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WEDNESDAY THOUGHT 9/29/10

UNBRILLIANCE! 

Among my long list of flaws is an ego-based desire to be brilliant and witty.  I love being able to look back on something I’ve written in one of my daily ramblings and say, “Oh, my, how clever!”  

Well, today, zippo!  I guess you could say I am blessed with unbrilliance.  No witty stream of smoothly flowing words.  No deep and penetrating insight.  No angst, either, that I must deliver.  Instead, something better than that:  just a quiet sense of good enough, a sense that just being myself – flawed, clay-footed, stiff-necked, gnarly and scarred, as well as fairly unbrilliant – is just fine.  

My point:  We don’t have to chase God, show off for Him or try to impress Him.  Nor do we have to find the just-right, perfect words to share His story and spread the Word.  Sometimes good enough is more than enough. – jri

TUESDAY THOUGHT 9/28/10

FAITH & CONFUSION 

Why do we all tend to struggle with faith and understanding God?  I found what, to me at least, is one of the best explanations of the paradox of faith, from the Catholic mystic, Thomas Merton.  

So, I’m just going to shut up here and invite you to let the paradoxes of our faith flow over you.  God bless.  – jri

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This matter of “salvation” is, when seen intuitively, a very simple thing.  But when we analyze it, it turns into a complex tangle of paradoxes.   

We become ourselves by dying to ourselves.  We gain only what we give up, and if we give up everything we gain everything. 

We cannot find ourselves within ourselves, but only in others, yet at the same time before we can go out to others we must first find ourselves.

We must forget ourselves in order to become truly conscious of who we are.  The best way to love ourselves is to love others, yet we cannot love others unless we love ourselves since it is written, “Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.”  But if we love ourselves in the wrong way, we become incapable of loving anybody else.  And indeed when we love ourselves wrongly we hate ourselves; it we hate ourselves we cannot help hating others….

As for this “finding” of God, we cannot even look for Him unless we have already found Him, and we cannot find Him unless he has first found us.

      — Thomas Merton  (No Man Is An Island)

THURSDAY THOUGHT 9/23/10

A SOFT & GENTLE WHISPER 

As I approach the following – describing a soul-soaring moment of pure joy that I shall carry with me for a long, long time – I risk sounding superstitious or trivial. But here goes.

 I was making final preparation for a presentation, “A Tribute to Women of Faith & Strength,” which I am sharing with an Episcopal diocesan group early next month.  Part of it, naturally, includes a discussion of Mary, the mother of Our Lord.  In it, I describe what must have been a very close, sometimes playful, sometimes typical mother-son relationship.  I focus on how Jesus sassed his mother when she mentioned that the wine had run out at the wedding at Cana, saying “Women, what concern is that to you or me?” (John 2:4) and how she must have given Him “the look” and then not even bothered to reply, turning instead to the servants.

While working on the presentation, I opened my desk drawer, one I open perhaps half a dozen times each day.  It contains an assortment of pens, pencils, paper clips, keys that have long since lost their locks, scratch pads, nail clippers, etc.  

As I pulled out a large paper clip and closed the drawer, several small objects popped out and landed on the floor.  Along with a few paper clips was a small metal object, the size of my pinky nail, that I do not recall ever having seen before. 

It was a tiny, oval, child-size medal of the Virgin Mary.  I stared at it, stunned at the “coincidence” of receiving this gift on the day I was working on my presentation.  I assume – but do not recall – that I had found it somewhere years ago and put it in the drawer for safe keeping. 

My point:  I have no point today.  Just sharing what some, including myself, might call a God Wink (or maybe a Mary Wink), a gentle, stop-me-dead-in-my-tracks whisper (again, no burning bush!) that seemed to say, “I approve.” 

God bless and thank you for letting me share this with you.   

TUESDAY THOUGHT 9/21/10

ON THE BIBLE

This one is a bit of a rambler, so please be patient:  When younger, I was a man of letters who loved literature and books.  I’m reminded of that this week as I prepare to move to a new house and am packing up box after box of these old and pleasant friends.

