Wreaths Across America

Remember. Honor. Teach.

12/12/15 – Fort Harrison, Helena MT

Opening prayer

Thank you for inviting me to be here.

I am not an ordained clergyman but a man grateful to worship our creator as I freely choose. That free choice did not come without sacrifice. The ultimate sacrifice. 

Paying respects to those who made the sacrifice for our freedom is why we are here.

We gather here today to honor and pay homage to the things which bind us together as a people within one nation. Though we are all unique, we can agree on the enduring power of the human spirit which defines as a country.

I invite all of you join me in a moment of silence to allow us to collect our thoughts and to focus on the gratitude we all have that today we woke in country where freedom, liberty and individual are valued before all else. Without the sacrifices of those we remember today, our individual wills might have been lost, melted into nothingness by the evil forces which relentlessly seek to do us harm and destroy our sovereignty.

No matter what we may believe, there is something more here than just ourselves, something greater than just what each of us could ever bring to this place. Many of you have been willing to risk the loss of your lives to protect those things we cherish and we thank you for that willingness.

During the silence, if you wish to join me in prayer, please do so but I ask that we all reflect on the full measure of courage, commitment, duty and loyalty that allows normal humans to step into extraordinary circumstances and become heroes.

Silence

Thank you.

Closing Remarks

We began today with a moment of silence. I am going to invite you to join me again in silence but while we don’t speak out with words, please let human spirit within each of us speak out to the silence. As we leave this hallowed place, please let what we have seen, heard and felt hear nourish the unending gratitude and appreciation we owe the fallen. If you pray, I invited to again pray with me but let us all reflect on what we have heard that we may better pack away the words and thoughts of remembrance that we came here to share. Remember them when see a flag gently waving in the breeze or when we gazing upon the haunting whiteness of gravestones. We are free today because of them. We owe them everything we can offer.

Silence

Thank you. Let us depart secure in knowing we have shared the blessings of belief and freedom our nation provides because of the willingness of the many to sacrifice for rest of us. 

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.

Shepherd

Long before God, through His son Jesus, taught us to call him “Father” and long before we were called to an intimate knowledge of Him, human to human, through Jesus, God revealed himself as a shepherd to us. Throughout the Psalms, God tells us that He is our God and we the people he shepherds. The only name we were given by him for us to call him was “I am” but we could understand his nature by thinking of him as being a shepherd.

While we all relate and are comforted to God as a shepherd, much of what it means to be a shepherd is no longer part of our modern understanding. In the US, the numbers of sheep being raised has plummeted many fold over the last 50 years. While we still see flocks of sheep as we drive through the country side or walk through the stalls at a fair, the common language of the shepherd has been lost. Flocks, diminished in numbers, are still tended but the work is done by men and women who go out to the field to tend the sheep but then return a home that is not out in the fields or pastures with the sheep.

When I was very young there were still great flocks of sheep throughout the west and in my home country of Beaverhead and Madison counties. My great uncle kept both sheep and cattle, something that was not common until the 50’s and 60’s years. Most of the large sheep ranchers hired shepherds to accompany the flocks during the spring, summer and early fall months while the sheep were in distant pastures and ranges. I have only the slightest memory of a shepherd who must have worked for my uncle and his brother-in- law who owned a neighboring ranch.

As a caution, I cannot be certain if the memories are real or if what I remember is really just a blending of images and learned knowledge piled up in my head over the years. If what I share is not the truth, literally, I hope to share a truth we can all grasp.

My uncle’s shepherd was a Basque man who seemed old and very mysterious. He wore dark clothing very different than the denim and button up shirts we all wore and his hat looked like a stretched out Irish flat cap similar to hats worn by many of the Irish in Butte and Anaconda instead of broad brimmed western hat associated with ranch life. I don’t recall his name, if I ever knew it, so I will just call him “Artzain” which, according to Google is the Basque word meaning shepherd. He was the only person I have ever known whose vocation was to be shepherd.

