Catholic Revolutionaries

Good Eats in Phoenix

2011-07-01T16:39:00.000-07:00

I have always enjoyed cooking and entertaining for friends and family. I enjoy finding new recipes, setting the table, and welcoming friends into my home. The laughter and conversation that happens when friends gather around a table and break bread together is truly a moment of grace.

In that way my transition into the kitchen of André House was very natural. On the other hand, cooking for 600 is a little different than cooking for six. André House is a hospitality center in downtown Phoenix. At André House, we provide basic need services to the homeless population. This includes clothing, showers, laundry, hygiene products, blankets, phone calls, Bibles and rosaries, backpacks, and sleeping bags. Our largest service each day is dinner where we average 600 trays of food per day.

In many ways 600 trays of food is very impersonal; each person and each tray becomes a number. Yet, at André House we work hard at creating a welcoming and personal atmosphere in the same way we would for a family dinner. The people we serve are truly our guests, our neighbors, and our friends.

We start each meal from scratch. Fresh vegetables picked up from the food bank, fresh bread donated from a bakery, and 40 pounds of frozen ground beef serves as the base for each meal. Each day we serve a fresh lettuce salad and many days we have a fruit salad as well. Anywhere from 20-40 volunteers come each day to chop 50 pounds of onions, slice 1200 slices of bread, wash lots of dishes, and stir the 30 gallon pots.

As you can imagine, there are many opportunities for things to go wrong. On Easter a few years ago we basted the Easter hams with hot chocolate instead of ham juice. It just gave the ham a little extra sweetness. About a month ago, I lit my hair on fire while attempting to light the large, gas burners. Luckily volunteers were nearby to help before the problem was out of hand. We also have our fair share of messes. Have you ever spilled 15 gallons of cooked oatmeal? It is a hot, sticky, runny mess.

Yet, everyday the blessings outweigh the stressors. I remember one night when a

guest showed up late to dinner and we were not able to serve him. Rather, another guest who had a tray of food asked for an empty tray. The guest who had food carefully and deliberately cut his hot dog in half, split his beans, potatoes, lettuce salad, fruit salad, and donut in exactly half and offered half his food to this late, yet hungry guest. Silently they shared a meal and truly broke bread together.

Moments like this are amazing reminders of the presence of God and God’s subtle workings in our lives.

On any given night as I walk through our main dinning room I can see small groups of friends sitting down together, praying together, and sharing their meal with smiles and laughter. It is not so different than when I sit down and share a meal with my friends.

Coloring Outside the Lines

2011-04-02T12:21:00.000-07:00

Scripture Reflection for the Fourth Sunday in Lent (April 3, 2011)
Scripture Readings:
1 Samual 16:1b, 6-7, 10-13a
Psalm 23: 1-3a, 3b-6
Eph 5:8-14
John 9:1-41

"This man is not from God, because he does not keep the sabbath.”

Throughout the Gospels, Jesus maintains a continual conversation with the religious leaders of his day. In this Sunday’s Gospel, Jesus heals a blind man on the Sabbath and the Pharisees question him for his actions.

I think it is important to remember that Jesus was a Jew. He grew up in the traditions and customs of the Jewish people. He called the temple His Father’s house. He worshiped in the synagogue on the Sabbath and celebrated Passover.

The Pharisees had painted a picture in their mind of what it meant to be Jewish. Anything that deviated from this picture was neither faithful to Judaism nor to God. Thinking inside the box is safe. The status quo is comfortable. Coloring inside the lines is easy.

Yet, Jesus never let his life be defined by the Pharisees. He constantly challenged the Pharisees to expand their ideas of what it meant to be a faith-filled servant. Jesus did not fit in the Pharisees’ picture. Jesus colored outside the lines. He loved his enemy, overturned the money tables, and healed on the Sabbath.

Some lines are good. They act as a guide, show us wisdom, and can help lead us into community with others. Yet, when lines become too rigid, they separate us from each. Rigid lines cause us to not be able to think of the world in a different way and can lead us to become unconscious of the decisions and actions we make each day.

Our faith is not a color-by-numbers assignment. Rather, God gives us a gigantic box of crayons. We have the options of different colors, different combinations, and different patterns. We are called to color outside the lines of class, gender, race, religion, age, peer groups, politics, and social and economic classes. As Jesus said, “we are to become like children” and our lives are to be a canvas full of color,
light, imagery, and the love of God and neighbor drawn out through radical action and love.

This week I invite you to reflect what lines you have drawn that you need to cross over. Where have unbending lines been drawn that inhibit faith? What areas of your life need color? Where in your life has Christ’s light not shined? Today is the day to break out your box of crayons and color your life to reflect the radical Gospel message of Christ.

Wherever You Need Me

2011-03-27T14:16:00.000-07:00

When I help coordinate a soup-line every Saturday, there comes a time when the preparation is nearing an end and I have to assign everyone jobs for the time during which we serve dinner. There are a number of jobs that are needed: working in the kitchen or family dining room, serving food or drinks, washing trays or taking out the trash. Some are more glamorous than others, but they are all very important. When assigning the jobs, I try to take into consideration people’s preferences but sometimes when I ask, the reply comes back: “Wherever you need me.”

As we celebrated the feast of the annunciation on Friday, that line came to mind: “Wherever you need me.” This is basically what Mary was saying with those words, “I am the handmaid of the Lord. May it be done to me according to your word.”
And this is how we too are called to respond to the Lord when He gives us various “assignments”, even when they may be unexpected or difficult. We are not to insist on serving God only in the way that we would like, but rather we agree to go wherever he needs us most. Like the volunteer who is just happy to be able to help in some way, it should be with joy that we receive the opportunity to be used by God, submitting our gifts, our time, and ourselves in service to Him.
It is indeed a great privilege to be a part of God’s work, and we know that whatever job he assigns us, it is an important one for which he will provide the grace and strength to do it well. May we continually reply to the Lord’s calling as Mary did upon receiving the angel’s message: “Wherever you need me.”

Oscar Romero

2011-03-24T01:00:00.000-07:00

Today marks the anniversary of the martyrdom of archbishop Oscar Romero. As a voice of justice and reconciliation in El Salvador during the political unrest of the 1970s, his words are still very relevant and challenging to us today. Romero was one of the few voices of peace, self-sacrificial love, and nonviolence in a country griped with fighting, hatred, fear, and suffering. He spoke much of social justice as well as the need to be internally liberated from the bondage of sin:

"The church does not want the liberation it preaches to be confused with liberations that are only political and temporal. The church does concern itself with the earthly liberation - it feels pain for those who suffer, for the illiterate, for those without electricity, without a roof, without a home.
"But it knows that human misfortune is found not only there. It is inside, deeper, in the heart - in sin. While supporting all the people's just claims, the church wants to lift those demands to a higher plane and free people from the chains that are sin, death, and hell.
"It wants to tell us to work to be truly free, with a freedom that begins in the heart: the freedom of God's children - the freedom that makes us into God's children by taking from us the chains of sin."

