were a communion meditation song that was potentially non-religious, also a theme from Sherry's and my wedding--"Don't Know Much."    Maybe most would see it as a throw back to a "sappy" 1980's love song.  However, I would see it as a song of hope.  There may be many things I don't know.  But I would hope that everyone who showed up at the funeral would be someone to whom I had shown love.  I would hope that everyone who showed up at the funeral would be someone who felt love for me.  Love in a broad, general, friendly sense, of course.  

The key is that it is a song of hope and simplicity.  I only need to know that there is love.  Once I know that, everything else will follow in some way, shape, or form.  And that is a message that I hope others will have seen in my actions.

Comes back to the question of "if I were on trial for being Christian would there be enough evidence to convict me?" I hope that my actions of love and acceptance would be part of that evidence.

The opportunity to have so many messages that are dear to me so clearly communicated by word and music would be wonderful.  Of course, I hope that the opportunity to share these lessons does not come too soon.  While one of the readings on Monday was about the joy of marriage, I find the links to the same readings we used at our wedding to be a way to point out the importance of marriage.  The same fundamental ideas that have guided me for the last 22 1/2 years continue to guide me.  And I suspect they always will.

If those who come to my funeral some day can take with them the lessons that have guided me, I will be understood.  And while Saint Francis's prayer says I should not seek so much to be understood as to understand, at that point, I can't do any more understanding and the best I can hope for is that being understood will inspire others.  

The Spirituality of Advent, Day 4, Week 1

Today's entry will be a shorter reflection on hope, continuing the theme of things that I have thought about either at or since the funeral mass on Monday.  

I had been informed several weeks ago of the possibility of being asked to play at a mass again.  I have also been asked to play at Christmas Eve mass.  These will be the only two times I have played at a mass since the confirmation mass in the first half of 2013.  

When the funeral mass was finally scheduled, it was only by chance that I had a morning I could completely clear.  And it was only by chance that I had a couple extra hours on a Sunday afternoon that I could clear to practice for the mass.  

While I have recently written that at every turn in my life when I had to make a choice about music or something else I have chosen something else (and it goes back even further than what I wrote about before as I went from an active enjoyment of singing in chorus through middle school but no music classes in high school), I forgot just how much I enjoyed playing.  It all came back to me with practice on Sunday and playing on Monday.

The experience was so powerful that it is even tempting to ask myself--how could I get back to this on a regular basis, at church or otherwise?  And not just taking lessons (although that may be interesting) but actually playing with others.  Music is so much more interesting and fulfilling for me when I play in a group.  And as I alluded to yesterday with Matthew 18:20, if that can be in the context of two or more gathering in God's name, all the better.

But I know I have to remind myself that there are only so many hours in the day.  And while I love many things, I have to focus on what is most important to be most satisfied.  So for now, I must sit on the sideline except on rare occasions.

That brings me to another day of hope.  I hope I can find a way to keep music in my life at an active participation level.  I hope that I can find balance in my life among the many things that matter.  And I hope that I am sufficiently aware of myself and those around me to know what opportunities are the right ones to take and what opportunities I should sit out.  Sort of like a serenity prayer about balancing things in life.

As a final note about music, we did not sing, I Can Only Imagine at this funeral.  The worship band has sung that many times before.  It is about the pure glory of God.  It is about being present with God.  However, doing it so many times or hearing it on the radio so many times, it can get old.  On Sunday morning, driving my 14 year old to his ice skating lesson, I heard a more "gospel-like" version that really touched my heart (I think it was sung by Tamela Mann).  This being moved by something that is a little different is another reminder of the power of music that I hope to continue to engage.  But we will see just how well I am able to (or unable to) continue to engage in this moving forward.

Again, my biggest hope is that I can continue to properly identify what is most important. 