Artzain arrived in mid spring when lambing season was getting started and he lived in the bunk house behind the barn through the spring until lambs were weaned and it was time to move the sheep out to the summer range. Artzain drove a WWII vintage Dodge Powerwagon pickup equipped with an old style shepherd’s wagon modified to fit in the bed of the pickup. The wagon was originally an old buckboard with a modified Conestoga type design. Inside was a bunk, a small wood stove and some pots to cook with and limited basics to serve as food stuff.

From the time the sheep reached the summer range until the first frosts signaled it was time to move the flocks back to the winter pasture, Artzain remained with the sheep 24 hours a day except for one or two days a month when he drove back to the range to collect his pay from the my uncle. Artzain would take a few dollars from the envelope and head into Dillon for a day or two before heading back to the range. My uncle would then put the rest of the pay back in his big desk until the end of the season. 

There were rumors what Artzain would do while in Dillon. Some of the stories involved big dinners at the Lion’s Den. Others involved lots of drinking at a bar frequented by other ranch hands and shepherds which sometimes involved in some fisticuffs between shepherds and cowboys. The only thing I can really remember was that Artzain said he went to Dillon so he could go to mass at St. Rose of Lima. Coming from a protestant family, the concept of a Catholic Mass was the biggest mystery of all. He spoke in very heavily accented and broken language and seemed communicate best through facial expressions and hand gestures. I was never exactly sure what he was saying but given the frequent laughter that marked their exchanges, my uncle and he understood each other well enough.

At the end of the season, Artzain would take a few dollars from the pay envelope but then have my Aunt mail the rest somewhere. After the business was done, Artzain drove away to where I don’t know but would guess it would be the join the other Basques living in Idaho or Utah. I don’t know to who or where the money was sent but it was clear Artzain did not trust himself with the cash. At some point the story ended. I don’t recall when exactly but as my uncle and aunt prepared for retirement, much of the ranch was sold at the same time the demand for sheep great diminished. My father finished college and we moved further away so we spent considerably less time at the ranch. Artzain and the rest of his kind faded first from the landscape and then from memory.

This story is not so much about who Artzain was but what he did and how his vocation could be associated with God and we who are his flock.

So what does a shepherd really do? We think of a shepherd as being in charge, being a master, if you will, of his flock. This seems to fit in well with the social construct of the ancient near east in which culture as defined by a master/servant relationship. Everyone had a place either as a master or servant in any particular setting and from the very top of a community to the very bottom. A master would tell the servant where to go, what to do, when to do it and so on. The servant would comply or be punished. The rules were very simple.

It is easy to see God as shepherd who masters throughout the Old and New Testaments. Our entire history as a people of God is that of a people called to respond to the will of God. God called us out of Egypt, he told us what to do to feed ourselves in the desert during the Exodus and gave us a law to follow to seek his favor. Truly, if the shepherd says “Go”, the sheep must to go where directed or risk consequences.

There is more, however. Artzain remained with the sheep day in and day out. Whether the sun was gently and warm or blasting hot, whether wind was a comforting breeze or a freezing gale, whether rain was gentle or poured down, whether the moon rose up to brighten the darkened night sky or clouds obscured its journey, the shepherd remained. What the sheep encountered, he encountered as well. If a coyote edged in at night, the shepherd would keep watch to drive him away. If an eagle circled over a young lamb, the shepherd would stand guard. The shepherd suffered with the sheep, he tended their wounds, searched out the lost sheep and kept watch to be sure they ate well but did not overgraze a pasture. He was not just their master, he served them as well.

To understand God as shepherd is not to see him as just a master but in the person of Jesus, we see him as our servant. He brings us what we lack, he knows what we want.