Since we are currently in the season of Lent, I thought it would be appropriate to include a quote of Romero speaking to his people about this liturgical season.

"This Lent, which we observe amid blood and sorrow, ought to presage a transfiguration of our people, a resurrection of our nation. The church invites us to a modern form of penance, of fasting and prayer - perennial Christian practices, but adapted to the circumstances of each people. Lenten fasting is not the same thing in those lands where people eat well as is a Lent among our third-world peoples, undernourished as the are, living in a perpetual Lent, always fasting. For those who eat well, Lent is a call to austerity, a call to give away in order to share with those in need. But in poor lands, in homes where there is hunger, Lent should be observed in order to give to the sacrifices that is everyday life the meaning of the cross.
"But it should not be out of a mistaken sense of resignation. God does not want that. Rather, feeling in one's own flesh the consequences of sin and injustice, one is stimulated to work for social justice and a genuine love for the poor. Our Lent should awaken a since of social justice.
"Let us observe our Lent thus, giving our sufferings, our bloodshed, our sorrow the same value that Christ gave to his own condition of poverty, oppression, abandonment, and injustice. Let us change all that into the cross of salvation that redeems the world and our people. And with hatred for none, let us be converted and share both joys and material aid, in our poverty, with those who may be even needier."

Oscar Romero was martyred on March 24th, 1980 while celebrating Mass.
These quotes have been taken from a book called "The Violence of Love" (referring to the violence to self, the death to self that is required by love). The book is a collection of quotes taken from Romero's sermons, compiled and translated by James R. Brockman, S.J.

A Lenten Reflection

2011-03-12T12:53:00.000-08:00

Fast from judging others; feast on Christ living in them.
Fast from harsh words; feast on words that build up others.
Fast from discontent; feast on gratitude.
Fast from anger; feast on patience.
Fast from pessimism; feast on optimism.
Fast from worry; feast on God's providential care.
Fast from complaining; feast on appreciation.
Fast from bitterness; feast on forgiveness.
Fast from self-concern; feast on compassion for others.
Fast from facts that depress; feast on facts that uplift.
Fast from thoughts that weaken; feast on promises that inspire.
Fast from idle gossip; feast on silence with a purpose.

~Fr. Michael Bielecki. OSA

in my own soul...

2011-01-26T17:42:00.000-08:00

I work at a homeless outreach center that serves about 400 people each day. Every day I have the opportunity to hear the stories of the people we serve. These people are my friends: Dan, Hector, Allen … I enjoy seeing them every day (checking in on each other and supporting each other through challenging times). I hear about their kids, their apartment searches, their job hunt, and often stories from their past. Some, although fewer than you might think, are addicts, dealers or have committed violent crimes.

Hearing a person’s story is a privilege but it can also be a burden. There are times I find it easier not to know too much about a person’s past. When you hear the worst stories about drugs, prostitution, murder and violent crimes, it’s easy to judge the act (especially extreme acts) and the person.

This past week was difficult on the street. There were two stabbings and one reported death. I know one of the men who was stabbed. I have known him for two years. I know he gang raped a 14-year-old girl. I have seen him fight guys half his size. He is violent, manipulative, angry and two-faced. Honestly, I don’t really like this guy, and sometimes I feel some acts are unforgivable. This man survived the stabbing but I could not honestly pray in thanksgiving for his life or pray for his healing and recovery.

Yet, I was reading a prayer by Thomas Merton last night:

So instead of loving what you think is peace,

love others and love God above all.

And instead of hating the people you think are warmakers,

hate the appetites and the disorder in your own soul, which are the causes of war.

If you love peace,

then hate injustice, hate tyranny, hate greed –

but hate these things in yourself, not in another.

Merton’s prayer reminds me that I must first judge myself; I must reflect on my interior life and exterior actions before judging others. As I see this man - and so many others – addicted, dealing and violent, I know that I hold the same sins in my heart.

There are definitely things in my life that I am addicted to and I would not easily give up – daily internet access and coffee come to mind. There are things in my life that I “deal.” I have more than once been called an enabler when it comes to food and drink. Although I am not normally violent, there are times in my life where my anger toward others has been greater than my love towards others.

It is easy to judge people who have already been judged by society and seem so different from myself. It is as I reflect on my own shortcomings that I see that I am not so different from those I quickly judge. At the most basic level we are all sinners, we all have areas that need work. Christ came to forgive all of us, no matter the sin, no matter how big or small, we are all welcomed into the forgiving arms of Christ.

From my daily experiences, I know that I cannot change the addicts and dealers I see every day, but I have the power to continually change myself. I have the power to look at my interior life, see where I fall short, see the qualities that I quickly judge in others, and attempt to better myself. If I so desperately wish for a more peaceful world, I must first call for a revolution in my own heart.

Christmas is coming.

2010-11-27T11:14:00.000-08:00

Christmas is coming. And it is, in my opinion (though possibly in fact), the most wonderful time of the year.

I realize that as I write this, it has only been 10 hours since I ate turkey on Thanksgiving. But there is more to Thanksgiving's end than a tryptophan-induced coma. The end of Thanksgiving signifies the beginning of Advent, a liturgical season in which followers of Christ await and prepare for the celebration of His birth.

It is also when all kinds of people lose their freakin' minds. Sometimes, the holiday mind-loss is voluntary (case in point: shopping on Black Friday.). Other times, people don't pre-plan to do things that are crazy. They only succumb to the insanity when the voluntarily-crazies cut them off with cars and shopping carts or call them out for paying with checks instead of credit.

And so what happens is, while we go into Advent intending to prepare to celebrate the birth of Christ, we get a little distracted when we have to fight over the last can of pumpkin puree, or to get into and out of parking spots, or with some kid's angry grandma because she yelled at us when we glanced at the last set of Harry Potter Legos and she thought doing so meant we'd try to take it from her cart.

Not a particularly productive way to spend the season. Also, thankfully, not a necessary way to spend it. There is a moving, rebellious alternative: the Advent Conspiracy. If you haven't heard of it, take 2 minutes and 39 seconds to watch this:

Feeling free to conspire yet?

From the Advent Conspiracy blog:

1. [AC] was created by three pastors who simply wanted to challenge people to make Christmas personal again. We are asking folks to consider doing four things: Worship Jesus Fully, Consider Spending Less on gifts that are bought out of obligation, Give More relational gifts, and use a little bit of the money you didn’t spend to Love All by helping those in need.

2. No money comes through, to, under, over or around [AC]. We are not an organization. We’re a movement.

3. We really love giving people clean water (did you know the lack of clean water is the number one killer in our world). You should check out Living Water International for more info. That being said, we want you to make this a personal thing between you and God. If you have another organization that you wish to support, go for it!

Happy Advent!

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This post originally appeared on http://arleenspenceley.blogspot.com.

My Community.

