NATURE AND NURTURE

All four of my grandparents were born and raised in Italy. They migrated to this country in the early 1900s to begin and raise their families. When others learn this about me and then discover that I do not like garlic, wine or opera, they shake their heads in disbelief. They assume, I assume, that there must be a defective gene in my makeup. Is it not the nature of an Italian to love all three? My siblings love garlic and drink a little wine now and then, but I’ve never asked them about opera. Am I the odd man out or simply odd?

Perhaps if my parents liked garlic and wine and listened to the opera on the radio when I was growing up, they might have nurtured me into loving or at least liking all three. But they did not either like or nurture or encourage. My Dad, when he was told that he had to learn to like hard liquor simply asked “Why?” Why do we have to learn to like something we don’t like, like garlic, opera or wine?

The truth is that both nature and nurture play a very big part in who we are. I naturally do not like garlic. I cannot explain why I do not like it just as I cannot explain why I do not like liver, Brussel sprouts or sushi. On the other hand, I don’t think I came out of the womb being a bleeding-heart liberal. I believe my parents nurtured me in that regard. By nature we are all born good because our Creator is good. But we can be nurtured to be bad.

Nature and nurture: is one more important than another in how we turn out as individuals? I really do not know the answer to that question and leave it to those who have professional expertise in that area of human make up and the human condition. Yet it is our fundamental nature and how we were nurtured that explain why two people looking at the same situation can have opposing opinions, sometimes diametrically opposing views.

The issue becomes even more confusing when siblings, raised in the same household, nurtured by the same parents, can be so different when it comes to likes and dislikes, to religion and politics, to, well the list is long. It is those differences that make life so fascinating and yet so difficult, so enjoyable and yet so painful. In my family it is those differences that make conversation around the dinner table loud and long and leaves my wife shaking her head because she was raised where only one conversation at a time goes on and not three or four.

Nevertheless, even if we concede the fact that we are who we are because of our nature and our nurture, that truth in and of itself, does not excuse us from doing what is inherently wrong. Not only does the devil not make me do it or say it, neither does my nature or nurture. As old as I am I can learn to like garlic, wine and the opera if I so choose to do so.

I can also learn to be more kind and caring towards those with whom I disagree. I will never understand why they believe what they believe and they will never understand me. That is always frustrating and even maddening, but it is what it is. Sometimes, sad to say, there is no happy ending other than to agree to disagree. For me that leaves a garlicky taste in my mouth.

BEING RIGHT IS SOMETIMES WRONG

There have been times in my ministry when I have been visiting a parishioner in the hospital who was very, very ill. And while I was at that person’s bedside, the doctor came in to speak to him or her. When I tried to excuse myself so that the doctor could have private time with the patient, the doctor often said, “No, Father, you can stay.” And so I stayed. What I heard when I stayed was sometimes very honest but not what I thought should have been said.

Those were the times when the doctor was brutally factual with the patient. He cut no quarters, did not soften what he said and he certainly did not tell anything but the truth. “The cancer is malignant and inoperable and you only have a few weeks to live,” he said. “The paralysis in permanent and will never be lessened.” I’ve heard others in a similar vein. None provided any hope for the patient.

As a priest I deal in hope. Without hope, we cannot go on. We will very easily simply give up if we believe all hope is lost. However, even if that hope is only a small sliver, at least it is that, and with that we can go on. When I heard those hopeless diagnoses that came from those doctors’ lips, I believed while they may have been right in what they were saying, they were wrong to say it.

Yes, we need to know the truth. But when the truth will not change anything, when the truth will not allow us to hang on waiting for a miracle, then why destroy another’s bit of hope? Not only does offering a bit of hope help the patient, it also helps the family as well. They need a bit of hope too even if they know they are really hoping against hope. It is human nature to do so.

Years ago I attended a local ministerial gathering where the featured speaker was the hospital chaplain. He said, rather bluntly, “You know, don’t you, that the doctors think we’re just a bunch of clowns.” At first I was very insulted. But the more I thought about it, the more I came to believe it was a compliment even if back-handed. For is not a clown someone who lifts up spirits, who, in truth, is a symbol of hope?