Want

We pray in the Psalm we shall not know want. What does it mean to not know want? This Psalm is familiar to me from all the way back to first grade when we were taught to recite the Psalm by memory. To a 6 year old, to not know want is to have all of the basic needs provided. Clothing, food, shelter, toys and so on. Beyond those things, to not know want was to feel loved, cherished, cared for and to note be alone. At 60, I have come to believe to not know want is more than having physical needs met. We all experience illness, thirst, hunger, grief and poverty even if don’t know any of them in great measure. We have witnessed those who have been struck by those things in great measure remain faithful to God despite their hardships. The lesson from them is to not know want is to embrace Christ and to seek food and drink only he can offer us which brings purpose and value to our human lives and find consolation and compassion which will bring comfort from affliction.

The shepherd cannot hide from the blazing sun or dry up the snows and rains which threaten life. The shepherd cannot stop the wind or prevent all danger from finding the flock. The good shepherd remains with the flock and shares and understands their joys and sorrows. He celebrates their success and comforts them when they are injured. The shepherd knows everything that happens to his flock and he shares in their lives. In return the flock knows the shepherd and they rely on him for everything. The lesson for us to be like the flock and know God and to rely on him for every need and we will be freed from want.

The psalm concludes with the answer to the riddle of what it means to not know want. It is to know that through green or parched fields, through still or raging waters, through the very moment of death, we will know goodness and mercy all the days of our lives. Mercy, to know mercy regardless of all else is to always to be from want.

Mercy is the gift of the Shepherd to his flock that surpasses all other things. 

Committal Service - Carey Ann Hert

Fort Harrison Cemetery- Helena, MT

November 12, 2015

I suspect most if not all of you feel like what has happened over the past few days is unreal. The fact we have gathered here today to say goodbye to Carey must feel very, very strange. These feelings are normal and they almost always happen when death visits someone close to us.

During the time we have gathered together, I hope we can experience a good goodbye and share time that is filled with laughter and with tears.

I spent some time with Carey’s great friends Kelly and Michele to learn about Carey so I could make this time personal for you. One thing we learned is that both Carey and I love Celtic Spirituality. That shared appreciation allows me to weave some thoughts and feelings from Celtic spirituality into this service.

Over the past few years I have spent considerable time studying the work of the late John O’Donohue who was a Catholic Priest and theologian but was also a native Irish speaking philosopher and poet. I even spent time in Ireland last year pursuing my study. I have found his insight into human nature extraordinarily comforting and encouraging and he speaks to me not only as a Catholic but as someone who has also searched for those things of ultimate concern that bind all of us together regardless of faith. I hope you also find his teaching comforting. Let us begin with these thoughts on death.

WHEN DEATH VISITS . . .

Death is a lonely visitor. After it visits your home, nothing is ever the same again. There is an empty place at the table; there is an absence in the house. Having someone close to you die is an incredibly strange and desolate experience. Something breaks within you then that will never come together again. Gone is the person whom you loved, whose face and hands and body you knew so well. This body, for the first time, is completely empty. This is very frightening and strange. After the death many questions come into your mind concerning where the person has gone, what they see and feel now. The death of a loved one is bitterly lonely. When you really love someone, you would be willing to die in their place. Yet no one can take another’s place when that time comes. Each one of us has to go alone. It is so strange that when someone dies, they literally disappear. Human experience includes all kinds of continuity and discontinuity, closeness and distance. In death, experience reaches the ultimate frontier. The deceased literally falls out of the visible world of form and presence. At birth you appear out of nowhere, at death you disappear to nowhere. . . . The terrible moment of loneliness in grief comes when you realize that you will never see the deceased again. The absence of their life, the absence of their voice, face, and presence become something that, as Sylvia Plath says, begins to grow beside you like a tree.

We all know that to have a loved one die is to know true sadness and to experience profound grief. For all of you there is sadness and grief that Carey is gone, sadness and grief because she had to suffer from a terrible illness and to die so young. The sadness and grief are real and to deny them would be to wound yourself in way that healing will never come. It is ok to be sad and to grieve but the sadness and grief should be for we who have remained behind but not for Carey. Let’s hear what John O’Donohue has to say about grief:

We do not need to grieve for the dead. Why should we grieve for them? They are now in a place where there is no more shadows, darkness, loneliness, isolation, or pain. They are home.

