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.