TOO MUCH TO DENY, TOO LITTLE TO BE SURE

I think it was the philosopher Blaise Pascal who observed about God that there is too much that we can know about God to deny God's existence, but too little that we know about God to be sure enough to believe. If this is true, and I believe it is, then there is a reason why we all have doubts every now and then.

We can and we do look around and see what we believe are positive proofs, proofs, of God's existence. Someone greater than any one of us individually and all of us collectively had to be responsible for the created universe, we conclude. It just did not come about after one colossal big bang, no matter how big the bang, nor could it. The universe is too orderly for everything to be so ordered and still be so coincidental. It seems so obvious.

           

But we cannot be sure because we cannot understand. Oh, we can understand that God did it, that God holds it all together. But it is the "how" of God that leaves room for doubt. For doubt arises in minds that cannot understand but yet demand understanding. The more we want to know about God, the greater the chance that we will doubt God's existence. The opposite is just as true.

           

Does that mean it would be best for us to stop asking questions, faith questions? Probably. The only problem is we can't. Our hearts may want to rest in God, as St. Augustine prayed, but our minds never rest. The unquestioning heart says that God loves me. But when bad things happen to me or to my loved ones, my mind asks how could a loving God do this?

           

We do not act this way only with God, however. We do so with one another. Our hearts say that a person loves us. Our minds may wonder if that person really does after what that person just said or did to us. There is too much about our relationship with others that prove our mutual love, but sometimes not enough to hint that the love might not be total or reciprocal.

           

Doubt will never go away given our inability to know or understand everything and everyone. We do not even understand ourselves, not really. We ask ourselves why we did this or where that thought came from or how we could say something like that. The truth is, if we knew the answer to even those questions, we would be God. That fact that we do not proves we are not. But nothing proves God's existence. So we believe, so we are left only with belief.

           

The difference between a believer and one who refuses to believe is simply that. A believer chooses to live a life of faith even those whose minds are full of doubt. Those who do not believe in God refuse to do so because they seemingly cannot live with doubt God’s existence.

           

Who has the easier road to travel? Does it really matter? Or does what really matter is that we who believe live fully into our belief?

CELEBRATING CHRISTMAS UNAWARES

It would be easy to wax eloquent about how our society had made Christmas a Civil holiday rather than a Christian holyday. Many of my clergy colleagues have done so year after year. It would be even easier to moan and groan about the commercialization of this season. But if the truth be told, it would be a waste of breath and an even greater waste of words to do so.

I will grant that many of my neighbors probably, probably, because I have no way of knowing unless I ask them personally -- which I will not do -- do not even think about Jesus on Christmas. Jesus may be the last thought on their minds when they purchase and/or exchange presents. They may even have a crèche somewhere among all the decorations, but that is still no reason to believe that Jesus has any real meaning in whatever it is they do at this time of year.

           

Oh, they are certainly aware, or at least I hope they are, that Jesus is the real reason for the season, but he is not the reason why they are personally celebrating, giving and receiving presents or gathering family around the dinner table or decorating the house with a Christmas tree and lights and all the rest. You should see how hey decorate the outside of their homes! Their reasoning, I suspect, why they do all that and even more is that it is Christmas the Holiday.

           

Yet, the holiday and the holyday are so intertwined that one cannot celebrate the one without celebrating the other. I love holydays. Holydays are always holidays, always, days when we pause to remember and celebrate the holy, the good, the Godly. They are a pause within the ordinary. They are the extra added to the ordinary, the extraordinary, even the out of the ordinary. That is why they are special.

           

And holidays are holydays, but not always. If we do on holidays what we always do every other day, then there is nothing special about the day, at least for us. But when we take the holiday and celebrate it, even if our celebration is not in keeping with the real spirit of the holiday, it is still a holyday. How one keeps holy the holiday of Christmas --   for Christmas is both: it is, again, a civil holiday and a Christian holyday -- is almost beside the point. The point is that when we keep the holiday, we make it holy.

           

Many, many people are celebrating Christmas the Holyday unawares. The temptation may be to blame them for their failure to be aware of what they are doing. But we would be wrong if we did. If there is any failure, it is the failure of those of us who know what is holy in the holiday for not making the unaware aware of the holiness of this day.

           

We who have failed to convey the true and holy meaning of Christmas to those who celebrate the holiday can begin to redress our failure by inviting our neighbors to keep the holyday with us, to make the holiday truly holy. It doesn't take much. But it can mean the beginning of a new awareness, an understanding of what this season is all about.

           

Have a blessed holy/holiday.

WHO IS(ARE) YOUR ICON(S)?

Tom Hanks the actor was in Pittsburgh recently to film segments for his new film in which he portrays Pittsburgh’s great national and international icon, Fred Rogers. This past Wednesday our country, if only for a passing moment in time, stood still and, hopefully, together, to mourn the passing and celebrate the life of another national and international icon: President George H. W. Bush.

Our children grew up with Mr. Rogers as their teacher and adult role model. I would like to think that their parents were. But the truth is parents really don’t become role models until their children are about twenty-five or so. Hopefully we have at least been favorably compared to Mr. Rogers.

As I watched the service For President Bush on my tablet after returning from mother/mother-in-law duty, I wondered if the gentlemen in the first row on both side of the aisle were comparing themselves to the man they had come to remember and if it was a favorable comparison. (I’ll keep my opinion to myself.)

To paraphrase and old folk-protest song of my younger days, where have all the icons gone? Mr. Rogers is dead and my children are grown adults, some with children of their own. Who are my grandchildren’s icons? Who are our leaders’ icons? Who do we have to teach us the lessons of caring about everyone, service of others, kindness and generosity with no expectance of anything in return, for doing the right thing simply because it is the right thing to do?