But, then, aren’t we all? Is not that one of the responsibilities we have as Christians, to be bearers of hope, to lift up spirits? Yes, there are times when we are called to tell it like it is. But there are also times when we don’t have to do so. There are times when telling the truth only makes things worse, when being right is the wrong time.

Those times don’t happen all that often, thankfully. I didn’t take the doctors to task who were brutally honest with their patients. I just wish they had not been so, that they could have found words of hope; and if they could not have done that, they could have at least understood that that moment was the wrong time to be right. There may never be a right time, but there are times when it is the wrong time to be right.

DIVINE PROVIDENCE?

A while back I received an invitation to the ordination to the priesthood of a colleague. The invitation announced that the bishop who was to do the ordaining was the bishop of that Bishop’s diocese “by Divine Providence”. I disagree. I also disagreed with another colleague who had been in the election process and was a final candidate to be called to be the bishop. When the elections results came in and he was not elected, he sent a kind email to all those who had supported and prayed for him saying that the result of the election was the result of the Holy Spirit – in other words, by Divine Providence.

As I said, I disagree on both accounts. Episcopal elections, the calling of Rectors, the choosing of the Pope, the election of the President of the United States, none of these are the result of Divine Providence. They are all the work and result of what we human beings do and not do. If we honestly and truly want to rely solely on Divine Providence in any election of any kind at any level, religious or secular, all we need do is place in a container the names of every individual qualified by age and then draw out one name. We would then conclude that the choice was the result of Divine Providence if we were believers. Non-believers might say that it was simply dumb luck.

The danger in believing that any election result is the work of Divine Providence is to conclude that everything that person then does must also be the will of Divine Providence as well. But we know better, or at least we should. I hope none of the congregations that have called/elected me to be their Rector ever thought that I knew God’s will firsthand and that everything that I said and did was in accordance with that will. I also hope they believed I was called not because it was God’s will but because I was merely the best candidate among a list of candidates. I may have also simply been the best of an extremely bad lot.

To be sure it would be wonderful if we knew what the will of God is for every decision we make. It would be even better if, knowing that will, we actually fulfilled it each and every time. But we do and we don’t. There are times when we know exactly what it is God wants us to do but we still refrain from doing it. That’s what sin is. Sin is knowing what we should do or not do and then not acting accordingly.

We in the Church really want to believe that our leaders have been specifically chosen for us by God. But we have seen our leaders do some of the most ungodly deeds – all in the name of God, of course. Somehow they must have come to believe that they were chosen by Divine Providence and not because they knew how to work the election game.

The Holy Spirit is indeed alive and well and works in deed in and through you and me. Nevertheless, we need be careful when we claim that the works we do are the works of the Holy Spirit ordered by Divine Providence. Enough damage has been done already by thinking that way and, even worse, actually believing it.

WHY EVERYONE DOESN’T AGREE WITH ME

While I am serving as Priest-in-Charge in Kittanning, I spend two nights a week at the Quality Inn. It’s no 4-Star motel by any means, but it is fine for me: decent breakfast, small exercise room where I can spend some time on the elliptical to burn some calories, good bed. Nothing fancy. Many of the men working the gas fields stay there as well. But since they work twelve-hour shifts, I usually see them coming or going. No conversations but only a nod of recognition or a “good morning”.

The only person I have any semblance of a conversation with is the manager, Michael, who works the day shift, seven-to-three.  But we don’t talk much anymore, not in depth anyway. Michael has FOX news on all the time, which drives a liberal like me up the wall. A while back I said something about how I had lost all respect for the Republican Party back in 2008 when they nominated a totally unprepared person (in my humble opinion) to be Vice-President. His first response was, “Look what we got” (meaning President Obama) and then, “Let’s not talk politics.” We no longer do.

