Giving To Ourselves, Too

After we had given to all the charities and marched on behalf of everyone who needed our company, after we had sent them to Appalachia and uptown to the poorer parts of town, after we had collected clothing, food, and money and whatever else had been asked, she wondered when our turn would come.  When would we give to us.  It was a fair question, but we had defined ourselves and our belief in terms of giving.  It was a one-sided thing, and so was incomplete.  Give to us too.  Treat ourselves as fairly and as well.  It puts equity into the process and acknowledges our goodness.  Giving is fine, but it should include us all.

Sanctity and the Church

The sign of Church, the one identifying it as what it ought to be, what proclaims its source, aim and end is sanctity.  Without this, it is not what it claimed to be.  If there is no sanctity, there is no Church.

Herod in Us

We are not above being Herod, unwilling to share our kingdom with another, afraid of another's class or contribution.  It is more, not less, a kingdom for being more than just mine.

Our Hidden Selves

Is it because we are afraid of each other that trusting is so hard; or is it because we are afraid of ourselves, of the selves we will not let you see -- the selves we show not even to us, the ones not even we know?

Therapy in Summer

Fewer people begin treatment in the summer and there are more cancellations.  Whatever is wrong has to wait for a day when the weather and the feeling agree.

The Prospect of Doing Well

They seemed most upset by the prospect of doing well.  They seemed intent upon stressing what might go wrong.  For every favorable thing I might raise there was someone to say, "Yes, but...," as though I were dismissing what was essential, as though doing well had to be considered the aberration, a passing moment -- and the sooner it passed, the better.

The Dream

The dream was so real, so reassuring and safe.  We were together and able to hope.  It was in a time that never really was, but was so like ones we had shared.  It was like days when treatment seemed to work and we might wonder why we had been worried and so afraid.  But then it was over.  I felt even more alone for the hope was well over.  It could not come back.  I could, I suppose, be as grateful for dreams as I am for memories.  But it hurts to know they will not come true, as it does to realize memories are only that.  They are good for having been, but sad for being over.

What Can We Expect

If people become ineffective because we have treated them as though they were, if they are as needy as we said they would be, is it fair to be angry at them for the poverty of thought, action, and spirit we predicted?  When our inclination to care as we so far has ended, what -- besides angry words -- can we offer?  We fulfilled our need to help, but how much did it do for anyone else?

A Time for Pentecost

Pentecost may be like the grand opening day sale.  You cannot have one every day and expect people to become as enthusiastic and responsive.  Neither would they be as believing.  No more than they would be were we to each day have a going-out-of-business sale.  Pentecost is an event for a particular time.  One is all there may be need for, unless we have closed the store and need now to re-open.

Letting Go Control

If, as you think even if you do not say, you are the best at this work why not take some of the advice you offer?  Why not let go of what is not yours to control?

Relativity

The more aware we become of the vastness of the universe, the more impressive becomes the act of creation but the less significant may seem events on any single planet.

Crossing Over

He is deciding to give up on being a young person.  Sine he is well into his fifties it is not such a bad idea.  He is not going to try to impress anyone or rely on their response to assure his value.  His wardrobe, he thought, might also change:  sensible shoes and more somber shades.  He is going to wear sweaters more often, even before he is cold, and a scarf when he goes out.  He is going to take an interest in more sedentary pursuits and read more ponderous books.  Since deciding to decide this issue he thought he might do well as a junior grade elder, a less stodgy sage who could add life to discussions, providing some more recent reflection to the gathering of wise old men, hoping they won't think him too young.  He is going to tell more stories, share more vital experiences with the younger people; and in general, he might focus more on planning than action, counseling more patience and further consideration of whatever is at hand.  Maybe he could be critical of those less experienced, those with less time to ponder.

It is not a bad plan, but there would be no going back once he had crossed over.  Maybe he will give it a bit more time and a little more thought, putting those sensible shoes on hold.

Who We Are

People are essentially good, but there is a temptation to make them even better, to rob them of the capacity to be wrong and to act sometimes in a truly evil way.  There is a potential for the appearance of either aspect.  What gives us value is the tendency to live most often in a direction or with an inclination that makes the occurrence of evil so startling, an exception so out of line with what we have assumed would be.  There is no need to deny our capacity to be the worst of who we can be.  What should instead be guarded against is an inclination to dismiss it, to not note the inclination and downplay the instances of its occurrence.