Fred Rogers taught us that. President Bush taught us that. As a dyed-in-the wool Democrat I did not always agree with his policies but I never ever doubted he did what he believed was best for his country and our world. Mr. Rogers would agree. What I find refreshing is that both men lived and taught because their faith was deeply imbedded in their very being: Fred Rogers was an ordained Presbyterian pastor. George Bush was a lifelong committed Episcopalian.

Are not our icons those who have a deep-seated faith in God and who live out that faith in their daily lives and never, ever wearing that faith on their shirt sleeves? I didn’t have Mr. Rogers as my icon. I had Anne Pugliese, my Mom. In her own quiet and unassuming manner she taught me and my siblings the lessons Fred Rogers and, I trust and hope, my wife and I taught our children.

We all have those icons in our lives who call us to be better than we are simply because we can be better. They may not be with us in body but they are always with us in spirit. They taught us by their actions even as their words spoke volumes. More importantly, however, they are reminders that we are to be icons to others. We are whether we realize it or not. The question remains: what kind of icon am I?

BUNNY

I have a friend whom everyone calls “Bunny”. It’s not because he looks like a lost little rabbit (although sometimes there are resemblances), not because he is light on his feet (although in his long-past prime he was), and not because he is so cute and cuddly (although certain women I know think he is). No Bunny is called Bunny, I think, simply because the name doesn’t fit.

Let’s face it, can you see an All-State linebacker called “Bunny”? Can you imagine a hardnosed miner or steelworker called “Bunny”? Can you even believe a grown man called by that name? It just doesn’t fit, does it? And yet “Bunny” fits Bunny perfectly.

“Why?” you ask. “Bunny” fits Bunny perfectly because “Bunny” doesn’t fit: you never know when he is serious or when he is pulling your leg, when he is telling the truth or feeding you carrots.

Now this behavior might be disconcerting to some of us who just don’t like our legs being pulled. Some of us want a spade to be called a spade and not a shovel, if you know what I mean. Some of us just hate to be played the fool even in jest.

But people like Bunny are there to remind us that life, serious as it is, isn’t all that serious. Life is to be lived, loved and thoroughly enjoyed. One cannot be so straight-laced that any deviation is looked upon as out of the ordinary. The ordinary in life is often to expect the unexpected and not to always expect the expected.

That is why Bunny is so refreshing. I have learned, as the women I mentioned above have not, to expect the unexpected from Bunny. That includes a tear in his eye when he is telling me about how his Beloved lit a cigarette for him while he was flat on his back – and you know how she hates him to smoke. The unexpected also includes his total devotion to his children and all children, something that is rare these days when “Me First” often seems the pervading philosophy of life. The unexpected is being there when anyone needs him. Another rarity.

I write this not to give Bunny and the Bunnys of this world swelled heads. I write it to remind me, to remind all of us, that part of what makes Bunny Bunny is also part of us: the ready smile, the unpredictability, the joy of living, even when life seems unfair.

Sometimes we forget that life, our life, was given to us to be enjoyed, not just endured; to be lived out, not just languished through; to be celebrated, not just completed. Bunny enjoys, lives, celebrates life, every day of it. So should we.

Into every life a Bunny needs to come: to pick us up when we are down; to make us smile amid our tears; to hold our hand when we are weak; to ease our pain when we hurt so badly. We need to find our Bunny and we need to be a Bunny one to another.

THE PROBLEM

“If I only knew then what I know now….” That’s the lament of any one of us who has gotten in over our heads and didn’t know how to swim. Somehow we survived the situation, attested to by the fact that we can now make that lament.

There really isn’t anything wrong with “not knowing then” and making a mistake. I mean, we just did not know. If we did not know but should have, okay, then we are truly at fault. But simply not knowing imputes no guilt. The child of some friends jumped into a swimming pool when his parents’ backs were turned. It wasn’t his fault he didn’t know how to swim. Thankfully his dad saved him, although it took a headlong dive, clothes and all, to do so.

No, simply not knowing is not the problem. The problem is not doing: not doing what we know we should be doing. For that we have no excuse. “I should have known better” doesn’t absolve the guilt. Certainly I should have. Then why didn’t I? I didn’t because I did not want to. Why did I eat that strawberry shortcake when on a diet? I knew better. I ate it because I wanted to, that’s why.

That’s crass, isn’t it? I did it because I wanted to. No one made me do it. I did it all by myself. And I loved every minute of it down to the last forkful. Then afterwards, why did I feel so guilty? I did it. I wanted to. No one forced me. And no one stopped me. And herein lays the problem. I didn’t stop me and neither did anyone else. Didn’t they acre? Didn’t they know that it really was their business to interfere with my business because what hurts me hurts them?

Yes, they knew as I knew. But, you see, we’re all programmed to butt out. No, not with our children: we don’t let them do what we know they should not and we tell them so. We butt in all the time, much to their annoyance, especially when they are teenagers and let us know they know more than we do. But as adults with other adults we butt out all the time. We nose around a lot, but we butt out. We should know better, shouldn’t we?

Really! It’s right there in the Gospels. Jesus was always butting into other people’s lives. He never just nosed around. He never let bad-enough alone. He wanted to make it well. And he did so by butting in, by calling a sin a sin. He never allowed someone else’s deliberate mistake to be none of his business.

The problem most of us have is not doing what the gospel commands us to do: being about being other Jesus Christ’s, doing what he would have us do: butting in out of love to help others do what they know they should do and not do what they know they should not do and do so not just because we are nosey. There is a fine line between the two as we know from experience. We’ve all been on both ends of this what sometimes seems like a conundrum. Love of the other knows the difference even as the problem remains.

BEING NICE

The other day our youngest grandson, four-year-old Carter, came home from school and told his mom that they had a new girl in class. Her name was Talia. “She doesn’t speak English,” he said, “she only speaks Arabic. I don’t speak Arabic so we just have to be nice to each other.”