2010-11-05T21:10:00.000-07:00

This is a snapshot of my community:

ages 24 to 84; a former Trappist monk; a Roman Catholic women priest; an Orthodox Jew – who is not necessarily a Zionist and who rediscovered his faith by reading Kierkegaard; a devout Muslim (who converted from Catholicism); a few Catholics of varying degree; an illegal immigrant; a professor of sociology; a nurse; a teacher; a mathematician; a philosopher; an urban gardener; a published Catholic Worker scholar; a recovering alcoholic; a nomad; a small friendly dog; an opera lover; a bread maker; a jazz musician; a few anarchists and a few communists; eight people who pledge nonviolence and one who does not; a potter; a feminist; a few activist/protesters; and all of us call ourselves Catholic Workers.

Each of these labels only describes a small part of each member of the community. The diversity leads to opportunities to learn from each other and learn about each other’s traditions. The Muslim is teaching the community how to memorize scripture. We don’t have community activities on Friday nights in order to observe the Sabbath. Morning prayer is said at the same time just in different languages, in different rooms, and in different forms, but all to the same God. Each day we gather together, bring our unique gifts and backgrounds, to offer hospitality, a warm meal, a safe place to sleep, a listening ear, and a friendly smile to whoever walks in the door.

In the Acts of the Apostles Paul writes,
“They devoted themselves to the teaching of the apostles and to the communal life, to the breaking of the bread and to the prayers. Awe came upon everyone, and many wonders and signs were done through the apostles. All who believed were together and had all things in common; they would sell their property and possessions and divide them among all according to each one's need. Every day they devoted themselves to meeting together in the temple area and to breaking bread in their homes” (Acts 2:43-46).

In Corinthians he says, “I urge you, brothers, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that all of you agree in what you say, and that there be no divisions among you, but that you be united in the same mind and in the same purpose” (Corinthians 1:10).

The Quran says:
"Whoever works righteousness, man or woman, and has faith, verily, to them will We give a new Life, a life that is good and pure, and We will bestow on such their reward according to the best of their actions." Surah 16, Verse 97

"O mankind! We created you from a male and a female and made you into nations and tribes that you may know and honor each other (not that you should despise one another). Indeed the most honorable of you in the sight of God is the most righteous." Surah 49, Verse 13

The Talmud says:
“Man has three friends on whose company he relies. First, wealth which goes with him only while good fortune lasts. Second, his relatives; they go only as far as the grave, leave him there. The third friend, his good deeds, goes with him beyond the grave.”

People say community living is not possible. People make excuses – people are too different, too independent, and too judgmental. I disagree; my experience says community living is possible. People say peace is not possible. People make excuse – those other people are too different, they don’t understand us, and here is too much history. I disagree; my experience says peace is possible.

Through smoke.

2010-09-11T09:49:00.000-07:00

Every year around 9/11, memories and commercials rope me into watching a show (or two) that documents the attack.

I could never forget what I saw while it unfolded on live television. I could never forget half my tiny high school huddled in silence in the boys' locker room -- the only room where we could find a TV.

But watching footage years later, and interviews with the people who were there -- and even interviewing people who survived -- keeps it real. It keeps it from fading into memory so distant it stops reminding me how to love.

So last weekend, when National Geographic aired a couple of documentaries, I watched. Every story moved me.

Like the wives whose husbands called from airplanes and the businessman in his young 20s who lost his life going up and down flights and flights of stairs so he could save the lives of men and women several years his senior.

And the Muslim man who hit the ground, forced into falling by the power of the smoke and ash that swiveled around street corners after each tower collapsed. From the concrete, he couldn't see anything. He couldn't get up. He probably thought he would die there.

The smoke near his face started to clear. He could see a man -- clearly a hasidic Jewish one, with curly sideburns and a yarmulke on his head. The stranger reached toward the Muslim man, through smoke.

"Come on, brother." he said. "Let's get out of here!"

That, the Muslim man said, is the last thing he expected to hear. This Jewish stranger was the last person he expected might save him. But he grabbed his hand, shot up from the ground and the pair ran together. Eventually, they lost each other in the crowd. They never saw each other again.

So much of what happened between them reminds me of how we're to love.

How tempting it is while our world crashes down around us to work our own way out, to secure our own safety, while ignoring the ones around us who need our help.

How typical in this culture to ignore the ones around us, even while our world is completely intact.

Love your neighbor (and your enemies). Even through smoke.

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This post originally appeared on http://arleenspenceley.blogspot.com/.

What are we doing?

2010-09-02T10:16:00.000-07:00

After dinner last night, I put on one of my Matt Maher CDs, called Overflow. I have a mildly serious love for his music, so when I sing along, I mean it. When I listen, I listen carefully.

During number 8 (more popularly known as Canticle of Zechariah), I heard a line that consistently makes my face tingle (that's a good thing):

Declare victory/You've set us free/for from You and through You and for You are all things/ to You be all glory, all honor, all blessing.

I believe that. Jesus sets us free. I'd guess most people who call themselves Christians believe that, too. In light of it, though, what are we doing?

Really.

What are we doing?

Why, pray tell, do we sing about all the ways Jesus sets us free but live like we're bound to all the things from which he's freed us?

Why do we live like we believe we're on earth for a 401k?

Why do we work for retirement?

What are we doing?

"No one can serve two masters; for either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to one and despise the other You cannot serve God and wealth." -Jesus

"Do not worry then, saying, 'What will we eat?' or 'What will we drink?' or 'What will we wear for clothing?' For the Gentiles eagerly seek all these things; for your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things." -Jesus

Why do we grow up believing what they told us? "Go out and make something of yourself."

Why do we value keeping the peace more than moving past the status quo?

Why do we want so badly to fit in?

Why do we do anything if it means we won't have to suffer?

"Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted. Blessed are the gentle, for they shall inherit the earth. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied. Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God. Blessed are those who have been persecuted for the sake of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are you when people insult you and persecute you, and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of Me. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward in heaven is great; for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you." -Jesus

Blessed, he said, are you who -- essentially -- deny yourself.

In America.

Where we live for self. We trust in self.

What does that say about what we believe?

What are we doing?

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This post originally appeared on http://arleenspenceley.blogspot.com

I, Francis

2010-08-23T10:31:00.000-07:00

I recently finished a book my brother gave me called I, Francis by Carlo Carretto – one of my favorite authors writing about my all time favorite saint! In fact, Carretto writes in the character of St. Francis of Assisi, speaking to the people of today about his own life. The book did not disappoint. It really brought the story and person of St. Francis to life for me and also convicted and inspired me to strive toward a life of holiness, a life completely consumed by the freedom of the spirit of God. I would like to share two short passages, both of which capture the simplicity of the life in Christ that we were made for - Simple, yet very hard to do.

What counted in life was not to do, but to love.
What saved the world was not our wisdom, and not our action: it was the power of the love of God, lived in each one of us.
On the human level, Christ’s life was a failure. But on the level of his love, it was the masterpiece that gave new life to all creation.
By dying for love, Christ had exalted the whole world.
Death had been vanquished.

(p. 89)

Wickedness and violence are rooted in the fear of others.
If human beings go to war, it is because they fear someone.
Remove the fear, and you shall reestablish trust. And you shall have peace.
Nonviolence is fear’s destruction.
This is why I tell you once more, I, Francis: Learn to conquer fear, as I did that morning when I went out to meet the wolf with a smile.
By conquering myself, I conquered the wolf.
By taming my wicked instincts, I tamed those of the wolf. By making an effort to trust the wolf, I found that the wolf trusted me.
My courage had established peace.