Faith in What Gets Heard

The disciples at Pentecost spoke their own language.  They were responsible for what was said, and how it was presented.  They did that.  How it was heard depended on the hearer.  There was no need for the disciples to do other than tell what they had experienced in the words of that experience, to tell their faith as they believed it.  How it was received by those who could receive it was not theirs.  They had to trust those who would hear to hear.  It was their act of faith to say what they could, trusting it would make sense to someone else's heart.

Wanting Fairness

Even as they listen they are preparing to ask how to make it better, not hearing that there is nothing to be done.  They so want life to be fair, they miss all reference to permanent damage and irreversible process.  Because it should be fair, the absence of it becomes so hard to hear.

God's Doubt

Moses is honest in his discussion with God, saying these are stiff-necked people.  God is given a choice to come with them still.  Knowing who they are, the limitations as well as the potential, God signed on for the journey.

What Cannot Be Said

What cannot be said in five minutes can probably be said no better in twenty, and far less well in thirty.

Why Not to Give Advice

What I told her was probably true, but it was no help.  So why did I tell it?  Maybe I believed that knowing why she felt badly could make her feel better.  Maybe I wanted her to know that I knew, or thought I did, how hard it could be being alone.  Maybe I was disguising my distress in hers, hoping one of us might then be free.  Whatever the reason, it was not a good enough one.  I hadn't so many friends that I could send the good ones away.

The Oafishness of Power

The nation is so intent upon its power, asserting its might as though it were the essence of the country.  There are moments -- perhaps of insecurity -- when the leaders seem to bluster more, demanding a recognition of the force we might control, as though being strong were an asset rather than an attribute. Strength is something you may or may not have.  It is not one's essence; yet, when our weakness might become apparent we run to those things that allow us to hide behind them.  Bombs of frightful destructive capability and ships the size of cities.  Planes and missiles with so much terrible potential.  They are, however, good only for show since attempts to defy them make our guns and ships seem so clumsy, and us like foundering giants, Goliaths who can blunder about, smashing whatever we hit.  Unable to caress, having no touch that is not damaging, we can with this might do only harm.  It is becoming the oafishness that power belies.  This potential to destroy, rather than an indication of strength, is a measure of the degree to which the nation can share its fear and insecurity, displaying in its tantrums all that is least.  Rather than being used in any constructive way the nation's power has become that of a dinosaur, a flailing and ruinous force even if it had been intended once as good.

Made of Glass

People want to share your life.  It is theirs to offer.  Decide how or if you will respond.  You may think some things too essential.  You need not be made of glass.  Even openness can be a bit closed.

Facts and Truth

We have all kinds of facts.  It does not mean we have truth.

There Are Days

"There are days," he told me, "Most days, if the truth be told, when I am so uninvested in life, not even a spectator since spectators care about what they watch."  I've had days like that, but others too.  It sounded such a frightful burden.  He had nothing to look forward to, nothing but more of the same.  More burdensome days, days he trues not to share lest we be infected by the pain of them.  Protect us, Lord, from such terrible sadness.

A Real Truth

If too many people are too often agreeing and if they do so with too much enthusiasm, you might wonder have you become trite, or is it that you have hit upon one of those elusive entities:  a real truth.

Lessons from Emmaus

Those disciples headed for Emmaus may have been running away, afraid perhaps that what was being said might be true, that maybe the tomb was empty and he really had risen -- a prospect less appealing than a death they could mourn and the satisfaction of having been on a losing side.  Jesus joined them to say it was all right to believe in another response:  the overcoming of death and life beyond what had seemed so final.  He tells them it is OK to be part of what may be rather than what is over, a future as well as a memory.

The Exception

An exception may demonstrate a generalization's vulnerability, but it does not prove a rule.

How to Change

If we begin by listing reasons why we cannot change, it should be no surprise when nothing happens.  You may increase your frustration and become frightfully angry, but you have answered the question.  By listing whatever might go wrong, you have assumed an obligation to make it true.  Better to decide what you want and find ways to make it occur.

Tolerating Life

There are, it seems, a number of people tolerating life.  They lack enthusiasm for it and are without energy to participate more actively in it.  It is a form of depression I have seen most often among social service workers, people capable of giving or caring for strangers, though not satisfied -- but perhaps sustained -- by this involvement.  They seem not to have the energy life may require, and act as though they had given it all away.  It seems a lack of appreciation, no sense of entitlement to anything more, and to suggest that they may change is suspect advice.  After a time they become rather gray, more drab than they had been, and everything about them slows.  They call it burnout, even though there had been little fire to begin with.  At that point life becomes tolerant of them, no longer inviting their participation, and those strangers for whom they cared arouse more resentment than concern.