Here are some facts about Carey.

Carey Ann Hert was born December 9, 1969 in Helena, Montana and died on October 25, 2015 in Kirkland, Washington. She was the wife of Carey Hert, the mother of Justin, Colin and Brittin and the step-mother of Tyler, Ryan and Ashlee. She was the sister of Charleen, Harley and Trampus and the Granddaughter of Charlene. Of course she was also a cousin, niece and aunt and, to an even larger number, a great friend.

These things, though, are just facts which cannot describe who she was or the impact she had on all of you over the years of your lives together. In an obituary we read a person was born on a certain day and died on certain day.

On most gravestones, the date of birth and the date of death are separated by dash. The day we are born and the day we day are really transition dates, they don’t really describe our lives. We live our lives in the dash. Let’s talk about the dash that was Carey’s life.

The dash for Carey represents the joy she knew when each of you, her children, were born. The dash marks when you and she met, fell in love and married, Carey. The dash are days she spent you in Cabo. The dash is when she convinced you, Carey, to buy a Harley so she could look so beautiful riding behind you with her arms around your waist. The dash is about her love for fast cars with big engines. The dash was marked by Carey’s love of shooting and hunting. The dash, of course, is when Mackey wormed his way into her heart.

There is more - the dash is when Cary’s anger at you would boil up like a summer storm but then fade away to be replaced by the sweetness of forgiveness which would grow up and join you together again. For Carey, more than anything, the dash was a time of passion, a passion for each of you and for all people. There is something about passion that became very clear to me as I visited with Michele and Kelly and later when I looked at pictures of Carey. Her passion was indomitable.

Through your tears and laughter I promise you this. Her passion will keep her close to you. The mark her passion made on each of you is indelible and will keep you company on your own journeys. I believe this with all my heart.

Why is there suffering and death?

A question each of us has today is why Carey had to suffer and die. Every day we hear about miracles of people with terrible diagnoses being healed and who get to go on with life. It would be normal for you to ask how a loving God could let something like this happen not only to Carey but to anyone who knows pain and suffering. The simple answer is not an easy answer but it is a true answer. It is because God created us to be free and freedom has to have choices and consequences or it is not really freedom.

In the bible when we read about miracles performed by Jesus, he does not say to those healed, “Go, your faith has healed you.” Instead, he says, “Go, your faith saved you.” Healing is about the here and now and it is temporary. Even if we are healed today, inevitably our lives will come to an end and we will encounter death. Being saved is about the hereafter. The real promise God makes us is that he is with us always through all the days of our life and he will offer us a place in eternity with him.

I do not believe it was God’s will that Carey should contract cancer and die but I believe that what has happened is part of God’s plan for us. Life is the time when our souls inhabits a body. Eternal life begins when our soul is freed from our body. Carey is now free. The Celts believe this, “The human journey is a continuous act of transfiguration.”

Because of her human death Carey has transfigured from a body with a soul to a soul in the presence of God.

From Celtic spirituality we also learn this: If you live in this world with kindness, if you don't add to other people's burdens, but if you try to serve love, when the time comes for you to make the journey, you will receive a serenity, peace and a welcoming freedom that will enable you to go to the other world with great elegance, grace and acceptance.

This happened for Carey.

I also believe in the infinite mercy of God. I know He has looked deep into Carey’s heart and he will grant her his peace, a peace we will be able sense but not touch. I also believe God will help us with our own sorrow if we look to him for help. The reason I am here with you is that I believe with all my heart and soul that if we believe in God and seek his mercy, we will never die but will live with him forever.