The wisdom of little children: we just have to be nice to each other! Somehow, somewhere along the line these past few years we adults seemed to have lost the notion that to live in this world we do need to be nice to each other. What I have heard over and over and over again, ad nauseam, from our elected leaders on down, is just the opposite – and they take pride in their language to boot.

My guess is that Jesus would be appalled were he to walk our highways and byways. No, no guess involved: Jesus would be appalled, IS appalled. There are no exceptions, ands, ifs or buts about it. If four-year-olds know that they need to be nice to one another to live in this world, why have we adults forgotten that basic truth of basic civility? And why do we allow our elected leaders to get away with such conduct especially when they are supposed to be our shining examples of civility in public discourse?

The more basic question, of course, is on the very personal level: our own public and even private discourse. Have we become less civil? Have we lost the ability to be nice to those with whom we honestly disagree, with whom we do not understand? Being nice does not mean that we agree with the other’s point of view. But it does mean that we do not degenerate into calling the other names that belittle that person.

When we put the shoe on our own foot and reflect on how we would feel if someone belittled us because of our politics or race or skin color or sexual orientation, we soon realize the depth of hurt those words inflict. The old adage that “sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me” is a lie. Words hurt deeply and sometimes forever, long after the bones have been healed.

What is worse, we can’t take those words back. They are indelibly marked on the soul of the one we hurt and are just as indelibly marked on our soul when others verbally abuse us. We all learned that back when we were Carter’s age, when someone called us names that hurt us. Our response, if you are like me, was to start to cry if those words hurt so deeply and, sadly, to retaliate with our own name-calling. We may have thought that we had gotten even, but we only made the situation worse.

We know all that. We’ve know all that since we were Carter’s age. We are reminded of it when we hear others verbally abuse another and, even more, when we are verbally abused ourselves. I’m proud of my grandson for reminding me of something I have known all along, reminding me to always be nice to everyone. It’s the only way to live.

JUST SAY “YES”.... “NO”?

It all sounds so easy, so simple, maybe even so right. The temptation to that not-ever-needed donut: just say "no." The need to get up at 6:00 for the always-needed exercise: just say "yes”. As we have all discovered, however, it is never that easy. That is why we are in the shape we are in spiritually and, perhaps, physically. That is to say, out of shape. There have been too many yeses when there should have been nos and vice versa. And so often when we did make the right response, the effort to respond was half-hearted at best.

Is that to say that we are really just lukewarm Christians, tepid people who hardly ever give it our very best when the best is what is demanded? I can only speak for myself, and I know the answer. My physical appearance often has a direct correlation to what my spiritual beings looks like. Self-discipline pervades our whole being, physical as well as spiritual. Appearances, of course, can always be deceiving, but not always.

Knowing what to do and doing it is not always the way it works out in life. Most of the time we know what we should or should not do. The problem is that we do not always do what we know should be done. One of the main reasons why this is true is that we try to do it -- whatever the "it" is -- alone. But we are not created either to be alone (see Genesis) or to live out our lives alone, all by ourselves, with no support (see the New Testament, most anywhere).

In order for us to really live, really practice a Christian life, we need two ingredients. First, we need our own intention to live that life: to say "yes" when we should say "yes" and to say "no" when we should say "no." Second, we need help, help in the form of a supportive community of faith. We can say "no" to a temptation for a while, but probably not for long and certainly not forever if we do not have the love and support of others.

Self-discipline is important and it is vital. We can have a whole community of people who love and support us, cheering us on; but if we do not do our part, their love and support will go for naught. Yet once we decide to get in shape, we know that it will not come easy. We've all fought those same battles before and lost.

Living out the practicing of our faith is a process, a year-round processes. We don't do it just in Lent or just in Advent. Advent and Lent may be training camps; but as with athletes who have to be in shape when they come into the camp, so do we. Advent and Lent are times to hone our skills not develop them. We develop them by using them all year long.

Athletes find that during their "off season -- something which we do not have as Christians -- they stay in shape by working out together. They support and encourage one another. As a church community we do the same. We stay in shape, get into shape, together. Again, without that support and encouragement, that love we have one for another, it will be difficult if not impossible for us to say "yes" when we should say "yes" and to say "no" when we should say "no." To extend the analogy, living out our life of faith involves teamwork. We do it, live it together, or else not at all.

WALKING THROUGH CEMETERIES

Have you ever taken a walk through a cemetery just to take a walk? Some people do on a regular basis. Most people avoid cemeteries like the plaque: it's too close of a reminder of one's own mortality, I suspect. And so when we go to a cemetery, if we have no other choice, we go and get done whatever we have to do there as quickly as we can and leave, as quickly as we can. What we do not do is linger, walk around, look at the stone markers and monuments, read them slowly and thoughtfully, even reverently. Perhaps we should.

           

I can't say that I have a favorite cemetery. But if I had my choice about which one I'd prefer to walk through, it would be Union Cemetery back home. That's where my Mom and Dad, my Mom's parents (Grandma Lucia and Grandpa Francesco), and my Mom's two brothers (Uncle Dan and Uncle Dom) are buried. Many cousins are also buried there.

           

The grave markers in Union Cemetery are, in many instances, quite artistic pieces. There are large mausoleums that each hold several members of one family. There are huge granite edifices that speak of the wealth of the deceased. There are the little stone markers of the poor. The markers on my family's graves all note the name and the birth and death dates.  There is even a photograph on the grave marker.

           

When I was younger, I used to go to the cemetery with my parents to tend my grandparents' grave sites. I would walk around, the better to get out of work, and look at the photos on the other graves. Grandma, whom I never knew, was dressed in a period piece - she died in the late 1930s. Grandpa looked like he did when he came over from the old country, only sixty years older. Uncle Dan's picture was of him in the tux he wore at my parent's wedding.

           

Every grave marker tells a story. As a youngster I used to be fascinated about what stories lay behind all those names and all those pictures. I knew very little of those stories, even those of my own family. But I am who I am because of those people whose bodies are buried under all those markers at Union Cemetery in New Kensington, Pennsylvania -- all of them, not just my own family.