The Spirituality of Advent, Day 3, Week 1

Looking back at yesterday's blog entry all I can say is that it showed how little faith I have sometimes.  Looking forward from yesterday, I can say that I, who was part of the ministry team, received what was probably some of the most powerful ministering yesterday.  Funny how that happens sometimes.  I hope others received something from my ministry as well--in fact, I'm sure some people did based on comments.  

The biggest thing that from yesterday's blog entry that was proven absolutely wrong was that I would be surrounded by people but somehow feeling alone.  I can assure you that did not happen.

Matthew 18:20 should have given me a clue in advance that I would not need to worry:

For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them.

There were many gathered in God's name yesterday to honor Greg Smith.  To read about the man I was there to honor here is a link to the obituary.  I heard one friend in the worship band describe him as a "mover and a shaker."

The obituary, the number of people at church (a standing room only Catholic church), the stories told about him during the homily (Fr. Hank Hilton focused again and again on Greg's grateful heart), the stories told about him during the eulogy that his brother made it through without losing it all point to one thing--how much he was loved.

And seeing that, I cannot think of how anyone in the church, myself included, could have felt alone.

I received one hug that I needed.  I gave one hug that someone else needed.  And I felt the joy and power of the experiences that so many had had along the way of the life we were celebrating.  

No matter what has kept me from playing my bass with the worship band since Confirmation (lack of time due to the new job or otherwise), yesterday was a true blessing.  

A blessing that the group I played with still cares about me.

A blessing that after six months, I was weak in a few spots, but I had pretty much not lost my touch with the bass.

A blessing to hear of the love that so many felt for and from the man whose life we were celebrating.

A blessing to see how many people could come together to celebrate life, support the family, and support each other.

The thought that maybe this is what I teach my children about in Sunday school sometimes--if there ever was an example of how we can experience God's kingdom here on earth, the inside of St. Pius X yesterday between 10 and 11:30 was it.  A unity of purpose.  A serene experience.  Nothing but love.  

I wouldn't have been surprised if there was a halo of light around the church yesterday representing the glory and power of God for all the world to see.  

Hope was waning when I wrote yesterday morning.  I could talk about the hope of resurrection but I felt an emptiness of hope inside my heart.

Hope has been restored heading into the rest of the week and beyond.  I must remember Matthew 18:20 and recognize that that alone should give me hope when I am gathered with others to truly focus on God's gifts.

Hope is waiting for me to keep it close to my heart as long as I want to.  It is only when I let go that it ceases to be there.  

The Spirituality of Advent--Day 2, Week 1

Hope, choice, and a celebration of life.

None of these are small topics.

Today's message of hope will involve writing about a funeral, and some of the thoughts that it inspires.  I am sure that I will focus on this for some (or even much) of the rest of the week.

The funeral I will attend today will be for a gentleman from the parish of which I have been a member for the past 17 years.  He passed away at age 48.  He had four kids.  I don't believe the oldest is out of college, and I think that youngest is a middle schooler.  Married 23 years.  While this is not the person who has passed away to whom I have been closest (that was Gerry Paradiso back in 2010, whose passing started my personal blogging), this is the person to whom I am closest in age.  And he lived in a nearby neighborhood.  And he went to the same church.  And he did everything a person is supposed to do.  And yet, at an age just a little over four years older than me, he is no longer with his family.  I have to admit, that while I have achieved much in life and I trust that things could carry on without me and I am satisfied with my accomplishment, the loss is scary.

It is offset by hope--for resurrection.

The choice--this morning, with Sherry away on her "fall break" for the second of five nights, I chose to take the dog for an extra long walk rather than run.  This was my celebration of life.

How?

Well, most mornings, I consider my running to be a clear celebration of life.  My life.  Although there are at least some mornings (like Thursday, Friday, and Saturday over Thanksgiving weekend), when I have the opportunity to run with others and celebrate life in an even bigger way.  All of this through gifts from God.  But most mornings, especially during the week, it is about celebrating only my life.  And with Sherry having been away for two nights, leaving me to sleep alone (not even the cat or the dog come to sleep with me through the night at this point) and manage the kids alone, I didn't want to focus just on my own life this morning.