(p. 81)

Trust like Ivy, love like Lucius.

2010-08-17T15:37:00.000-07:00

In my final free week before fall classes start, I'm spending a lot of time doing what rejuvenates me. Sitting in silence. Playing with my dog. Watching my favorite movies.

A couple nights ago, I watched the Village.

I won't spoil too much of the film for those who haven't seen it, but here's some context: the woods that surround the village in the film are forbidden. The village's elders always warn about about "those we do not speak of," the enemies who'll invade with a vengeance if a villager visits the woods.

But somebody does it anyway. So "those we do not speak of" are spotted and it sends the village into a frenzy of slamming shut shutters, locking doors and hiding in basements. Almost everybody freaks out.

Then, there's Ivy (Bryce Dallas Howard), a blind girl who stands at her open front door while everyone else runs for cover. Her sister implores her to shut the door, to save herself.

There is also Lucius (Joaquin Phoenix), who -- while his entire community hides from what might happen -- takes risks with selfless, reckless abandon.

I wonder what the world would look like if we trusted God with trust like Ivy's and loved each other like Lucius loves:

Originally posted on Arleen Spenceley's blog.

What deed must I do?

2010-08-16T10:06:00.000-07:00

I'm obsessed with perfection. This morning I had my whole family do a "practice run" of our new school morning routine, complete with timers so that we could somehow create that chaos that will inevitably ensue each morning. Once we were all fed, dressed and prayed up, they lined up and walked to the van at the appropriate time, giving me some satisfaction in knowing that we can do this.

School starts in a week...

It's my opinion that the rich young man in the Gospels (Matt 19:16-22) approaches Jesus in the same way. He wants to make sure that he is doing absolutely everything he can to secure his own perfection and ultimately his eternal happiness. However, you get the sense that Jesus in His mercy is required to give him a task, "go sell all that you possess", so that the young man has something tangible to work toward. As I continue to struggle into this intimacy with God, I have found that most of the time it is not about the deeds I'm performing, but about the disposition of my heart.

"Teacher, what good deed must I do, to have eternal life?" has the right intent, but it is the wrong question to ask. Jesus answers the question, but only because the young man wasn't ready to hear the whole truth, "get rid of everything else you love and love me."

Lord, as you perfect me, teach me how to love you more than all my stuff, my good deeds, my identity, my religion, my work, my family, my dreams. Help me to see that there is only one deed that you ask of me, to fall more madly in love with you everyday.

originally posted on Holy Irritations

Feast of the Transfiguration of the Lord

2010-08-16T10:00:00.000-07:00

A cloud came and cast a shadow over them,
and they became frightened when they entered the cloud.
Then from the cloud came a voice that said,
‘This is my chosen Son; listen to him.’
Luke 9:34,35

On August 6th the Church celebrated the Feast of the Transfiguration of the Lord.

Before the story of the Transfiguration, Peter, James, John, and Jesus had been hanging out a lot. They traveled together, shared meals together, preached, healed the sick, and taught together. Right before this Gospel passage Jesus “summoned the Twelve and gave them power and authority … and sent them to proclaim the kingdom of God” (Luke 9:1a, 2a). They had heard the first prediction of the Passion story and they had been warned of the conditions and requirements of discipleship.

In the story of the Transfiguration, Peter, James, and John went up the mountain with Jesus, saw him with Elijah and Moses, and then Peter offered to make tents for each man. A cloud came over Peter, James, and John and from that cloud a voice spoke, saying “‘This is my chosen Son; listen to him’” (Luke 9:35b) and then Peter, James and John were alone with Christ.

The line that always strikes me in this story is ‘they became frightened.’

Honestly, if I heard a voice from the clouds, I would probably be frightened as well. But I think the fear that the disciples felt in this story is different than fear at other points in the Gospel. For example when the disciples were on the boat in the storm, they were afraid of capsizing; during the Crucifixion, the disciples were fearful of death. In the story of the Transfiguration Jesus shared his true self. He shared his true nature as being the Son of God.

Imagine being on that mountain: you think you know Jesus, this man with countercultural stories and ideas, you have seen miracles and healings; you have heard the parables and lessons. You have traveled, eaten, fished, healed, taught, lived with this man. And now, this new revelation. A new revelation into the depth of who Christ is.

How would you handle this situation? How do you react when friends share surprising and unexpected news?

When we share of our true self, our true identity, our inner thoughts, feelings, emotions we make ourselves vulnerable to the judgments of others. We open ourselves to the rejection, hatred, and opinions of others.

Yet, in order to share our true self we must move beyond the fear of persecution and misunderstanding in order to enter into deeper and more meaningful relationships with others. In order to enter into true Christian community and relationships we must be willing to share our true selves, make ourselves vulnerable to others, and receive the surprising, unexpected, and sometimes unnerving revelations of others.

It is only through sharing our true selves that we can be challenged to grow, challenged to develop our thoughts, and open ourselves to receiving the love of others. Only through receiving the revelations of others can we make ourselves available to the true nature of others. Together through the sharing and receiving between friends we are able to commit ourselves to meaningful, deep, Christians relationships.

‘and they became frightened’
We must move beyond this initial fear, move beyond hesitation and second-guessing. The goal of letting go of this fear is to enter into a deeper relationship with Christ. We must be willing to share and receive our true selves with Christ. We must be open and honest in our needs and desires and be willing to receive God’s dream for us.

Longing for Home

2010-08-13T14:05:00.000-07:00

"The very simplicity and nakedness of man's life in the primitive ages imply this advantage at least, that they left him still but a sojourner in nature. When he was refreshed with food and sleep, he contemplated his journey again. He dwelt, as it were, in a tent in this world, and was either threading the valleys, or crossing the plains, or climbing the mountain tops. But lo! men have become the tools of their tools [...] We now no longer camp as for a night, but have settled down on earth and forgotten heaven. We have adopted Christianity merely as an improved method of agri-culture. We have built for this world a family mansion, and for the next a family tomb."
-Henry David Thoreau in "Walden"

Have Christians forgotten heaven? We read in 1 Peter "Beloved, I urge you as aliens and sojourners to keep away from worldly desires that wage war against the soul." (2:11) and in Philippians "But our citizenship is in heaven and from it we also await a savior, the Lord Jesus Christ." (3:20)

The early Christians lived this out in a radical way, casting aside many of the social norms and expectations of the day to build up the kingdom of God among them while pursuing the heavenly Kingdom. The things of this world had no hold on them, as was evidenced by their lives. There was something different about these people. For one thing, their compassion and generosity - but also their inability to be persuaded to compromise their lives of faith by wealth, power, or acts of violence. They were concerned only with the eternal and from this came their sense of freedom and joy.