           

We are who we are because of all those who came before us. Others will be who they are and who they will become because we have passed through their lives in one way or another. The poet reminds us that no one of us is an island, alone unto ourselves. Cemeteries remind us that because we have never been alone and will never be alone, no matter how short or how long our lives, we will have an effect on others.

           

Our faith reminds us that we are called to live our lives as best we can so that we can not only live the life God calls and created us to live, but also because we leave a legacy to those who come after us. Jesus gave his life so that our life might be better. We are to live our lives so that the lives of others, all others, might be better. Cemeteries are reminders of life, of the lives of those who have died and who now live on in us, and that we live on, even today, in the lives of others.

WASN’T INTERESTED

Our youngest grandson, Carter, is in pre-school. He loves it and especially loves his teacher. He came home the other day and told his mom that he wanted to make banana bread to take to her. So mom and Carter made banana bread for Miss Whitney. Carter did all the work. When he took the bread to school and gave it to her, she asked why he made it for her. His replied, “Because I love you.” Okay, so I’m bragging. Isn’t that what grandparents do?

Anyway, one of the great benefits of Carter’s preschool is that lunch is provided. (Okay, okay: for what his parents have to pay, lunch and snacks should be provided.) One of the other great benefits for Arlena and me as grandparents is that the school sends a daily report home on Carter’s activities as well as what he was served for lunch and snacks. His mom forwards the report to us which is always accompanied by a photo or two. It makes the 250+ miles distance between us seem closer.

One of Carter’s latest reports said that he was served peas and carrots for lunch. It was noted that he “wasn’t interested”. When I read that comment, all I could do was smile. Been there, done that. I mean, who hasn’t been served a meal, or at least part of one, and just was not interested in eating what was served? And sometimes we are interested only to discover that what looked so good tasted so bad.

Years ago I was served cooked cranberries which I love. I put a heaping spoonful onto my plate. They were awful. But I had to eat them because the hostess was proud of them and her husband loved them. I later learned that she made them with artificial sugar because of his diabetes. I took one for the team, as they say, because I couldn’t tell her how badly they tasted and, unlike Carter, I had to clean my plate.

There are times in life when we have to do what we have to do even, and often especially, when we are not interested in doing what needs to be done, done by us and not by someone else. We just happen to be in a place where we are called to lend a hand and cannot and must not walk away even if that is exactly what we want to do. We can walk away, of course. We have that freedom. But unlike Carter we cannot simply say “I’m not interested in helping. Ask someone else.” Our faith just won’t let us.

It’s called our “Christian Conscience”. It sits on our shoulder and keeps us alert. It nags at us especially when those opportunities arise that call out for us to lend a hand to help someone in need. It reminds us that we have somehow been put into that situation precisely because we have the time and talent to respond whether we are interested in doing so or not.

I hope that the next time a situation arises when I am called to give of myself, interested in doing so or not, I do the right thing and give my best.

A SOUND THEOLOGICAL BUMPER STICKER

Most of the time when I see bumper stickers or license plates that are meant to send a certain message, I smile, cringe or ignore. Some of those license plates are really hard to decipher. I hate the ones that cite a bible passage, as if everyone is so biblically literate that the reader knows exactly what the message is that is trying to be conveyed and is as if any one passage or verse tells the whole story.

It’s like the “Honk if You Love Jesus” sticker. If all I have to do is honk my horn to profess my love for Jesus, being a follower of Jesus is a piece of cake. But we all know better, don’t we. The only honkers whose honks are meaningful are geese who honk to encourage the leader of the formation to keep on trucking. The honks our car horns make are usually made in anger anyway.

But I really digress. The other day I saw a bumper sticker that read: “The world is my country. To do good is my religion.” That’s profoundly theological and totally Christian even it is non-denominational. The truth is that there are as many religions as there are people. The word religion comes from the Latin word that means “to bind”. We, if you think about it, are bound by our personal religion: we do what that religion says we can do and don’t do what it says we cannot. And when we go against that binding, we feel remorse. When we adhere to it, we rejoice.

To do good and avoid evil is what our Christian faith is all about no matter what denomination we subscribe to. “Love God above all else and your neighbor as yourself” say the prophets, says Jesus, says Mohammed, say you and I. The truth, further, is that no one need tell us what good is. We know it innately because our Good God created us good. So when we do not do that which we know deep in our heart and mind that is not good, we know it.

And where do we do that good and avoid that evil? Everywhere, that’s where. The whole world is or country, our homeland. The Old Testament prophets always reminded the people that they must welcome the aliens among them because their land was their land as well. The world is our land and we are responsible for the whole world. That is not to get political although it is, in a sense, a Greek sense, again. The word political comes from the Greek word meaning “city”.

The point of that bumper sticker, at least to my understanding, is that the whole world is where we are to live out our religion of doing good wherever we are at any moment in time in that/this world. It means that we truly care about those who are suffering anywhere in this world and do what good we can to alleviate their suffering. It may not be much, maybe only a simple prayer, but it at least recognizes that those who are suffering are our neighbors no matter where they live. There is sound theology in that bumper sticker and a great reminder for me and, I trust, all of us.

IS HELL IN HEAVEN?

There is heaven and there is hell, at least to believers, to those who believe there is eternal life, at least in another form, after death in this life. But are heaven and hell two very separate and very distinct realities? Personally, I don’t believe in an eternal hell, a life without God, fire and brimstone notwithstanding. I believe God loves each and every one of us and always forgives each and every one of us.

Furthermore, if we believe Jesus died for our sins, our sins are forgiven whether or not we may even want them to be forgiven. Yes, in this life we do need to ask forgiveness for our sins, not so much ask God to forgive our sins because, as I said, God already does. That does not mean that God does not care. God does. It simply means that God as Love always forgives. We need to ask forgiveness in this life from those whom we have deliberately hurt in this life by our selfishness. That is not always possible and it is always painful, but we must try.

