The angel Gabriel was sent from God to a town of Galilee called Nazareth, to a virgin betrothed to a man named Joseph, of the house of David, and the virgin’s name was Mary.

And coming to her, he said, “Hail, full of grace! The Lord is with you.”
But she was greatly troubled at what was said and pondered what sort of greeting this might be.

I have to admit that I’ve had this reaction — someone greets me with a smile and a message that is sooooo positive. And my first reaction is one of suspicion. What does she want from me? Anyone/anything that happy to see me must want to eat me for dinner. The list goes on from there, but you get the idea.

And so, I look to Mary for the followup. She hears the rest of the story and ponders it a bit. And then she simply asks – “How can this be?” That is where I fall short, it seems. I hold my questions and suspicions close and don’t reveal my hand most of the time. I can only ask for Mary’s simple courage as she wonders aloud “How?” She doesn’t try to sidestep the issue, she doesn’t play at false humility — she just goes with it.

It seems I must accept that the questioning is essential, but so is the acceptance.

After he talked a bit about himself and the book and finished reading a section , the floor was opened for questions. One struck question and answer struck me deeply.

Wayne comes from the Deep South. He worked registering voters in Birmingham during the Civil Rights Movement. He has worked with the Southern Poverty Law Center. But, this was not the mindset of the community into which he was born. He was also a Baptist minister at one time in his life.

The question:  “What event had the most profound impact on your life?”

His response ran something like this: That would have to be my conversion.”[Remember he is a Southern Baptist flavor of Christian] My conversion experience caused me to no longer fit in with my church or my community. I could no longer reconcile my own beliefs with those of in my church community or my family.

There just simply are not that many people who can say that — it is difficult to be transformed, difficult to allow God to touch me so profoundly that I no longer fit the mold. This simple witness was not preachy, but the simplicity and honesty of his statement dug deep. No apology, no brow-beating — just truth.

Amen.

My friend mentioned that she had in the not so distant past decided to pray for all the men she had dated over the past 20 years… I don’t know what the issues are/were, but, I could tell that that there had been much anger and frustration. I knew where she was coming from, since I once had a penance that involved offering every song I sung at mass for those that I felt persecuted me. (Music was one component of the persecution)  Aaarrggghhh! I almost cried because I knew it was exactly what was needed.

Funny thing about this idea of praying for those who persecute you: Both of us reflected that we started slowly and begrudgingly to walk through the motions of praying for those we were angry with and had been deeply hurt by. We just said the words because it was the right thing to do. Slowly, it changed. Slowly, the process moved from saying prayers for them to praying for them. Then, to really praying for them. And one day you look up and realize that you are really praying for them, and Anger has given up trying to hold you in that place where you eat the rat poison  and hope the rat dies.

Myself, I understood that when one of those who I felt persecuted me launched into something that would previously have angered me, hurt me, made me feel in danger. I realized that I was no longer angry, but very sad for this person. I was praying for him. I was asking God to bring healing and good things into his life. What a load I set down that day.

That’s not so say that these persecutions were not painful or that at some level I was not justified in my feelings of anger toward the other. And, in some cases, in many cases, you may not ever be close to the persecutor. It might be bad and downright dangerous. But, to move from a need for vengeance and anger to a place of letting go, stepping back from me and into a place of sincere concern for someone is one of those miracles we need in our daily lives.

Perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised much by recent developments. After all, I am old enough to remember George Wallace blocking the door at the University of Alabama; I even have vague memories of Bull Connor and his dogs and fire hoses. So, why be surprised at the actions of the Alabama Legislature now? Maybe I’m not so much surprised as disappointed and saddened.

It’s not just this stupid, malicious immigration law that was passed recently. It’s not just the idiocy of the death penalty.  True, it is embarrassing to make a new friend in a different state, and then to tell them it would be a bad plan if they came to visit because it’s a really bad time to have skin other than pasty white in this state right now. Really doesn’t matter if you are legal or undocumented if you look like you might not have the proper ethnic background. I read about those who have decided it is too dangerous to stay here. I wonder about my own church community which is probably close to 50% latino. I worry about the children who will be ripped out of schools — and for those they will leave behind.

If that weren’t enough concern, the legislature decided to change the rules for things like health insurance for teachers who retire after December 1. There are many stories in the news about the loss of personnel from school systems that will result from this. I know people who have suddenly decided to get out now… and “now” means in the middle of the school year. To finish the school year as a teacher or administrator or lunch room manager means losing ground. The timing is insanity for teachers, principals and students.

My snarky, dark side sits back and thinks: Well, maybe we won’t need the teachers, etc because there will be fewer students. Could be.

The sad part is that those who think these laws and changes are good, are probably not going to see the effects first hand. As best I can figure, politicians and legislators inhabit a different universe from the one I live in.  They will find a way to blame the innocent and the victims for the problems they themselves have created and fostered.

I cry for Alabama. I fear Alabama will get what she deserves.

