A MOTHER’S DAY REMEMBRANCE

Not many people knew my Mom; but, then, in the grand scheme of things, not many people will know any one of us either. And that is probably for the best, if you think about it. Mom never wandered very far from home. If that was a regret on her part, she never voiced it. She lived in her very little corner of the world; but she knew more about what was going on in the world than most people, including those who should know what was going on.

Most of all she cared, cared about the whole world, especially those whom most of the world could not care less about, or certainly acted – and continue to act – that way, namely, the poor, the hungry, the suffering. She could not do much about any of that, but she did what she could. She prayed for them every day and she challenged me in every conversation we had – and I do mean “every” – as to what I was doing about alleviating such misery. I wish I could say I had an adequate response.

As Christians one of our chief responsibilities, if not the most important one, is to be a living reminder to everyone we encounter of our faith in Jesus Christ. Others are to see Jesus living in us. Not to sanctify my Mom prematurely, but she, more than any one I have ever met, was that living reminder. Every one who came into her life was somehow changed for the better, and knew it, even if they never told her, which would have embarrassed her terribly. But, then, I never did either.

She was a simple woman: unassuming, unpretentious, humble. Most people would think her life to have been dull and boring, but it was anything but, not for her, anyway. She was always busy: sewing, gardening, cooking and praying in those in-between times; but she always took no-interruption times every day just to pray and read her Bible. Nothing would interfere with that.

She never judged anyone because she never walked in their shoes. If she disagreed with their actions or words, she simply prayed for them and let the rest up to God. Perhaps that’s why so many of my peers when they were younger would come by and sit on the steps and talked with Mom. She put down whatever she was doing and she listened. She counseled. She was there for each one and acted as if each was the only person in the world at that moment.

When Arlena told her one day many years ago that she was the most Christian person she had ever met and that she never heard her say a bad word about anyone, she smiled and patted her shoulder. When Arlena asked what that meant she said, “I learned that from my Mother. She sits on my shoulder every day.”

When Mom died after living almost 97 years, it was time: time to be with her God, time to be with those who went before, time to be at peace. I was blessed to be able to be with her twice a week when Arlena and I moved back home. Those times are now gone forever in this life. But she is still with me, with those who knew and loved her and were loved by her, sitting on our shoulders. Thanks, Mom.

HEROES AND SKELETONS

Most of us, perhaps all of us, have had heroes as we were growing up. We may even have some today. We probably should. Since no one of us is the best of the best in any aspect of life, since there is always someone better at whatever it is we admire and our proud of in ourselves, since we can always be and do better, it is important that we not only recognize and acknowledge our shortcomings but that we also hold up those who are better than we are.

That does not make these heroes of ours gods in any way, shape or form. They are just as fallible as we are, just as prone to failure, just as in need of their own heroes, and, in other words, just as human as we are. No one, no matter how accomplished, how revered, how held in respect and awe, is without imperfection. There is no one of us who does not have a skeleton or three in his or her closet.

There is one area of life in which we are all equals and that is the fact, the truth, the indisputable truth, that we are all sinners. Some may be greater sinners than others. Some are greater sinners than others. That is obvious. Some of my distant relatives had no compunction when it came to taking another person’s life – and in cold blood, no less. My sins pale in comparison.

Even so, the fact that I am a better person than say a Great Uncle Giuseppe is neither reason to brag or feel proud, nor does it let me off the hook for my own sins. Unfortunately, if you are like me, the temptation is to cut myself some slack, sometimes a lot of slack, just because I not only deem but know myself to be better morally than someone else. The truth is, I often do.

Even more, when I do come to grips with my own failings and shortcomings and admit that I am not as good and as holy as I want to think I am or want others to think about me, this does not allow me to gloat when someone I have held up as a paragon of virtue comes tumbling down to earth. Such thoughts are not only unbecoming they are also a source of false pride. Whenever I take the tiger by the tail, I soon discover that tail is attached to me.

No one truly likes to see a personal hero fail or fall. The fall is never in isolation because too many innocent people are caught in the mess, often those the fallen hero loves the most. Yet, sadly, it happens regularly. When it does, what we need to do, what we must do, what is certainly the Christian thing to do, is not gloat over that person’s downfall but to realize and reflect that there, but for the grace of God, or simply dumb luck, go I.