So is it obvious today that we as Christians are not of this world? Some who, as they work to build up God's kingdom on earth have simply left behind the eternal. And then there are some who talk about heaven but live very much as though their time on earth is all they've got, devoting themselves to a life of comfort and favorable social status. And even if we don't fall into one of these two conditions, it is very easy to be eluded by the bombarding messages of society telling us what we must do or have or be. So many things are competing for our attention and devotion everyday. Before we know it, we've lost sight of the the heavenly.

We as Christians should be longing for our true homeland with a sense of joyful expectation and a detachment from this world. We are indeed aliens and sojourners in this strange land, beautiful though it may be. A song from my childhood comes to mind: "This land is not my home, I'm just passing through. My treasures are laid up somewhere beyond the blue. The angles beckon me from heaven's open door and I can't feel at home in this world anymore." I think we would do well to remember this a little more often and maybe if we lived like it were true, folks would be more convinced that we really BELIEVE the promises of Christ.

WORD On the Street

2010-07-05T18:16:00.000-07:00

WORD on the Street by Rob Lacey

Hi, friends! So, I was just introduced to Rob Lacey's work. Lacey worked as an actor and broadcaster (specifically in storytelling and poetry) in the UK for 20 years before bringing Bible stories to the stage at Christian festivals and conferences in the UK and US. He passed away in 2006 from cancer. Both The Word on the Street and The Liberator are re-tellings of the Gospels of Matthew, Mark, and Luke in urban speech, including some poetry (So much for the Beloved Disciple... for some reason he didn't use John). They have been described as a "dangerously real retelling of Scripture." Anyway, thought I'd share in case anyone is interested. (I also wish I'd have heard of him before the school year ended, so I would have been able to share with my students.) Below is Lacey's creative interpretation on The Beatitudes of Matthew from The Word on the Street (2003). Aiight.

Matthew 5:1-12
Jesus see how the troupe of groupies is growing, so he goes up the nearest hill and lets them follow. They listen in as he teaches his team.

“I’ll tell you who’ll laugh last: the people who don’t think too much of themselves, who know they are a mess – their ticket to heaven’s already in the post (first class).

Who’ll be happy? The people who know about grief, who don’t shove the mess behind the sofa, but face it – God himself is going to put his arm round them

Who’ll be content? The modest, gentle types, who don’t go round grabbing – they’ll get given the world.

Who’ll be laughing? The People who only want to do the right thing, like its’ their food and drink – their ‘good news in tray’ will be piled high.

Who’ll be laughing? The people who don’t hold grudges, who forgive and forget – they’ll get treated likewise.

Who’ll be laughing, deep down, already? The people who aren’t polluted with stuff that mugs the heart – they’ll get to see God.

Who’s laughing, deep down? The people who stop fights and start friendships, who turn fists into high fives – they’ll get known as God’s children.

Who’s laughing? The people who get slapped down for doing the right thing – they get given the security code to heaven’s gates.

And you’re laughing if people despise you. You’re delirious if they pick on you. If they slag you off just because you’re on God’s side – throw a party! Go wild! Paint the town – your bonus in heaven is hitting the humongous mark. Because that’s exactly what they did to all the couriers (prophets) who prophesied my arrival.”

Peace,

-Michelle

LedByJoy.blogspot.com

Contemplation in the Streets: Part 2

2010-06-12T07:00:00.000-07:00

[Continued from Part 1]

“Poverty is not a question of having or not having money. Poverty is not material. It is a beatitude. “Blessed are the poor in spirit.” It is a way of being, thinking and loving. It is a gift of the Spirit. Poverty is detachment, and freedom and, above all, truth.
Go into almost any middle-class home, even a Christian one, and you will see the lack of this beatitude of poverty. The furniture, the drapes, the whole atmosphere are stereotyped, determined by fashion and luxury, not by necessity and truth.
This lack of liberty, or rather this slavery to fashion, is one of the idols which attracts a great number of Christians. How much money is sacrificed upon its altar! – without taking into account that so much good could otherwise be done with it. Being poor in spirit means, above all, being unrestrained by what is called fashion; it means freedom.
I don’t buy a blanket because it is fashion. It buy it because I need it. Without a blanket my child shivers in bed. Bread, a blanket, a table, fire, are things necessary in themselves. To use them is to carry out God’s plan. “All the rest comes from the evil one,” to paraphrase an expression of Jesus’ about truth. And this “rest” is fashion, habit, luxury, over-indulgence, greed – slavery to the world.
One seeks not what is true, but what is pleasing to others. We seem to need this mask. We seem incapable of living without it. […]
And don’t we perhaps put the poor man to shame when we pass by with our power and riches while he cannot afford to pay the rent? How can we preach the Gospel to him, while enjoying economic security when he doesn’t know whether tomorrow he will have work and bread?
But poverty as a beatitude is not only truth, freedom and justice. It is and always will be love, and its limits become infinite, as infinite as the love of God.
Poverty is love for the poor Jesus, and voluntary self-denial. […]
It is easy to speak of spiritual poverty, to fill one’s mouth with pious words, and yet not lack anything, not really feel the pinch, have a secure house, a well-stocked larder and the security of a bank account. […]
I know that what I have said about poverty is challenging, and I also know that when in the world I did not really put it into practice. It is I who have lived for years behind the mask of “pleasing others”; it is I who have spent money, and not only my own, on things which are “not real.”
And yet, in spite of this, I cannot remain silent; and to my friends I must say: beware of the temptation of riches. It is much more serious than it may appear today to well-intentioned Christians, and it sows destruction primarily because we underestimate its danger.
Riches are slow poison, which strikes almost imperceptibly, paralyzing the soul at the moment when it seems healthiest. They are thorns which grow with the grain and suffocate it right at the moment when the corn is beginning to shoot up. What a number of men and women, religious people, let themselves get caught up in their later lives by the spirit of middle-class tastes.
Now that solitude and prayer have helped me to see thing more clearly, I understand why contemplation and poverty are inseparable. It is impossible to have a deep relationship with Jesus in Bethlehem, with Jesus in exile, with Jesus the workman of Nazareth, with Jesus the apostle who has nowhere to lay his head, with the crucified Jesus, without having achieved within ourselves that detachment from things, proclaimed with such authority and lived by him.
One will not reach this high state of poverty at once. Indeed, life itself will not be long enough to achieve it fully. But we must think about it, reflect and, above all, pray.”