Nevertheless, I still wonder why Michael can’t see what I see, why he doesn’t agree with me about politics. To me what I see is perfectly clear and obvious. Can’t he see that? Of course, on the other hand, internally he is probably asking me those same questions. We both look at the same situation and see things almost the polar opposite. I wonder how this can be. Why can two people see the same thing and yet not agree on what they are seeing or certainly, when I am one of those two, not see what I see?

The world would be so much better, again in my humble opinion, if everyone saw what I see. There would be less fights, if any, no disagreements. Life would be pleasant and we could get on with solving the world’s problems because we would all be on the same page. What a wonderful would that would be!

 

But that would be a fairytale world simply because no two people have the same experiences. And it is those life experiences that color how we view the world and thus what we believe and how we should act. Michael obviously believes what he believes to be true based on his experiences: single, Navy veteran, under VA care because of an injury suffered when he was on active duty: his list is long. I would find myself nowhere on that list just as he would find himself nowhere on my list.

It is that list of personal experiences that make each of us so different and why we can find ourselves in total disagreement about the same issue. I know that. We all know that. We also know that, when we are open to hear what another has experienced and why that person sees what he sees, we can at least agree to disagree in peace. Unfortunately, tragically, as the mess in the Middle East exemplifies, that does not always happen. Fortunately for Michael and me, agreeing to not talk politics makes our conversations peaceful if not, at times, inane. But I still wish he would agree with me politically.

NOBODY KNOWS….

Remember the old spiritual that begins “Nobody knows the trouble I've seen. Nobody knows my sorrow”? On the one hand, that is true. On the other, it is not. We’ve all seen and experienced trouble and sorrow in our lives. There are no exceptions. And we will continue to experience them till the day we die. Thankfully, most of the troubles and sorrows that come our way are minor, mere blips on the road from birth through life till we die.

Yes, even those blips, as short as they are, can be quite painful and the memory of them quite lasting. We do our best to avoid them; and when we cannot, we do our best to cope with them. That is all we can do and that is all we are expected to do, no more and no less. It, again, is all part of life, part of living in this sinful and broken world in which we do and which we cannot avoid or escape.

Back to the spiritual: it is correct to say that nobody knows the trouble we’ve seen. Nobody knows the sorrows we have experienced. Those troubles and those sorrows are our own and no one else’s. Others may have had similar experiences, but they have not had our experiences. Two people may have both lost a spouse through, for instance, cancer. Both had similar experiences but not the same experience. How each dealt with that experience was unique. No one else has dealt with it in the exact same way or had the exact same experiences and no one else ever will.

All that is why we can and never should say to another, “I know what you are going through.” No, we do not. We may have been there, as they say; but we have not been exactly where that person is now. All we can do is be there with that person as he or she suffers and is in pain. Words, any and all words, words of consolation, understanding, comfort, will all fall short.

But the reason that we are there with the one in pain is that we have been there ourselves. We do know trouble and sorrow. We have not been immune. We have not escaped what happens to every human being. We are not an exception. And so we do know, in a very real way, something of what that person we love and care about is going through at that moment in his or her life.

The danger, of course, when we believe that no one knows our pain, our sorrows, our troubles; when we think we must be being punished because we hurt so much – the danger is that we will push everyone away and allow ourselves to wallow in our sorrow. This is not to denigrate the pain we are in. It is simply to say that the reason why there are those who want to be with us is that they have been through something similar to what we are going through. They cannot undo what was done nor can they take away our pain. But they do know pain and sorrow and they are there to help us get through it as others, who also knew pain and sorrow, helped us. We are never alone unless we choose to be.

SELECTIVE MEMORY

My mother-in-law, who is 92, has a very selective memory. As with each one of us as we grow older, there are times, which frustratingly get more frequent the older we get, when we have great difficulty remembering something or someone we think we would or should never forget. But we do. The memory is somewhere back there in our brain; but at the moment we want to recall that piece of information, it takes too long to come front and center. That’s not selective memory. It is simply a momentary loss of memory.