Whenever the skeleton in another’s closet, especially that of one of our heroes, is exposed, it should give us pause. It gives us the time and the opportunity not only to pray for that person and all who have been and will continue to be hurt. More importantly, it will allow us to reflect on our own lives in order to contemplate our own skeletons and pray not only that they remain locked up but that we will so live our lives from now on so that we do not add any more to that already almost-full closet.

HOW DO WE KNOW?

It is a given that we all want to do what is right, what is just, what is loving. Yes, we all sometimes do what we know is wrong, what we know to be unjust, what we know to be selfish. And we do so knowingly, willingly and deliberately. We are human. But children of God that we are, there is something innate in us that desires the right, the just, the loving, the good.

How do we know that to be true? Simply because as soon as we have said or done something we know to have been wrong or unjust or selfish, we feel guilty. And we don’t like that feeling. We don’t like it one bit. We don’t like to live with the knowledge that we have failed to live up to what we desire of ourselves, namely, to be the best person we can be. It eats away at us.

But how do we know what to do? How do we avoid making mistakes? Somewise person once observed that good judgment comes from experience. Experience comes from bad judgment. In other words, sometimes we have to make mistakes to know we have done that which we should not have done. Sometimes we truly have to touch the hot pan to know we should not touch hot pans.

Sometimes, however, we are met with what sounds like conflicting pieces of advice. We are told that we must look before we leap. Wise advice else we might jump headfirst into a pool that is only a foot deep. On the other hand, we are told that the one who hesitates is lost. In other words, full speed ahead. That, too, can be wise advice as we all have no doubt learned from experience.

We are reminded that many hands make light work. The more, the merrier and the quicker the job gets done. On the other hand we are told from reputable sources that too many cooks spoil the broth. Too much advice can make a simple job seem overwhelming and it can certainly make a mess of what everyone wants to do but where everyone also has his or her own opinion on how best to do it.

So how do we know? How do we know when to go it alone or when to seek help, when to take our time before starting a project or when to jump right in? An old Jewish saying has it that the difference between the wise person and the clever person is that the clever person can extricate him/herself from a situation into which a wise person never would have gotten into in the first place.

It’s always better to be wise, but wisdom comes from experience and experience comes, often, from making mistakes, from getting ourselves into positions we could have avoided had we been wiser, from slowing down when we should have sped up and from speeding when we should have slowed down.

All of which is a reminder about one, if not the essential, lesson of Easter. That is that no matter what happens, no matter what mistake we have made or how many, there is always resurrection. Learning from our mistakes is an Easter experience. Good to know.

FORGETTING IS IMPOSSIBLE

It is certainly something good for me that I found my vocation in an area that is as far removed from science as possible. I get to think thoughts scientists rebel against. They want proof and I only ask for theories that sound and seem logical but, in the end, may not hold water. But they get me through the day even if at the end of the day I have more questions than answers. I can live with ambiguity. I suspect scientists cannot.

Faith is like that. It allows us to live without having all the answers even as we struggle from day to day with questions that beg for answers. God-questions abound for the believer and unbeliever alike. God-answers are few and far between. People of faith can live without the answers. People who lack faith, who demand answers and want empirical proof, simply write God off. That’s their choice.

Yet we people of faith still have to live in the real world where seemingly simple faithful and loving actions are difficult because what our faith asks us to do is well-nigh impossible. We are asked, for instance, to not only forgive the person who has sinned against us, deliberately and knowingly, but also to erase the memory of that sin from our minds, or at least to act as if it has been erased. But, no matter how faithful, how loving, how much we want to, we cannot. Forgetting is impossible. Everything we have ever said or seen or done is locked in our brain somewhere waiting to be called to mind once again. All it needs is some trigger and, bang, there it is for us to relive all over again.

Some, many, even most, of those memories are pleasantly recalled. It’s the bad ones that give us so much grief, the ones we wish we could erase but cannot. They haunt us and can make daily living difficult especially if the one we have hurt is someone we love, which is usually the case, is it not? The old song says it so well: we only hurt the ones we love, the ones we shouldn’t hurt at all.