Carlo Carretto (1910-1988) in “Letters from the Desert”

Contemplation in the Streets

2010-06-09T12:53:00.000-07:00

Carlo Carretto (born 1910) was an Italian Catholic activist who at age 44 answered the call: “Leave everything, come with me into the desert. I don’t want your action any longer. I want your prayer, your love.” Carretto joined the Little Brothers of Jesus who model their lives after blessed Charles de Foucauld and spent the next ten years in the remote Saharan desert of North Africa. Following his time of prayer and solitude in the desert, he returned to Italy where he continued to serve as a Little Brother of Jesus until his death in 1988.
I wanted to share an abridged version of chapter ten, “Contemplation in the Streets” out of “Letters from the Desert,” one of Carretto’s many books. Even the abridged version is a little long for a blog post so I’ll be splitting it into two separate posts:

"The life of Charles de Foucauld opens up a new understanding of the spiritual life in which many will force themselves to make the fusion between contemplation and action – really living and obeying the first commandment of the Lord, “Love God above all things and your neighbor as yourself.”
“Contemplation in the streets.” This is tomorrow’s task not only for the Little Brothers, but for all the poor.
Let us begin to analyze this element of “desert” which must be present, especially today, in the carrying out of such a demanding program.
When one speaks of the soul’s desert, and says that the desert must be present in your life, you must not think only of the Sahara or the desert of Judea, or into the High Valley of the Nile.
Certainly it is not everyone who can have the advantage of being able to carry out in practice this detachment from daily life. […]
[T]he same way is not for everybody. And if you cannot go into the desert, you must nonetheless “make some desert” in your life. Every now and then leaving men and looking for solitude to restore, in prolonged silence and prayer, the stuff of your soul. This is the meaning of “desert” in your spiritual life.
One hour a day, one day a month, eight days a year, for longer if necessary, you must leave everything and everybody and retire, alone with God. If you don’t look for this solitude, if you don’t love it, you won’t achieve real contemplative prayer. […]
But the desert is not the final stopping place. It is a stage on the journey. Because, as I told you, our vocation is contemplation in the streets. […] It calls us to the life of love. It invites everybody to a life of action which, couched in contemplation, is a witness and presence among others.
Convent walls are becoming thinner and the ceilings even lower. The laity are becoming conscious of their mission and are searching for a genuine spirituality. It is truly the dawn of a new world to which it would not seem unworthy to give as an aim “contemplation in the streets” and to offer the means of achieving it.
But there is another basic element of the contemplative life, above all as it is lived in the world: poverty."

[read "Contemplation in the Streets: Part 2"]

Some More Thoughts on the Wisdom of Stability

2010-06-04T09:06:00.000-07:00

"It's just the same story as a doctor once told me," observed the elder. "He was a man getting on in years, and undoubtedly clever. He spoke as frankly as you, though in jest, in bitter jest. 'I love humanity,' he said, 'but I wonder at myself. The more I love humanity in general, the less I love man in particular. In my dreams,' he said, 'I have often come to making enthusiastic schemes for the service of humanity, and perhaps I might actually have faced crucifixion if it had been suddenly necessary; and yet I am incapable of living in the same room with anyone for two days together, as I know by experience. As soon as anyone is near me, his personality disturbs my self-complacency and restricts my freedom. In twenty-four hours I begin to hate the best of men: one because he's too long over his dinner; another because he has a cold and keeps on blowing his nose. I become hostile to people the moment they come close to me. But it has always happened that the more I detest men individually the more ardent becomes my love for humanity.' […]

[The elder continues with advice at some length, concluding:] “love in action is a harsh and dreadful thing compared with love in dreams. Love in dreams is greedy for immediate action, rapidly performed and in the sight of all. Men will even give their lives if only the ordeal does not last long but is soon over, with all looking on and applauding as though on the stage. But active love is labour and fortitude, and for some people too, perhaps, a complete science. But I predict that just when you see with horror that in spite of all your efforts you are getting farther from your goal instead of nearer to it -- at that very moment I predict that you will reach it and behold clearly the miraculous power of the Lord who has been all the time loving and mysteriously guiding you.”
-The Elder Zossima, from The Brother’s Karamazov, by Fyodor Dostoevsky.

As I continue my reflections on stability and our hyper-mobility which I began in my previous post, I can’t help but wonder how often we fall into the trap that Fr. Zossima discusses in this passage from the Brother’s Karamazov. How easy it is to love the poor, faceless Africans, the Haitians, the homeless; how laudable to send them our money or to go and be with them for a week or even a year. Yet how hard it is, often, to stay and minister for the duration when those same people take on faces and names; real people with flesh and blood, who can offend us and get on our nerves. When we no longer serve “the homeless,” but Andrew- who is drunk again, and hostile and ungrateful. Do we have the will to stay and love when life with real people becomes, in reality, difficult?

In addition, hyper-mobility comes with social costs; so often, poverty in small towns is directly linked to the labor force leaving, to all people with capabilities to make things better going elsewhere. As Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove states in his aforementioned book (see my previous post), “the homelessness of guys who are hooked on crack in Walltown is but the flipside of the placeslessness that drives ambitious young students to see this university town as a stop on their way to somewhere else.” When everyone who can leave a place do, then all those who remain are the most vulnerable. It’s one of the reasons why the New Monastics, in their words, place such an emphasis of making community in the abandoned places of the Empire- the places where everyone who could leave, did.

Sadly, as I mentioned once before, I don’t have an easy answers to the question of when we should stay and when we should go, nor any compelling thesis about what the call to stability requires of us. I know that I am as guilty as anyone else: I put in my year of service at a homeless shelter, and then left it behind. I just moved to Chicago from Mesa, AZ, where I grew up, cutting all my ties with the people and places I had known before. However, these experiences have left me with the same uneasiness that has struck Jonathan; a feeling that frequent travel costs more than I thought it would.

We Christians have always had something of a revolutionary take on stability, and we see it all throughout our tradition. Many monks take a vow of stability, in addition to poverty, chastity, and obedience, and the monastic tradition has arisen out of people vowing to stay and cultivate life amongst one group of people and in one place. In our current climate of consumer relationships, the Church’s continued insistence on absolute monogamy is a revolutionary call to radical stability: the belief that the ideal relationship for the most common vocation in the Church is for two people to wed themselves to one another for life, to stay together come what may. Furthermore, there is no form of stability greater than that found in the Incarnation; the omnipresent and eternal God deemed fit to express Himself in the fullest sense in one human life, at one time and place, among one people.

Stability is an essential component of our tradition and our belief. I wonder if have we overlooked its importance in our daily lives, and in the life plans we make for ourselves? I am not advocating an uncritical acceptance of stability. An uncritical embrace of stability, of making it an end in itself, could be as potentially damaging as our current uncritical adoption of mobility, and could lead to stagnation and in-group exclusivity. However, some truths are only as true as the falsehood they are posited against; in an age that puts the primacy of value on the extravagant and the novel and the exotic, that can trivialize spirituality to nothing more than the collecting of personally touching encounters and interesting anecdotes, a bit more staying, and waiting, and watching may be just what we are called to, more often than we realize.

[read the first "Thoughts on the Wisdom of Stability"]

Thoughts on the Wisdom of Stability

2010-06-01T10:53:00.000-07:00

I was raised in Christian churches by people who loved me well, charged to go out there and make a difference in the world, and given some of the best resources and training available for the task. I showed the Jesus film in the African bush, helped build schools for AIDS orphans, dug latrines in the Dominican Republic, played with kids from the barrios of Venezuela, built houses in Honduras, and tutored kids in Philadelphia’s inner city. A citizen of God’s kingdom, I tried to put my American passport to work for good in the world. But racking up all those frequent flyer miles for Jesus, I felt lonely. I wanted to share God’s love with others, but wasn’t sure where to experience it myself.