A Change for the Church

Over time Churches have looked upon themselves as teachers of righteousness, the guardians of what is right and holy.  They have trouble understanding how anyone might want to define them differently, why they are assigned a different role or why there is a different connotation to the role and equating of them with what is least in any established institution.

No one would deny Churches have done and continue to undertake a great deal of good.  They have provided extensive service and they have tried to be faithful to the Gospel as they have understood it.  But some of what is best tends to be seen as over rather than as vital as we may wish.  In part this is because others have taken over some of the roles.  State and other charitable groups are offering at least as much and sometimes may do it better, and it has not always been possible for Churches to decide what they will now do instead.  Unless there can be a new function there may be an enshrining of what was, a moving into what used to be, a place they do not really belong.

It is only true that Churches have become aspects of established society.  It is, and should be, part of the fabric of the society of which religion is an aspect.  It is what it wanted to become.  There was a time, at least in this country, where Churches felt a need to be accepted or recognized, when they felt it was their role to be part of the whole.  That was, and remains, a reasonable goal and in some ways it has been accomplished.  The goal has been met.

But religion is then made focus of the criticism leveled against society.  When people are critical of society, indicating its limitations, accusing it of being too staid, comfortable and maybe stagnant, the Churches are covered by the indictment.  When people say the American dream may not have been fulfilled for everyone, or that is was not really as honest, good or holy as it claimed, Churches have an opportunity to consider the truth this may contain and then respond.  When people shift their gaze from past horizons to something in the future they may exclude what has been, including the Churches, and if this seems unfair then perhaps religion needs to again justify its inclusion in this new perspective.

Some of what is proposed is revolutionary in tone and in its zeal can be destructive in its formulation.  In talking of a new order, there is a facile proposition of destruction and rejection, a making of ashes from which something new can arise.  It is more important for some that there be ashes, that the false or unfaithful can be done away with.  It is not a helpful formulation, at best a partial truth and only half a goal (if that), but it is an aspect of the fervor and is directed against institutional anything, and Church should not need to be excluded.

The responses of Churchmen have varied.  Some assume hate born of disillusion will just disappear.  They think if ignored long enough and if their wish is sincere it will just stop.  Others recognize and accept the presence of bitterness and frustration, but think themselves virtuous enough and so not needing to reply.  In their estimation others may be distressed and we might wish they were not but it would not help them, and would do us less good, were we to change.  Others still have said yes to the revolutionary spirit, and have repudiated all they have been a part of.  It is as though they were waiting for anything to hang on to, anything that would snatch them beyond what they are an integral part of, so they now dangle within and without.  For most, however, response has been in lamenting a lack of understanding, a sad wondering why we were not recognized for who we wished we were.

What do we do?  What choices are available?  We could be condescending and remain as aloof as we can.  We could go along with what we do not, and maybe cannot, comprehend, pretending it made more sense than it does.  We could say that what was once so right has become at least as wrong, that we are sorry for whatever we have done or may be doing, that it was all a mistake.  Those are choices, though not such good ones.  Each Church's answer, and each believer's, will vary and in the end may be as complex and incomplete as was the question.

Part of the response may be realization that Churches do not do well if they settle too readily.  It may prosper but cannot flourish if it does not grow and change, questioning itself as well as its setting.  It is less itself the more static it becomes, and that is a hard temptation to decline.  It is easy and easily justified, but it is a settling in which satisfaction can seem like an accomplishment.  If it becomes complacent, religion tends to horde its truths and becomes more defensive than dynamic.

Times and needs change even though God may remain the same.  Responses should change as understanding changes, and as there is awareness of what is asked.  At most times, Churches have available their role as mediator or reconciler.  Mediation is not attempting to incorporate the present into the past, or that reconciliation is between the forces or revolution and those of established tradition.  The role is rather to mediate the word of God to the ever-changing world of today, and the today that will be tomorrow, while reconciling the world with God, who can change and grow and share through the process.

Mediation is less easily done by a Church standing on the outside of events, an observer believing itself untouched by time or untouchable by the men and women with whom it shares this world.  Any time the assumption is that we have arrived, that change is over, or that this point is the place of arrival rather than one of departure, Church will, like any of us, begin to settle and justification can become more essential than any form of reconciliation.  Despite (or maybe because of) origins in God, Churches are temporal and spatial.  They live and act in and for a world changing and different and demanding from day to day, and sometimes hour to hour.  There is no single answer to today's demands, and perhaps anyone offering a single, all-encompassing response has not understood the question.