All of which brings us to Easter and resurrection and new life. We believe that Jesus died on the cross on Friday and was raised to life on Sunday, on Easter. We believe that new life can come from death, whatever that death. We believe that even when bad horrible, awful things happen to us, especially those of the intentional kind, there is always resurrection – or at least there can be.

But new life, resurrection, does not come all on its own. It takes the grace of God as well as both our desire to live that new life and to cooperate with God’s grace make to resurrection happen. If we want new life to come, if we want resurrection, we can make it happen. If we do not, it won’t. God won’t force us to do anything we do not want to do. It’s as simple as that. Forgetting is impossible. Forgiveness is not.

That does not mean it will be easy. It won’t be because that which caused the pain and hurt will never be forgotten, but it can be forgiven. It is only in forgiveness that resurrection and new life takes place. Easter reminds us that with God’s always-offered grace and our willingness to accept that grace and do our part there can always be resurrection – no matter what the scientists may say. Happy Easter.

HOLY WEEK

The events we remember and celebrate during Holy Week are almost too much to comprehend let alone try to get our hearts and minds around, to grasp fully. It is as if the church is asking too much of us in offering Palm Sunday, Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, the Great Easter Vigil and the Easter itself as occasions for worship, reflection and remembrance.

But here we are. Even as late in the year as it is this year, Holy Week is somehow suddenly upon us and we are asked to clear our calendars and immerse ourselves in the events of Jesus’ life, death and resurrection. And even if we can, and even if we do, once the week is concluded and we are back to our normal lives coming the day after Easter, we will find ourselves trying to put everything into some semblance of perspective.

So how do we get at least a small handle on some of what took place that week so long ago? How do we make some sense of it all and apply it to our own lives? How do we make Holy Week personal but not too personal so as to be so overwhelmed by it all that we throw up our hands and walk away believing that it is simply too much for one person to comprehend?

Perhaps we already have. Perhaps that is why the celebrations during Holy Week are so sparsely attended: we’re convinced that it is religion overload and we can only take so much at one time. Yes, our time is important and our calendars are already full and to ask us to clear those calendars to come and worship so often is just asking too much. Maybe so, but there it is.

Yet each of those celebrations/remembrances of events in Jesus’ life is also an opportunity for each of us to examine our own lives to discover that what happened to Jesus happens to us not just one week of the year but every week of every year. Palm Sunday’s celebration is a reminder that as Jesus was entering Jerusalem from the east, Pilate and his army was entering Jerusalem from the west. Every day we are asked whom we serve: Jesus or Caesar.

Maundy Thursday with our remembering Jesus’ washing the feet of his disciples and the institution of the Eucharist remind us that we are called to serve those less blessed than we and know that we can do so through the strength we receive from the Eucharist. How are we fulfilling that calling and how often do we take advantage of the offered Strength?

Good Friday reminds us that Jesus died because his living example of love for all was a threat to those whose lives were being lived contrary to what he taught. Do our lives model Jesus’?  Do we back off on doing what is right on the one hand and do we do that which we know we should not on the other all because of peer pressure?

The events of Holy Week give us much to ponder about ourselves, about our lives, about how we live out our faith. The best way to do some needed pondering is by taking the time to do so, in church, at worship.

SOMETIMES THE HARD WARD IS THE ONLY WAY

Why does it seem that the only way to learn a lesson is the hard way? Why do we always have to touch the pan that we know is hot to learn not to touch hot pans? Why do we have to go down that road that we know, absolutely know, we should not go down because there is nothing good at the end of the road and yet still travel down it and always, always, always to our pain, chagrin and humiliation?

Why do sensible people act in nonsensical ways over and over and over again? We see it all the time. It’s up front and personal, in the headlines, the Number One item on the nightly news, fodder for talk shows and bloggers and pundits everywhere, and who isn’t a pundit anyway? We’ve all judged (fill-in-the-blank) both silently to ourselves and vocally to anyone who would listen. They did something they knew was foolish and wrong and, hopefully, are learning from their mistakes, and learning the hard way, much to their public humiliation and the vast blow to their pride.