The real problem that we believers all have if we believe in God’s total forgiveness and God’s gift of eternal life to each one of us is what do we do with the real sinners like Hitler and Stalin to name just two? How can they be in heaven? It just not seem right or fair. And, yes, I have always said that with sin, difference in degree really makes no difference. Stealing a dime and stealing a million is still stealing.

So here’s my guess at Hitler and Stalin being “up there” with Francis of Assisi and how that can be. I have reflected on how my past sins and failings, things done and left undone, haunt me at times today, even those I committed years ago. Yet, at the same time, I love my life and am happy and content. It is only when those memories suddenly pop up that my happiness is tempered for the time being.

Those haunting moments are, if you will, momentary hell moments in my life. They are painful moments in the midst of my happiness and joy. That is how I am beginning to think about hell being in heaven. I can’t believe that when we die our past is completely erased and we start all over again. Maybe we do. But does that mean that I have to be introduced to my parents as if I never knew them? I don’t think so.

In heaven, amid my eternal joy and happiness, there will be times when that happiness will be tempered by the memories of my past sinfulness. I will know that I have been forgiven and will rejoice and be thankful for that. Yet, at the same time there will be the pain that those memories bring with them. Hell in heaven.

Again, that thought, belief, doesn’t give me any freedom to do what is wrong in this life. What it does do, at least for me, is allow me to believe that we are all forgiven and know that the memories of our selfishness in this life, hellish to be sure, will be with us forever even as we revel in God’s love in eternity in heaven.

IT STILL HAUNTS ME

Several years ago Arlena and I were returning from a visit in southern Florida and stopped somewhere in, I think, Georgia or maybe South Carolina, to get a motel room for the night. We got our room and headed across the parking lot to a nearby restaurant to get something to eat. Halfway across the lot a gentleman approached us and asked if we could give him some money for a motel room. He was a Navy vet and was returning home from the local VA hospital where he was undergoing chemotherapy for cancer treatments. The shunt was still in his arm into which the chemicals were inserted.

We gave him ten dollars and headed to dinner. Both of us, almost as soon as we sat down said, “Why didn’t we just pay for his motel room?” We knew, even if he had enough money to pay for a room for him and his wife, he would still need money for something to eat and probably for gas to make it back home. We were blessed. Still are and abundantly so, else we could not have afforded the Florida excursion.

But it was too late. And it still haunts me. What was I thinking? What were we thinking (if I can speak for Arlena and I can)? We are blessed enough to be able to help those less blessed and we know it and yet, when the time comes to share those blessings, sometimes we – I, to speak for myself – go braindead.

I shared that story at a bible study a few weeks ago. The participants told be that I should get over it. It was really no big deal and we did help in the way the gentleman asked. Maybe so. But we could have done so much more. That’s why I can’t and I do not think I ever will get over it, getting over leaving undone something I should and could have done. It still haunts me years later.

Personally, I am thankful that I cannot get over it. It has helped me become more aware of my blessings and that I can be even more generous with those blessings. After all, I can’t take them with me. Is it not what blessing are for: to be shared and to be shared especially with those who are less blessed and even more especially with those who in the moment are in real need?

That is where I was at that moment in time and I blew it. Unfortunately, it probably won’t be the last time. Humanly speaking, I am not always aware of the moment because it passes all too quickly. It is only when I have time to reflect back on those moments and realize the missed opportunity God had set before me to respond the way I could and should that I want to kick myself.

I suspect I am not alone in all this. Most of us take our blessing sometimes almost for granted. Even more, we tend to forget that we really don’t deserve to be so blessed. The gentleman I helped, but not in the way I could have and should have, was younger than me, was a veteran and was dying. That’s why I am still haunted and deserve to be.

WHO CREATED GOD?

The other say I called our youngest daughter to see if she could help me with a problem I was having with my computer. Since she works on a computer as part of her job, I figured she would know how to solve my problem. She was on her way taking Carter, her four-year-old, to pre-school. She solved my problem in about ten seconds. That was the easy part for me.

Then came Carter. He had two questions for me (Pap). He wanted to know if Pap could fix one of his light-up shoes because it wasn’t working any more. I couldn’t. They don’t make it so that you can. They make it so that you will buy another pair of shoes even though the ones Carter was wearing are still perfectly good as shoes but not in the light-up category. I told him we would buy him another pair when we saw him again. I mean, what are grandparents for anyway?

Then came question Number Two: “If God created everything, who created God?” THE question of the ages from a four-year-old. Why me? I’d rather try to repair his shoes than try to answer that question. His mother allowed me to think about the answer as they were just arriving to school, thank God, the God who would have to help me answer that question so that Crater would understand.

The problem is that I can’t answer it. No one can. It is the mystery of mysteries. Every once in a while I do go down that road. I start to imagine the time when there was nothing, nothing but God and I ask myself “How did God get there?” Within seconds I always walk away. I just do not want to go there and not because I think I will lose my faith. It is simply because it is a waste of time.

Thomas Aquinas thought he had an answer when he stated that God was the Uncaused First Cause. Well, of course! But I have to say, Old Tom, that does not make the question any clearer any more that my saying “I haven’t a clue.” The truth is, neither did Thomas Aquinas. He only tried to answer the question because he felt he had to, being the great phosphor-theologian that everyone said he was – and he was.

But smarts doesn’t answer that particular question for a believer. Unbelievers don’t have that problem because they see no need to ask the question in the first place. But they still have to deal with the results of what the First Cause caused: creation. Trying to explain creation out of nothing is just as difficult as trying to explain how God came to be. The Big Bang Theory explains nothing. How do you create something out of nothing?