This also reminded me that the Bible has also become one of those friends.  I try to read from it every morning.  I also take notes, underline and add margin scribbles.  My Bible is a working manual, dog-eared, with a binding that is threatening to separate any time now.  Actually, I have several Bibles, and the more weathered and worn they become, the closer my personal attachment to them.

This morning, I turned a page during my daily reading and found a verse that had become very special to me during some very tough times, when I was learning to put my trust in the Lord: “In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight” (Proverbs 3:6)  It was like a warm reminder from an old friend, and it made me smile.

My point:  The Good Book is a pretty good book.  If you don’t spend some time with it every day (just 10 or 15 minutes), I suggest you give it a try. And don’t look for burning-bush revelations, but a growing awareness  – bit by bit over time – of an understanding and truth that goes far beyond other great works of literature.  God bless.  – jri

FRIDAY THOUGHT 9/17/10 — THE DAY MY FATHER DIED…

[My father died eight years ago this coming Sunday, September 19, 2002.  That day – and the years leading up to it – have evolved into my presentation and booklet, “The Day My Father Died Was One of the Best Days of My Life” (available October 1^st).  The following is a re-run of something I wrote about that day several years go.]   

WEDNESDAY THOUGHT 4/23/08:  How I lost 50 pounds of anger under the 8-day plan and taught my father to say I love you:  Though my father was a brilliant and caring doctor, he tended to be a melancholy, unpleasant person.  I didn’t like him much.  But when I was in my mid-30s, I decided that I didn’t want to have any remorse at his funeral (which didn’t happen until 25 years later, by the way), so I put him on the 8-day plan.  This simply meant that I’d call him every eight days.  (I think that’s the same one my kids have me on today. Hmmm.)
 
It worked out well, and I went from tolerating him to getting along with him to actually appreciating his many good points.  At the end of one call, almost on a whim, I concluded with, “Love ya, Pop.”  He grumbled and said, “Take care.  Thanks for calling.”  I started doing this every week.  Eventually, he mumbled, “I love you, too.”  On the day of his death, knowing he was about to die (though he didn’t tell me), he called me.  His last words were, “Remember that I love you.”  I got word an hour later that he had died.  Looking back on it, not only did I teach my father how to say I love you, but I also learned to love him in return — a very nice bonus. 
 
The point of this wordy rambling:  Even when our motives are a bit suspect, by doing the right thing, we can make a difference.  And in so doing, we not only can change the world, but we can transform ourselves as well.  So, if I were giving advice, I’d say: Call someone you love today and let him or her know.  God bless and enjoy.  — jri
 
“I don’t find it necessary to forgive my parents
for the mistakes they made.  It is no sin to be
human.  They were amateurs in a demanding
game where even experts can’t always get it
right.”
        –    Harold S. Kushner
               (How Good Do We Have to Be) 

WEDNESDAY THOUGHT 9/15/10

A JOYOUS, PRIMATIVE FAITH 

I’m an analyzer, a ponderer.  As my mother once did, if I had a hen, I’d drive it to distraction – turning it up and over and around and about – looking for where those darn eggs really came from.

Not so my Grandmother Stella.  Barely educated, born in the Naples region of Italy, who came to America, married, raised six children, and lived the rest of her life in Brooklyn, she took her faith on faith.  She believed.  She worked hard, went to Mass every morning, said the rosary every evening, rarely raised her voice (but when she spoke in her gentle voice, even her tough husband, Mike, paid attention).  She was a woman of pure and simple faith and, I suspect, a good and personal friend of the Virgin Mary.  