So, I chose to walk the dog.

Walking the dog is always a celebration of life.  Two beings enjoying each other's company for a period of time.  Maybe conversation or maybe not.  Even if there is conversation, it is one way--although the dog can react.  Maybe silence and just enjoying the outside.  But celebrating the chance to do what people and dogs are supposed to do--be social and be together.

I will be playing my bass at the funeral today.  Even though there will be hundreds of people at the funeral mass, and I will know many of them through the years at the parish, I really only knew the family tangentially.  So, while I will be surrounded by many people, I fear that I will be mostly alone in an important way during this celebration of the life of an exceptional parishioner and process of hoping for the joy and peace and serenity of the resurrection.

That is why I chose to celebrate life by walking with my dog rather than running alone.  This helps me to remember that I am constantly on a walk with God.  And that is the source of much hope.  

The Spirituality of Advent--Day 1, Week 1

What a morning!  It is 7:40.  I have done more than an hour of work, run 10k, showered and shaved, and driven my son from our house to Ice World (two counties away) for his Sunday morning skating lesson.  I love living life to the fullest.  I really enjoyed seeing the thin sliver of moon with the curve toward the earth as I ran on this relatively warm morning.  Here is a website that called it a waning crescent.  Good description.  Extra pretty that it faced the Earth rather than being upright as shown on the website. Relative is the key--it was still in the 20's but it was in the city and there was no wind.  I was so glad to get out.  Now, I am typing while drinking a Diet Coke and eating leftover banana-chocolate chip bread.  

This morning is the first morning of the first week of Advent.  A few days ago I noted that I would write each day during Advent this year to see where it takes me.  I found a website that describes the four candles with the first standing for hope.  Not sure that this website provides the "final word" on the issue, but I like the idea.

So, we begin with hope.

And I begin with a discussion that draws on a public radio program I heard recently.  While I have not been completely impressed with all the recent changes in programming on NPR in general or on local public radio stations, when I was driving to meet my friend to run 12 miles yesterday morning I heard a program on WYPR that caught my attention--Studio 360.  The specific program talked about the Wizard of Oz.  

It is probably clear to anyone who has ever seen the movie or read the book why this would be an interesting juxtaposition with hope. But what I found most moving was listening to Salman Rushdie.  He had written an essay that he read from.  In it he talked about the tension between the desire to return home and the desire to be someplace else.  Someplace where dreams really do come true.  He thinks that while many people interpret the movie as focusing on getting home, the movie was definitely favoring the yearning to be someplace else as its guiding purpose. He suggested that the song, Somewhere Over the Rainbow, should be the anthem for immigrants who move because of hope.  I don't believe that Mr. Rushdie actually used the world hope but it is an obvious way to summarize what he was getting at. 

I almost teared up when I heard Mr. Rushdie read from his own book about the Wizard of Oz.  I think I may seek out the book and read it.  It seems like it would be a good read. The story of the conflict between a desire to explore and get to someplace new versus the desire to get home.

What does all of this with Salman Rushdie and the Wizard of Oz have to do with Advent and hope?

Hope for a guiding light.  Realizing that the guiding light has been here all along hope for a brighter guiding light than I had last year.  Hope for a place where dreams come true.  Dreams of understanding my faith.  Dreams of being able to communicate that faith better to the children I teach.  Dreams of being able to share that faith better with my family.  Dreams of understanding the words I hear at St. Pius X every Sunday.  Dreams of building more interesting, more informed, and more informative links between different aspects of my spiritual life.  

I am not an immigrant, so Somewhere Over the Rainbow cannot be my theme in the way that Mr. Rushdie suggested.  But I am a constant seeker.  Somewhere Over the Rainbow can be my theme as a message for seeking.  Seeking something better.  Not that I am dissatisfied with what I have.  But there is always room for improvement.  Deeper understanding.  More comfort.  More serenity.  May I live up to this moving ahead.