I was lucky this morning. My hope is that Carter forgets to ask me that question the next time we talk. If he doesn’t, I’ll just tell him that it’s a mystery and that he is really too young to understand the answer anyway, but he will be able to when he gets older. I know that’s a lie. You have any better answer? I thought as much.

WE'RE IMPORTANT TO ONE ANOTHER

There are times in the lives of each and every one of us when we begin to feel that we are not all that important in the grand scheme of things. Why we feel that way we sometimes have no idea, but we feel that way anyone. It’s a little discouraging and certainly disconcerting especially when we believe that every person is important and no one is unimportant in God’s eyes and, of course, the only eyes that really count.

The truth is that we fill important places in each other’s lives. Even more, we don’t realize that are doing so when we are doing so. In the same way others fill important places in our lives. Sometimes we are quite aware that that is what we are doing as when we are present through their suffering or filling some needs that the other cannot do so without outside help.

Again, there are times we are simply unaware of how much our presence is important to another even if that presence is only in passing, especially if it is only in passing. A kind word, a friendly smile, a nod of simple recognition can make another person’s day just as a word or a smile or a nod sometimes makes our day. It doesn’t take much to uplift another or be uplifted by another.

Perhaps that is why we take these little gestures of recognition of the other for granted if we take them for anything at all. It seems that it is only when we have been uplifted by a kindly word or nod or smile that we realize just how important the person who uplifted us at that moment filled an important place in our life. It had been an empty space as we had been feeling a real emptiness. And now the void was filled.

Our lives are full of filling those empty spaces in the lives of others and having our emptiness filled by others, mostly in passing, but filling nevertheless. It’s not as if we walk around consciously looking for people whose lives we can fill by our very presence. Rather it is the recognition that we fill important places in the lives of others just by our very presence – and they do the same for us.

Nor is it important that we know that we have done so for another. The other may tell us that our smile or nod or word really meant something without having to explain what that something was. We understand because we have been on the receiving end of another’s kind smile that did so much to brighten our day even as we are at a loss to explain how that smile brightened our day.

What was important and what is always important is that we never forget just how we fill important places in the lives of others just by being who we are called to be: kind and caring people, people who have known emptiness but who have had that emptiness filled by the kindly actions of another. Little loving actions mean a lot, always have and always will. They are never unimportant and never will be.

SEEING THE WORLD THROUGH YOUR EYES

There is an old Indian saying that in order to understand another person we have to walk in that person’s moccasins. We have to walk the walk before we talk the talk: talk as if we understand that person. We know that to be true and we know that to be impossible. We can only walk in our own moccasins/shoes. We also know that a lot of living has gone into those moccasins, living that determines so much about who that person is at the moment we might want to walk in those shoes.

Walking in another’s shoes would only be the beginning of our trying to understand that person. We would need to go deeper. We would need to see the world through that person’s eyes. Again, like those shoes, those eyes have seen so very, very much, so much that what those eyes now see is colored by all that they have seen in the past. That is why a person born blind almost always has a better picture of the world he or she has never seen than of the world we have seen.

That is why when we begin to wonder why other people act the way they do, the reason is found in the miles they have walked and the sights they have seen and experienced. Their life, like everyone’s lives, has been colored by everything they have seen and experienced up to this very day.

And so has ours. Sometimes we forget that about others and sometimes we forget that about ourselves. We have become who we are because of our past. It would be good if we could actually walk in another’s shoes and see though that person’s eyes and thus understand that person. But would it not be even better if we would pause for a while and remember all those places our shoes have taken us, all those sights our eyes have seen?

It would be impossible to make a total recall, of course. But the really memorable moments would stand out and they would give us a clue to why we have become the person we have become. The past good and the past bad are all part of our making and becoming and they are important. They won’t change who we are, but they will help us understand both the good and the bad about us – for all have both and bad about us.

So what does all this mean? To me it means that even as much as I might want to walk in another’s shoes and see through that person’s eyes in order to try to understand that person’s actions, it means that it is even more important that I understand what in the past has brought me to today. It will help me understand the good that I do and, hopefully, to change a behavior that is rooted in the past but can and must be changed for the better.

Not being able to walk in another’s shoes or see through that person’s eyes does not allow us give that person a pass on present wrong behavior no does it give others a pass on our wrong behavior because they can’t walk in our shoes or see with our eyes. Understanding bad behavior is only a start. The hard part is the changing it for the good.

AN HONOR AND A PRIVILEGE

This past Friday I was home alone for several hours. Arlena was in Maryland Carmine-sitting – our youngest daughter’s Shih Tzu – while she and her husband and our youngest grandson (Carter) where frolicking on Myrtle Beach. Our Subaru was at the dealer getting its 60,000-mile-checkup. And, oh, by the way, a new set of tires if we wanted it to pass inspection. Why not? What’s another $550 (plus tax, of course) added on to the cost of the checkup – which is going to be more than the cost of the tires? I mean, it’s only money and we do get some cash back from using our credit card.

So while I was waiting for all this to be done, which would take a good five hours or more, I Googled the John McCain Funeral. It was almost four hours of being uplifted, renewed, with lots of smiles and tears. The Service – the dignified liturgy, the wonderful music, the military pomp and circumstance, and especially the words of those who spoke, all of it—made me proud to be an American.

It was a delayed honor and privilege to watch the celebration of the life of a man who epitomized greatness: a flawed man, like all of us, to be sure, but who, in spite of those flaws and failings and shortcomings, made us a better people. It was also a needed reminder of who we are as a country: a diverse group of people, a melting pot, a salad bowl, of all sorts and conditions of people, each and every one of us who, from not too far back and from way, way back, came here from somewhere else to make us what we are: a model to the rest of the world.

The Service gave me hope, which sometimes these days seems so tenuous, that the divisions that now plague us and which seem to be delightfully fostered by our elected leaders, can somehow be put aside to work for the betterment of everyone and not just for the select few. It gave me a little more confidence that those gathered in the National Cathedral could not and did not disagree with John McCain’s vision and would begin to do the work, the very hard work, needed to make that vision a reality.