My point:  Faith does not need to be analyzed, studied or understood … and trust me, I’m still working on NOT working on this, if you catch my drift.  It seems to me that, at its best, faith is simply taken on faith – savored, enjoyed, not questioned.  – jri

TUESDAY THOUGHT 9/14/10

AT WAR WITH PEACE 

I want to share what I think is an amazing phenomenon I am going through right now.  After several years of soul-wrenching troubles and woes and a lifetime of savoring the mud-blood-and-tears of the battle, I literally have not a single problem in my life.  Oh, I could use more money, but other than that: faith, forgiveness, health, good community, a wondrous faith home, children and grandchildren who are all healthy and at peace, a life-affirming and faith-affirming relationship with a good and beautiful woman. 

BUT… realizing this, I found myself this last weekend a nervous, restless wreck, as if wondering when the next shoe would drop.  I looked for reasons to worry, began contemplating negative choices just to get back to the comfort of a sword-wielding world filled with challenges and troubles. 

My point:  I barely understand it myself, but I have come to realize that sometimes we are afraid of joy and peace.  We fight it; we reject it, even though it is a gift God offers us each and every day, even with the usual dose of troubles and pain that come with life.  The battle is so much easier.  I don’t know if you’re as odd as I am, but if so, I invite you to join me in a day of celebration — pure, worry-free joy, regardless of circumstances we  encounter or inner fears that sneak up on us.  Because, as for me, I’m going for the light, for peace and joy … whether I like it or not! – jri 

THURSDAY THOUGHT 9/9/10

 A LONG, WINDING & UNEVEN ROAD

Ever ride with a new driver?  As the novice attempts to get used to the accelerator and gas pedal, you can end up with whiplash — being thrown back into your seat one moment, almost into the windshield the next. 

For many of us, it’s that way with faith.  We lurch along, sometimes stumbling and falling flat on our faces, sometimes soaring with a soul that secretly whispers, “Oh, boy, I’ve got it, finally!” only to trip and go sprawling a moment later.  At the same time, we either hit the gas too hard and want to take charge or find ourselves sitting back, putting it on speed control, and expecting God to do it all.  

My point:  There’s no straight-line, super highway on our faith journeys.  I believe we are meant to travel the route God chooses for us … but it is a journey of discovery:  He doesn’t give us the turn-by-turn MapQuest directions.  That journey may take us along breathtaking vistas of spiritual awakening or slogging through swamps of doubt and suffering.  Rather than always trying to figure out what’s next, or even the spiritual speed limit, I would suggest we just enjoy the trip … wherever it takes us. – jri 

I have sought the truth since my late teen years.  My travels brought me from rote recitation of God’s words, to too-busy-playing indifference, to smug atheism, to clear-headed agnosticism, to (surprised by joy!) honest and wondrous discovery.  Even now, of course, my foot can be so uneven on the gas pedal and brake.  Still, each year, my spiritual vehicle seems to swerve and lurch less and less.  Enjoy the trip and may this day bring you deep peace and great joy.  God bless.

WEDNESDAY THOUGHT 9/1/10

A GOD OF FRIENDSHIP

I think my biggest problem with God over the years was that I’d rather go to hell than submit and kneel to a demanding, angry God.  I wasn’t going to be cowed into obedience.  The more I felt he wanted to push me to my knees, the more stiff-necked I became.  I think I’ve finally figured out that this junkyard dog, nasty god-image (yes, lower case here) reflected my life view (rough, tough and very defensive) more than anything. 

Today, having let peace and trust and love into my life, along with loving, caring people, I find – guess what?  Surprise!  Surprise! – that the God I’ve been wrestling with is a God of love and friendship.  (He could have crushed me in an instant, but never pinned me or imposed upon me.)  I like this guy … like Him a lot.  And I’m finding that Jesus is more big bro and buddy who I can admire and look up to than judge of my many foibles and flaws. Pretty neat. 

My point:  Not all that sure, except that I’m very much enjoying (finally!) this voyage of discovery … learning and seeing things I’d never imagined.  And it wasn’t so much that God was distant or angry, but that I was blocking Him, refusing to let Him in.  Oh, and btw, when I kneel down in prayer, it is with respect and joy.  Yes, I do sometimes struggle still with the idea of a God of love and friendship, but I am getting to genuinely like and trust this God of mine. – jri