A couple of days ago I was searching for an image of a First Years stroller for a review on a website, toady Amazon sends me email suggesting 10 First Years strollers that they hope I’m interested in buying. I get suggestions for protein and energy bars, electronics, books… If I ever browsed for something they know it and are ready to keep it in front of me.

Google and Gmail are not as obtrusive, but they also pay very close attention.

Privacy is an illusion. I am pretty sure of that. So, it seems that one had better be in touch and comfortable with all those things that one searches and follows. Pure at heart? Or at least ready to own our own vices and curiosities… Because Big Brother is just around the corner.

But I had a moment of slight sadness. Watching the cousins (the bride and groom’s children and their cousins who made it to the event) I so wished that the southern cousins (our 3) could have been there. They get together maybe every 2 or 3 years at the beach in the summer, and all showed up for each of our 3 weddings. I was sorry that David, Marie and Daniel (and their spouses) were unable to make the trip. It always does my heart good to see them together.

There is a bond there that sometimes seems a mystery to me. They know that they are connected despite differences and distances. Wouldn’t it be a better world if this kind of connection existed in abundance the world over? We are all one grand family in this world, but how easily we can forget the connection. Or maybe, like me, we often feel so very disconnected.

So — here’s to connectedness. Here’s to the fun of seeing blended families that work. Here’s to seeing a former sister-in-law that I haven’t seen in more than 15 years (and it was really great to see her and no, she wasn’t at the wedding, just happened to be at the same place earlier in the day). Here’s to self-written vows, a justice of the peace and a glass stomped in true Jewish tradition.

Don’t get me wrong here — I want every child to be able to develop to her/his own potential. I do want some recognition that each child’s potential can be quite different.

So, what happens? Too often, teachers find that they must “Teach to the test.” Teach only those things that someone has decreed to be essential, because if any child can’t master this enough to fill in the proper circle on the page, then the entire year is a failure. Leaves little room for preparing those kids to think, to experiment, to learn even more (or less) than the prescribed lesson.

It seems rather like church. I didn’t grow up a Catholic, but even I can start to give a Baltimore Catechism answer to Who is God? Why did God Make Us? It’s true that catechism (Baltimore or New) answers can give a starting point for exploring my own walk in faith. So often, it seems, rote answers are the end of this journey, not the beginning. The proper answer is what is expected. It is the test. The Church teaches to the Test, instead of leading people beyond or pointing people to the Source.  I have a strong sense that Jesus wasn’t looking for everyone to be average.

Just thinking… that’s all.

The priest started down the road of Peter being designated as the Rock, and that his example is to keep his focus on Yahweh — on I AM. And, it strikes me that we, as Catholics, get it wrong many times. What I see in the gospel lesson is to keep my focus on Jesus/I AM/God. Peter is a great example of that. What I don’t see is that I should keep my focus on Peter (or JPII or Benedict).

Just my take on it.

Say what?

I paused to think on that. It seems to make sense now. When you begin to get to a place physically and emotionally that is approximating “right” — I think perhaps you do start to “look like yourself.” I’ve gotten rid of some of that padding that might have been useful to hide behind. I spent a very long time working at being comfortable with who I am emotionally and spiritually… it’s often not easy for some of us to see and experience our own emotions and situations without running and hiding.

So — I think this is good. I rather like the idea of looking like myself. Even if that self has flaws, gets angry for reasons that are difficult to suss out and still carries a bit too much padding.

Perhaps I can get better at organizing stuff, deciding what needs to be done with something and then letting go until I am in a place to deal with it. Sounds good. Sounds even better to decide whether I want to keep getting email from certain lists that require my attention or should I just unsubscribe and be done with it. It sounds good to get control of “stuff” that can clog the brain/mind and free up the mind to be present in the moment.

As I listened, I found myself thinking how nice it is when I get things cleaned up, named, organized, and put out of my mind. I thought of the times in my life when I felt overwhelmed and immobilized because I couldn’t even decide what action I wanted to take. My mind would race all night. I would wake up and be unable to quiet my mind. One technique that helped was to drag out rosary beads. As I started a decade, instead of meditating on a prescribed mystery, I would name one of the issues that wouldn’t leave me alone and hand it over to Mary or Jesus or God (depended on how I felt); by the end of a decade, I could often let go of that one thing; then, I repeat the process with the next thought/problem that was racing through my head; over and over until I could sleep for a bit. Using rosary beads freed me up from any kind of counting — just repeat Hail Mary until my fingers told me I was done with the particular thought.

And so, I do understand the joy of organizing things, deciding on an action and relying on a system to tell me when I was done, or ready to move to the next thing. This frees me up to deal with other, larger, issues. But, it’s not just letting go that helps. Naming the problem/issue/desire means that I no longer let it control me. There is a certain release in a “tag and bag” approach to those mundane things that have to be done.

Now, it’s been well over a week since I listened to that radio show and this week I find myself in Nike mode: Just Do It! That applies to little things like sweeping the hall, mopping the foyer, pitching the mail. Not big stuff, but getting it decided on and done certainly helps make room for more serious or intense thought. I think I’ll try to stick with it.