As Abraham Lincoln once observed, there are better angels among us. John McCain was one of them. But those angels live in each one of us. We, each and every one of us, have the honor and the privilege to do what we know we need to do to make this vision come to fulfillment. John McCain did what he could do. The speakers reminded us of that in no uncertain and unapologetic terms. They also reminded us that that vision and that responsibility did not die with John McCain.

Some might say that that is an impossibility. John McCain, as those who knew him well attested, would use some very colorful and, in the case, appropriate language, to tell us that we are wrong. There will always be disagreements. That is a fact of life. But there need not be the divisiveness that now seems so pervasive. We can do better because we are better. And so we must. It is are honor and privilege to do so.

I DO/DON'T UNDERSTAND

Why is it, I often wonder, that some of the best people I know, some of the kindest and most caring people around, seem to suffer so much, whether physically, mentally, spiritually or a combination of some or all? Then, on the other hand, are those people who are outwardly not so good, obviously sinful and selfish people, who seemed to have life by the tail, who have an abundance of the world’s goods and could care less about their actions and the harm those actions inflict on innocent people.

It just doesn’t seem fair especially when I truly believe that when we die here on earth, we are immediately alive with God forever: no hell for those who seem to deserve it and no purgatory for the rest of us, sinners that we all are. Thus, contemplating Hitler walking alongside Francis of Assisi in eternity is sometimes both hard to imagine and even more difficult to accept, but I still believe it to be true.

In many ways it has little or nothing to do with The Problem of Evil, to capitalize the phrase and to note that that issue is one of the great God-questions. If God is All-Good, and if God is All-Powerful, why does God allow bad things to happen to good people let alone bad things to happen to anyone? The answer, of course, is free will. Without it we are robots. With it we can do all manner of evil and often do.

The real issue is why some people suffer more than they deserve. Yes, we all bring suffering upon ourselves when we do that which we know we should not do. When we eat too much, drink too much, drive to fast, place ourselves foolishly in harm’s way, we deserve the pain and suffering that follows. But does anyone deserve to be ravaged by cancer or become blind or deaf or, well, the list is long?

To say that our reward will be great in heaven if we suffer in such a way does not make the suffering any less painful. Undeserved punishment is still undeserved and the promise of a later reward is of little or no consolation in the meantime. In the meantime, in the here-and-now, we believers are confronted with God-questions that we cannot answer, with situations that we do and don’t understand.

What we are left with is a faith being tested sometimes every minute of every day. We may be tempted at times to chuck it all in and determine that there is no God, that heaven is foolishness, that when we are done with this life, we are done. Sometimes that seems to make so much sense especially when there seems to be no logical or sensible or even sane answer to our questions.

But we can’t go there. Something inside us says that even though we do not understand why things happen the way they do, we still believe. Yes, the belief gets shaken to its very core sometimes, and rightly so. But we hang on. And why do we hang on? Because, very simply, we won’t let go of God and God won’t let go of us. That’s why.

THE JOURNEY NEVER ENDS

My personal belief is that when we die, physically die, in this life, we are immediately with God forever in the life to come, whatever that life is or, perhaps, wherever it is. We believers call that state of life we move into after death “heaven”.  Yet no one knows what that life is like. Those who have had a near-death experience, which I believe are real, have only received a momentary glimpse of the life to come. What that full life is like, we have no clue.

Even Paul, who truly believed in life after physical death could only state that “no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the human heart conceived, what God has prepared” for us.” (1 Cor. 2:9) The life to come is simply beyond our human imaginations. We may use them at times especially when we think about those whom we have loved who are now living that new life, imagining, wondering what they are now experiencing and believing that it can’t get any better than that for them and, eventually, for us.

Yet between now and then, there is a life still to lead. It is a journey we are on that never ends until this physical life ends. This journey is not about doing everything Jesus says we should do in order to earn that next life, rather it is about being a disciple of Jesus. Being guaranteed heaven when we die does not give us a pass to do whatever we want in this life. In fact, for us believers, it almost, if not, often makes this journey even more difficult for us.

Those who believe that when this physical life ends, there is nothing, have no moral obligation to do good or refrain from doing what is not good. Whatever the consequences of their behavior is will be played out as the results of that behavior and be played out in this life. Of course, the same can be said for us who are believers. We pay for our sins in this life in this life and we are rewarded for our good behavior in this in this life. Payment does not await us in the life to come.

So what’s the difference? It’s all about discipleship. It is about teaching other about what we believe by the way we live our lives. It’s not about being rewarded for our good deeds either in the here-and-now or in the life to come. Nor is it about not doing good because we are afraid of being punished for our misdeeds sooner or later. It is about dedicating our life so that each day we become more and more like Jesus.

It is also about knowing we will never be perfect, not in this life anyway. No one is. No one ever was except the One whose disciple we are. But that is not an excuse for not trying to be our best each day. When we have not, what we have learned is that we have suffered pain for our selfishness. And when we have, we have learned that we were rewarded some home in some way.

Life in this life is a journey that never ends. In the meantime, heaven can wait.

WE BELIEVE WHAT WE WANT TO BELIEVE

Fake news. Conspiracy theories. Collusion. The moon landing was filmed on a Hollywood back lot. The world is flat. There was no Holocaust. There is no god/God. There is a God. There are many gods. Jesus was not God. Jesus was married to Mary Magdalene. Jesus was raised from the dead. Jesus was not raised. The list is endless, is it not? Each of us can add to it. And we do.

We watch the news. Or do we? It has almost gotten to the point where we do not know what to believe or whom to believe. Perhaps it has always been that way. Truth hucksters have been around from time immemorial. The snake oil salesmen we see depicted in old cowboy movies are only one version of the snake oil salesmen today who are trying to sell us their version of the truth.