While we may derive a scintilla of glee when “stars” get their comeuppance, it had better be momentary as well as thankful. We’ve all walked in their shoes, perhaps not to the same degree and certainly not with the same notoriety, but we have all been there. It’s called sinning. We all know from firsthand experience what that is and know, even more, how painful and how humiliating it is to admit that any sense of glee we get from the downfall of another does not justify our own failings.

Meanwhile the issue still remains: why do we have to learn the hard way? Why do we think that somehow we are going to be the exception to the rule? Why do we think that when we touch the hot pan, while everyone else will get burned, we will not? Why do we think that while it was obvious that So-and-So would get caught, we can get away with whatever it is we know is wrong?

We can’t and we won’t because our past sins have already caught up with us, the ones we thought we could and would get away with. Yet the pain and humiliation that came when our sins came to light has not prevented us from acting foolishly again, if not in the same manner, at least foolishly in other ways. We’re still touching that hot pan knowing full well we will get burned.

Sometimes I think that God looks on us and simply shakes his head (or her head – pick one), smiles, and hums that old peace-song refrain, “when will they ever learn, oh, when will they ever learn?” It’s a haunting question, isn’t it, especially when we know that it is so apt when we look at ourselves in the mirror and ask ourselves if we will ever learn, not only from the foolishness of others but from our own foolish ways?

It is no consolation that we human beings seem to demand to learn the hard way and that we will have it no other way. And while the public humiliation of others may give us pause, it does not seem to move us to get our own personal house in order. Life would be so much more pleasant and joyful were we not to repeat the mistakes of others and even our own. But, alas, that seems to be a pipe dream rather than a dream that can come true.

TELLING THE TRUTH CAN BE FATAL

One of the Ten Commandments admonishes us to never bear false witness. In other words: always tell the truth. Most of the time we have no trouble obeying this command. By nature we are wont to tell the truth at all times and we do. To be sure, there are occasions when we will allow ourselves a little white lie or tell a half-truth, but blatant lies are not part of our usual discourse.

We may not always tell it like it is because sometimes blatant honesty can be very hurtful to another, as when your spouse asks, “Does this outfit make me look fat?” It may also find you sleeping by yourself on the couch for the next week or two.  Sometimes, too, the one asking us a question has no need to know the answer as well as no right to ask the question in the first place. Another person’s personal business is none of my business and vice versa.

Yet there are those times when telling the truth is what is demanded and anything less would be wrong, such as when we are in court and on the witness stand. The truth about telling the truth is twofold: first, we are always on the witness stand, if you will. Our lives are to model what we believe. In fact, they do, no matter what we say about what we believe. We may profess our faith in Jesus as our Lord and Savior but our lives may very well witness to the truth that we really do not, as when we say and do that which us rather un-Christ like. 

At times, however, it almost seems as if we have come up against a rock and a hard place, times when telling the truth can be fatal, literally and figuratively. I believe Jesus got killed not because he was a threat to the Roman Empire and not out of political expediency but because he always told the truth about how we are to live and he modeled that truth by his life. He made too many people too uncomfortable. Silencing him, silencing his truth-telling, would make their lives easier. So they did.

We may never find ourselves in such a situation where our life is on the line because we told the truth, but telling the truth can still be fatal. I think of Walter Mondale telling the voting public that he would raise taxes were he elected President. Such truth-telling was fatal to his election. Telling the truth is not about sticking one’s finger in the wind and discerning which way it is blowing and then saying what the people want to hear. It is about saying what must be said in spite of the consequences.

Again, those consequences can mean the death of a career, political or otherwise, or the death of a relationship. Speaking and acting on the hard truth will always give us pause as only a fool blurts out the truth without thinking about how those words will be heard and understood. Truth-telling is always momentous and often dangerous.

In speaking the truth we must measure our words carefully but we must also be certain that our lives support what we are about to say. Speaking with a forked tongue may still be speaking the truth, but we are not going to be heard. Might that not be the reason why we often are reluctant to tell the truth, to say what needs to be said? Just asking.