Hung over from all the travel, I stumbled into a little intentional community of Christians who were trying to love one another and their neighbors. It wasn’t easy… and it showed. But I saw something compelling in that little group’s experiment with faith: they had given themselves to God and one another in a particular place. They saw one another’s junk, and they could talk about it. In all the ordinariness of everyday life, they knew what it meant to need forgiveness and to receive it. In short, they were learning to love one another. God’s love became real for me in that place. I caught a glimpse of what I had been looking for.
-From The Wisdom of Stability: Rooting Faith in a Mobile Culture, by Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove

I have been giving a lot of thought recently to the concept of stability. We live in an age of near limitless mobility. We can keep in contact with people around the globe in an instant, and can travel anywhere in the world in a matter of days, if not hours. I personally have benefited from this far more than most- I have lived in Eastern Europe some time, and traveled to that part of the world half a dozen times in my young adult years for a variety of reasons. Furthermore, I am not about to attack these abilities or technologies out-rightly; this increased mobility and these rapid modes of transportation are in many ways blessings. They can keep us connected to family and friends we would otherwise not be able to reach, they can send aid to places in the world that desperately need it, and they have opened us up to a wider world beyond our shores.

However, the downside of this hyper-mobility, which Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove explores in his new book (quoted above), is a feeling of placelessness, or of unrootedness. He has a concern, and I feel he has a point, that our mobility pressures us to move so frequently that we never connect with any single place; I feel this pressure preys especially on young adults. In attempting to be missionaries everywhere, we truly learn to love people nowhere. I am by no means saying that we can only love those people who we have been with for a long time; I have done mission trips, and a year of service, and I know that some of the most powerful experiences of love I have felt have been with people I have met only once, and never seen again. Yet, at the same time, there is truly something fundamentally different about the love you experience with people you live with over the long haul: the feeling of really building something. The feeling of acceptance that can only come from pushing up against one another for days and weeks and months and years on end: of having conflicts, and ending them with the giving and receiving of reconciliation.

These ideas of stability remind me of the most loving man I have ever had the privilege of knowing, Bro Richard Armstrong, C.S.C. I spent one year working and serving in a homeless shelter in downtown Phoenix. It barely took that long to work out the rhythm of life, to meet the people who lived there, and to trust and to become trusted. Bro. Richard has worked there for twenty-three years, and counting. He knows the name and face of every guest and every volunteer. He is absolutely loving, and his time, his life, there has made him deeply, deeply invested. Compare my service to his: it can’t be done. There is no comparison. People often applaud me for “giving up” one year of my life in service to Andre House, as if it was some break or pause in the more serious, “real” life plan I have in front of me. And perhaps, since I was there for but a year, that’s exactly what it looks like. However, Bro. Richard has made that place his life and his ministry, and thus his life and ministry have become one inseparable whole. It is so easy to see Christ in Bro. Richard, because he has spent his life seeing Christ in the homeless he has journeyed with for more than two decades. His is a real love, a deep love, and it is real and deep in large part because it is committed to one ministry, one place, one people.

I have not yet worked out all the implications of this for my life. But I feel it is worth pondering. Our new mobility, as mentioned at the beginning, is in many ways very valuable. At the same time, I feel I have, up until now, accepted it a bit too uncritically. If I call myself some sort of revolutionary, bent on spreading the gospel in this world and internalizing it in my own heart, I think is a worthwhile endeavor to ask myself in what ways my mobility and movement are truly being used to serve the Kingdom, and in what ways it is serving only my own boredom with the routine and my own ambition for the exotic.

This reflection comes largely by wrestling with ideas and thoughts found in the book quoted above by Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove, “The Wisdom of Stability: Rooting Faith in a Mobile Culture.” Both the author and the book come highly recommended.

[read "Some More Thoughts on the Wisdom of Stability"]

One family, one parish trying to change the world

2010-05-26T08:04:00.000-07:00

Since 2003 Our Lady of Good Council in Plymouth, MI and Haciendita Uno in El Salvador have formed a sister community to celebrate the universal church across political, linguistic, and cultural barriers.

Since their relationship has begun, Our Lady of Good Council has focused on developing educational opportunities for the youth in Haciendita Uno from elementary school through college.

In El Salvador for six years of college studies, it costs a total of $13,200 per student. The parish has pledged to send five students to college. Yet, the parish has run into difficulties raising the necessary funds. They are currently in need of $33,000 in order to complete their goal of sending five students to college.

With full support of the parish priest, the parish Deacon and his wife have moved into a shack on the front lawn of the parish. This shack is in the style of homes commonly seen in rural El Salvador. They are planning on living in the shack, with no phone, internet, running water, shower, electricity, air conditioning, or stove until the full amount of money has been raised.

As I reflect on times when I have encountered problems or difficulties in my life or in my work, I can see examples of times I have backed-down or changed course or allowed the situation to takeover what I think is right. Yet, here Deacon Don has a clear understanding of what is right and what is fair. He is refusing to change course and refusing to take no as an answer. He is planning on living on the front steps of the parish until the five youth of El Salvador get the education that they so desperately need.

Hearing stories like this makes me remember that one person or one family or one parish truly can make a difference. One should never take no as the final answer and one should not waiver from what is the right path.

To see pictures of his shack or read Deacon Don reflections on his experience, please see his blog at
http://deacondonleach.blogspot.com/

Please keep Deacon Don, his wife Mary, their parish, and Haciendita Uno in your prayers and please spread the word about their efforts.

If you happen to find yourself in Plymouth, MI, Deacon Don and Mary welcome all visitors to their shack.

And in the words of Deacon Don:
Peace and all good.

Who is my neighbor?

2010-05-16T08:16:00.000-07:00

I first posted this on www.holyirritations.com and wanted to share with you all.
keep on lovin'.
peace+
ennie

Last night, Cana and I went on a date. We clipped some coupons from our trusty Entertainment book, got a babysitter, and set off to go watch the remake of Robinhood (which, by the way, was pretty good). On the way to the theatre, it started raining... really hard. I for one, was not looking forward to getting out of the car, for I was looking pretty fly with my hair all did. Cana was wearing a sleeveless dress and was already feeling cold. We stopped by the convenience store around the corner from the theatre, to get some candy and water to put in Cana's purse (is that bad? doesn't everyone do that?). We hurried out of the car, so as to not get too wet. As we approached the glass doors of the store, there came another man, shirtless, with tattoos, sandals with wet socks on. My first reaction, was to go into defensive mode. Can I take this guy if he intends to hurt my wife? Then, as my infantile stages of "enemy-love" self rose to the top of my psyche, I decided that I would open the door for the man, looking him in the eye with a smile, having him follow my wife in, even though it made me a little nervous. He just gave me a head jerk upward "'sup" and a smile, I'm was guessing, that was his way of saying thanks.