Passion

Before we say goodbye, there are just a few more things I would like share. From Celtic spirituality we also learn the way we look at things is the most powerful force in shaping our life. That means a person of great passion inspires passion in those people fortunate enough to journey with her. Here a just a couple of things which prove the point.

Michele Wigert wrote this:

Beyond personal possession, the greatest gift Carey gave us was a moment, or a lifetime of her and presence in our lives; that, in itself is priceless.

Shauna ask me to share this:

She was a bright spot in my life and now when I look up at the twinkling of stars, I will think of Carey’s twinkling eyes and her incredible laugh!

Becky wanted to say this:

She was her husband’s love of her life. They had a too short but wonderful love story. Her strength, beauty, sassiness and charm endeared her to many people.

Goodbye

Here is a question. Where is Carey now? This is what the Celt’s tell us.

When the soul leaves the body, it is no longer under the burden and control of space and time. The soul is free; distance and separation hinder it no more. The dead are our nearest neighbors; they are all around us. A great theologian was once asked, “Where does the soul of a person go when the person dies?” He said, “no place.” Where else would the soul be going? Where else is the eternal world? It can be nowhere other than here.

This what my faith enables me to believe. Those close to us are not far away. They are as close to us as our next thought, our next memory. When we remember Carey, she will be right there with you. Her passion for each of you did not end with her death. Our faith allows us to believe that. The tree that grows in us that I talked about early on is the tree of life that is covered with leaves of memory. As time goes by, the memories will soften and sweeten and you won’t remember just what happened during her illness and passing. You will remember the sound of her voice when she answered the phone. You will remember the times when she told you she loved you and you will remember when you told her the same thing. I promise you heaven is right here in front of us. You will know it too if you allow the kindness of memories to show you what you cannot see today.

Blessing

It is time to say our final goodbyes to our sister Carey. Allow me to offer this blessing of her ashes before we place her to rest.

Carey, may perpetual light shine upon your face and the faces of all who rest here with you.

May the life you and all these others lived unfold further in spirit with God and all who have gone before you.

May the remembering earth hold on to every memory you brought.

May the rains from the heavens fall gently upon this place.

May the wildflowers and grasses whisper their wishes into the light and delight you.

May we reverence the presence of you and those who rest with you in the stillness of this silent field.

May God bless you and keep you close to you, may he let his grace settle upon you and may he keep you in his peace.

As for us, bless us and keep us, keep your face turned toward us, and grant us healing and peace.

Amen

A Wedding

Richard and Michaela 

August 8, 2015

So while it may have taken too long, we have finally arrived here today to celebrate a wedding.

If you wish, please bow your heads and join me in a prayer of collection to begin the ceremony.

Opening prayer

Heavenly Father, we invite you to be present with us today as witness the marriage of Richard and Michaela. Thank you for the safe travel of all who have come from afar to join this celebration and we also give you thanks for this grand and beautiful day and this grand and beautiful place. Bless us all with your presence and your love, not just for this day but for all days. Amen

On behalf of Richard and Michaela, I would like to welcome of you have made the effort to travel here to be a part of this celebration. The presence of each and every one of you is deeply appreciated. We would like to pay particular thanks to some very special guests who very appropriately here to witness the joining of Richard and Michaela in marriage.

First, I would like to acknowledge Michaela’s grandmother and this lady here, my mother, Richard’s grandmother Lois. Thank you for all that you have always done for us. From you, through us, to them the line will remain unbroken.

Next I would like to acknowledge Richard’s Aunt and Uncle, Dale and Renie Ludwig who have traveled from Alaska to be here. 13 years ago, Lori and I privileged to fly to Anchorage to witness the wedding of their daughter Anna. Thank you for being here to return the favor with your presence.

There are 2 other couples I would like to call special attention to now because if they had not been part of the lives of Lori and me 3 decades ago we would not be here today.

Kathy and Sandy and Paul and Scott.

So why are we are here today? Of course the answer is we are here to witness you two exchange vows and become husband and wife. It is you two who are going to be doing the important work. We are just here to watch and cheer you on.