Selective memory is when we choose to remember what we choose to remember and forget what we choose to forget. My mother-in-law’s selective memory is fascinating. She has been married twice and buried both spouses. To be honest, neither was a marriage made in heaven. At times it seemed like a marriage, well, let’s not go there. On second thought, let’s, because it makes my point.

Both husbands were WWII sailors in the South Pacific and both came home, although she did not know it at the time, with what we now know as PTSD: Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Both were shell-shocked by what they experienced and that shock stayed with them the rest of their lives and, in the process, made my mother-in-law’s life at times a pure hell. The fact that it was only in their deaths and her reflection back on their lives together does she now understand what was going on all those years.

Nevertheless, today, when she reflects back on those years, and talks about both spouses with Arlena and me, all we hear are the good times. The pain, the suffering, the hurt that was so much a part of the after effects of the War seem to have faded from her memory and, I believe, selectively so. But that is not easy to do so because it must be a choice. She has made that choice. For her and for us, that is a blessing.

One of the perverse joys Arlena and I have is when we talk with our daughters who are now raising their own children. Our grandchildren are now doing to our daughters what they did to us. The very same actions that drove us up the wall are now driving them crazy. They don’t remember their misdeeds, of course. Selective memory. But then we selectively choose to remember our daughters’ misdeeds and misadventures only when history is repeating itself in and through our grandchildren. That is also called “Parents’ revenge” and it is, again, perversely pleasurable.

We all have those painful memories stored somewhere in our brain. We can keep them up front and personal, allowing them to control our lives and our relationships or we can push them to the back and remember the good, as my mother-in-law has done with her husbands and as we are doing with our daughters. That is not to downplay the pain. It is simply to say that we have a choice with what we do with that remembered pain: we can continue to dwell on it and make the present even more painful or we can selectively remember the good so to enjoy life in the present. The choice is ours.

I NEVER WENT TO A PROM

Whenever I look back on my life, I find that there many things I never did that my peers did. I never went to a prom. I never joined a fraternity. I never got drunk with my buddies after our football team won the conference championship. I never went on a spring break. I also never worked a day in my life. All this is true because of the choices I made in my life and especially the one I made in 1957 when I went off to seminary as a high school freshman. As an aside and result, when what I do becomes work, I will retire for good.

When I do look back and reflect on what I missed, I do not do so with any regrets. The choices I made were the ones I made and not forced on me. Every choice we make has consequences. If we choose to do this, we will not be able to do that. For instance, there was no prom scheduled or even considered for those who were in training to become celibate priests. Why should there be?

Of course, most of those young men, my classmates, were never ordained. Do they rue the choice they made that denied them the opportunity to take a young lady to the prom? I doubt it; but even if they do, it’s all water over the dam. Besides, even if they missed all that I did, their lives were not irreparably scarred by the loss of such experiences. No one can experience it all nor should we want to. Life itself has its limitations and we are all subject to those limitations.

We know this to be true even though there are indeed times when we bemoan our fate because we never did something we think we would have liked to do back when we were willing and able to do it. Indeed there are those “For once in my life I would have liked to” moments. – going to a prom and the like. We all have them. But are we any worse or maybe even better because we did or did not experience them?

That may be a good question to ponder, but we will never really know. Sometimes we learn from our experiences and sometimes we do not. Of course the real issue when we are reminiscing about the past is that regretting the past, deeds done and left undone, experiences had and not had, often hinders us from living in the present and enjoying the present for exactly what it is: a present, a gift.

I have been blessed to be able to look back on my life, especially those formative years in seminary when all those “fun” and “normal” experiences my former grade school classmates were experiencing were forbidden to me, and know that I would not only not trade what I missed for what I learned and experienced and always be thankful. It was my choice as their life’s decisions were their choices.

The choices I have made, good and bad, have brought me to today. I rejoice in both, ruing neither the good experiences I missed not the mistakes I made. If I had made other choices, my life would not be what it is. I am thankful for what it is: no regrets.