Cana chose skittles as her poison, and I, Reese's Pieces. We added a bottle of water and approached the counter. The shirtless man had a six pack of tall boys set there and was pointing out his brand of cigarettes to the cashier. We moved to the second attendant, only to find out that all the credit card machines were down due to the thunderstorm. I was pretty irritated, irritated because I couldn't buy my roundish bagged sugar craving. Then from our left, the shirtless man held out cash and said in an excited voice "I got it." "What do you mean? No." I responded, which was actually more polite than it was true. For, I knew exactly what he meant. He responded "you're good, you're good, just if you see someone else in need tonight, do the same." I was taken aback, but you know... I wasn't surprised. A shirtless tattooed man paid for our candy, and I really wasn't surprised.

When Jesus was asked "who is your neighbor?", He really didn't answer the question, but He told a story. He told the story of the good samaritan. A guy who the Jewish people where supposed to hate and supposed to be afraid of. When asked "who is your neighbor?", Jesus basically answered "the person that you are inclined to hate or be afraid of".

I've been trying to really practice enemy love and neighbor love for a couple of years now, and the more I pray for those who want to do me or my family harm and the more I love those that I am actually inclined to dislike, these characters at convenience stores and folks who smell badly or look dangerous aren't as repulsive anymore. I'm pretty sure I'm figuring out slowly that Christ really is everywhere, waiting to be treated with dignity. Not just in Haiti, or the poor, but everywhere. You see, I could speculate where this man got his cash. Or wonder if my skittles were bought with dope dealing money or worse. I could think about where tattoo man was going to party that night and with whom, what his family was like, how he grew up, what car he drove, and whether or not he received government aid for housing or food. Or I could see him as a neighbor, a human that is just as vulnerable to sin and hell, and just as close to forgiveness and salvation as I am.

The truth is, by God's goodness, Cana and I are becoming more and more convinced that people are people whatever their situation. They need love and dignity more than they need fixing or aid. To accept love from him, in the form of candy, gave him a confirmation of his dignity. It's in giving we receive. And I guess in a way, it's in receiving that we give... hmm...

In the end, I gave the shirtless guy a hug. Yes, I slapped his wet sweaty back with my open palms and gave him a true bro hug, just as I would give one of my own brothers. And I'm not gonna lie, it was pretty disgusting. But, I'm pretty sure not doing so would have been even more repulsive. I got some candy and moreover I got a lesson from Jesus. Thank God for shirtless tattooed man.

Behold, I Make All Things New

2010-05-03T12:50:00.000-07:00

Last weekend marked a number of special occasions. On May 1 as the Catholic Church celebrated the feast of Saint Joseph the Worker and remembered all workers and those looking for work, an estimated half a million people took up the tradition of political activism on May Day and came out for protests, demonstrations, and prayer vigils around the country in opposition to Arizona’s recent passage of SB1070 and to call for comprehensive immigration reform. There is no question that our immigration system is broken and one can’t help but wonder if our political system is broken too when politicians prefer to use important issues for their own political gain at the expense of the entire nation. It seems that our leaders are most concerned about how to get or remain in power and in the process have so divided and polarized the country that what is really best for the people has become only an afterthought. Many politicians have become so consumed with the power struggle that they’ve nearly forgotten the job they were sent to do.

But it is important for us as Christians to remember that we do not put our hope in the government nor in any of the other powers of this world. We put our hope in Christ alone, knowing that in Him the battle has already been won. He tells us “In the world you will have trouble but take courage, I have conquered the world.” (Jn 16:33) And on Sunday we heard the promise: “Behold, I make all things new.” (Rev 21:5)recalling the Resurrection, as the Church continues to celebrate Easter. And so with great expectation we long to experience the fulfillment of God’s promise, and as we continue on our journey as “aliens and sojourners” (1Pt 2:11) we strive to bring about the Kingdom of God among us, regardless of the worldly kingdom that we find ourselves residing in.

May 1 is also the anniversary the Catholic Worker newspaper (in 1933) and with it, the birth of a new movement as Dorothy Day and Peter Maurin encouraged people to join them in looking not to the government for solutions, but to their faith in God lived out in radical and authentic ways. I pray that we would do the same – that while we continue to work for peace and justice in our communities and beyond, we would always keep our eyes fixed on Jesus and keep our hope in the Lord, trusting that he will indeed make all things new!

Immigration Reform

2010-04-26T17:26:00.000-07:00

As the issue of immigration again makes its way to the political forefront, it is important for us to be reminded of what our faith requires. If we consider ourselves to be true followers of Christ, then our views and actions should be reflective of those of Christ himself.

“When an alien resides with you in your land, you shall not oppress the alien. The alien who resides with you shall be to you as the citizen among you; you shall love the alien as yourself, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt: I am the Lord you God.” (Leviticus 19:33-34).

Here is a statement from Christians for Comprehensive Immigration Reform that is a good summary of the biblical principles involved:

• We believe all people, regardless of national origin or citizenship status, are made in the "image of God" and deserve to be treated with dignity and respect (Genesis 1:26-27, 9:6).
• We believe there is an undeniable responsibility to love and show compassion for the stranger among us (Deuteronomy 10:18-19, Leviticus 19:33-34, Matthew 25:31-46).
• We believe that immigrants are our neighbors, both literally and figuratively, and we are to love our neighbors as ourselves and show mercy to neighbors in need (Leviticus 19:18, Mark 12:31, Luke 10:25-37).
• We believe in the rule of law, but we also believe that we are to oppose unjust laws and systems that harm and oppress people made in God's image, especially the vulnerable (Isaiah 10:1-4, Jeremiah 7:1-7, Acts 5:29, Romans 13:1-7).

May we work together for a fair and just solution to the broken U.S. immigration system currently in place as we try to truly put our Christian faith into action.

Who Do We Obey?

2010-04-15T09:42:00.000-07:00

I love the stories out of the Acts of the Apostles! The daily readings lately from the first few chapters are filled with the inspiring courage and boldness of the Apostles. Today they are standing before the Sanhedrin, who had brought them in for disobeying their order to “stop teaching in that name.” To this “Peter and the apostles said in reply, ‘We must obey God rather than men.’” (Acts 5:29)

This is a challenge today for us to question if our allegiance is to God or men. Though we often would not say it out loud, sometimes we give our allegiance first to nation or to a political party and when those things come up against the Gospel, it is our faithful adherence to the Gospel that gets compromised. Or we may convince ourselves (as many would like us to believe) that our nation or political affiliation is really God's, thus we are good Christians when we listen to and follow God’s favored politicians.

We may also pledge our allegiance to cultural norms, conforming ourselves this age by trying to be what society tells us we should be, rather than who God tells us we are in Christ. We might sometimes strive for success and esteem rather than holiness and faithfulness to the call. In all these things, we must be careful to always obey God rather than men.

I love the way that the Apostles are not intimated by those in power. They are filled with the Holy Spirit and the power of Love has cast out fear. They are not concerned with the ways of the world or the threats that come from it. Rather, because of their hope in Christ they have overcome it, recalling Jesus’ words: “In the world you will have trouble but take courage, I have conquered the world.” (Jn 16:33) May we have the same boldness and uncompromising faithfulness to the Gospel. May we always echo with the apostles “We must obey God rather than men”