So how did they get away with it back then, all those back-thens? The same way they do today. How is that possible? Very simply: we believe what we want to believe. If we want to believe that that bottle of whatever it is can cure us of some malady, we’ll purchase the bottle, take the medicine and trust that it will work. If we want to believe what someone is telling us is the truth and that the opposite is not the truth, we will believe it trusting that the truth is being told.

When that snake oil turns out to be worthless and the truth we believed to be true turns out to be a lie, when reality sets in, then what? Whom do we now trust? Or does what happen is that we no longer trust anyone? It happens so easily. Someone we trust deceives us and we either wonder if we can now trust anyone or we become cynical when someone tells us that we can trust what is being said.

All that said, the bottom line still remains the same. We believe what we want to believe because what we want to believe fits who we are. If we want to believe that most people are good, we will be trusting. If we want to believe that everyone or the government or our boss is out to get us, we will believe that without any proof or because of some slight or because (fill in the blank).

And so when we turn on the news and we hear others asserting what we believe is false, we wonder how they came to believe that nonsense. They believe it because they want to believe it. And if they asked us why we believe what they consider nonsense, we would have to reply in the same way: we want to believe it.

So how do we know what to believe? How do we know what is the truth and who is telling the truth? Do all we have to go on is what we personally believe until the truth comes out as it always does sooner or later? As with what we believe about God, so with everything else we believe: the truth will all come out in the end. That’s not much consolation but it may all we have at the present moment in time.

WEST POINT

Blessed and thankful once again. Arlena and I recently returned from a bus tour that took us to many Revolutionary War sites in New York and New England where the War really got started. We began, however, at the site that was, in essence, the end of the War, namely Washington’s Headquarters in Newburgh, New York. Then we headed to what was one of the later results of that War: West Point.

Thomas Jefferson, almost immediately after his inauguration, directed that plans begin to establish a military academy at West Point, West Point being a strategic site overlooking the Hudson River during the War. Our stop there was probably the highlight of the tour, at least for me. What I remember most was one of the first things I laid my eyes on. We walked into the Visitor’s Center. I looked up and on the wall were pictures of five alumni in their cadet uniforms: Ulysses Grant, John Joseph Pershing, Douglas MacArthur, Dwight David Eisenhower and Omar Nelson Bradley. Wow!

Perhaps for my children and grandchildren these names mean very little. Even for me on a personal level there is little connection. The wars these men fought in and led were over before I learned about them. Eisenhower was President during most of my teenage years but there was no real connection. And there still is not. But that is not the point and that is not what made me stand there in awe as I looked up at their portraits.

No one knew, not even these men themselves, how their lives would turn out after they graduated and entered the military. They could not even have imagined it. Yes, they may have dreamed of becoming a general or leading a great army into battle as they were completing their studies, but those would only be dreams. My guess is that when they looked back on their careers, even then they could not believe who that young cadet in that picture became.

And then I thought of my children and especially my grandchildren, none of whom at this point in their lives has a similar photograph. They’re still too young. And then I thought of myself and my college graduation picture. Yes, I had a pretty good idea what my life would be like, dressed in my seminary cassock. But even those thoughts and dreams, in hindsight, were way off the mark.

Real life always gets in the way of our dreams and plans and expectations. It is what we do with that life as it comes our way that is important. Grant failed in almost everything he did until he became General of the Army of the Potomac. Eisenhower was a fun-loving cadet who once showed up for roll-call without his pants and who graduated in the middle of his class. Who knew?

Who knows about what life will bring? No one, that’s who. But what we do know is that, dreams notwithstanding, if we do the best we can each day, we’ll be okay.  Okay?

WE’RE ALL FAILURES

Who of us hasn’t failed at something sometime in our lives? In fact, if we are honest with ourselves, we have failed many, many times. No one is perfect. Even the best of the best failed regularly. Ty Cobb was the best hitter of all time in baseball. His career batting average was .367. That is almost unheard of these days. And yet, as great a hitter as Cobb was, he still failed to get a hit more the six out of every ten times he came to bat. If you fail only seven out of every ten times over a career, you’re Hall of Fame material.

Imagine that: being considered the best in baseball when you fail that often! Get only three out of ten questions on an exam and you fail miserably. Getting six of them correct just might get you a D. Granted I am comparing apples with street cars, but the point still holds: we all fail and we fail much of the time. What we fail at is living up to our potential, whatever that potential is.

That means two realities. First, we can allow ourselves to be satisfied with not doing our best because no one does his or her best all of the time. What’s a little failure here now and then, we may ask ourselves. We all come up short, so what’s the big deal? It’s easy to fall into that trap of allowing ourselves to settle for something that is less than our best. My guess is that if you are like me, you’ve done that settling on occasion, maybe on too many occasions.

On the other hand, always giving it our best shot even though we might come up a little short is what we should expect, even demand, of ourselves. The great athletes always get angry with themselves when they fail to get a hit. What they do not do is either shrug their shoulders and not care or allow that failure to so consume them that they get stuck in their tracks and, thus, continue to fail.

To be sure, failure is good for the soul and the psyche. First of all, it reminds us that we just might not be as good as we think we are. That can and should keep us humble. Second, it allows us to learn from our mistakes, our failures. Good hitters, when they fail to get a hit, go back to the dugout to reflect about why they did not. Sometimes it was indeed their fault. And sometimes the other guy, the pitcher or his teammates, just happened to be a little better on that occasion.

It happens. We fail because we are not good enough at that moment. We fail because others are better at that moment. We fail because we did not give our best. We succeed because we were good enough and because we gave it our best. What we need to do, at least every once in a while, both after failures and after successes, is to take a moment to reflect on why we failed or why we succeeded.

If and when we do that, what we will discover over time is that our failures become less and our successes become more. But we will still continue to fail and continue to learn.