The next question is, why should you marry each other?

Michaela, look at Richard. Do you see that look he has right now? Lori and I never saw that look on his face before he met you and we see on it him whenever you are around.

Richard, look at Michaela. Do you see that look? Lori and I never see that look her face unless you are around. I bet if I ask John and Jody they would agree that Michaela never looked like this before she met you.

The love, the commitment, the desire, the devotion and passion that look represents is why you are here today. You should plan to spend the rest of your life with the person who puts that look on your face. The Irish have an understanding of what this means. The term they use to describe what you are for each other is Anam Cara – soul friend.

The late Irish priest, spiritualist and poet John O’Donohue says this about Anam Cara

“In everyone's life, there is great need for an anam cara, a soul friend. In this love, you are understood as you are without mask or pretension. The superficial and functional lies and half-truths of social acquaintance fall away, you can be as you really are. Love allows understanding to dawn, and understanding is precious. Where you are understood, you are at home. Understanding nourishes belonging. When you really feel understood, you feel free to release yourself into the trust and shelter of the other person's soul. This recognition is described in a beautiful line from Pablo Neruda: "You are like nobody since I love you." This art of love discloses the special and sacred identity of the other person. Love is the only light that can truly read the secret signature of the other person's individuality and soul. Love alone is literate in the world of origin; it can decipher identity and destiny.”

So what is marriage? Why should any couple choose to get married? You have already proven you can establish a mutually beneficial, committed and genuine union outside marriage. You have experienced the ups and down, the goods and bads, time of sorrow and times of joy. So what possible difference can it make just to sign a piece of paper and make it legal?

The truth is we are not here because you need to get your marriage license signed. A wedding is more than just a legal event. Your license is really just a contract but marriage is more than a contract, it is a covenant.

I have to be aware of the fact there are a number of lawyers in the family so I am going to have to pick my next words carefully otherwise the judge just might have to stand up and correct me as I talk about the difference between a contract and a covenant.

A contract is very simple. It requires the completion of a promise and consideration. Without either element, there is no contract. If either party fails to hold up their end of the agreement, the contract is broken and ceases to exist.

A covenant is very different. In a covenant, you make a very different kind of agreement in which each of you promise to fulfill your part regardless of whether or not the other one keeps their part. A convent can endure forever as long as one of you keeps to the bargain. Believe me there are times in every marriage there can be times one of you will have to keep to the bargain until the other one is ready to do their part again. The commitment which defines the covenant will sustain you during the down times and bring you joy in the up times.

Anyone who has been married more than seconds will swear to the truth of this observation:

Every friendship travels at some time through the black valley of despair. This tests every aspect of your affection. You lose the attraction and the magic. Your sense of each other darkens and your presence is sore. If you can come through this time, it can purify with your love, and falsity and need will fall away. It will bring you onto new ground where affection can grow again.

So there is yet another reason to be get married. The vows you exchange today will bind you together in front of all of us and what is witnessed is made strong through the commitment of the witnesses. We are here for you. We believe in your relationship and we are committed to helping you make your marriage a success. Let the example of the strong marriages enjoyed by your friends and family encourage you and give you examples of sustain your relationship from this day on.

You are bringing the power of community into your relationship and we have a stake in your marriage. What does that mean? It is very simple. When a couple is married, they join and become part of the foundation of our society. The fact that you two are getting married means something very instinctual.

With your marriage comes a promise for the future. It means that we as a people have a chance to go on, to continue to the next generation. In a way, your marriage completes us and that is why we are here, to become part of the completion.






Vows

This business about making vows is a very serious business. Throughout human history, exchanging vows has been the foundation of our society. If we can’t make a promise and then keep the promise, everything will fall apart.

Over time some elaborate rituals evolved around exchanging vows, or to put it another way, swearing an oath of commitment.

From Irish culture comes a very beautiful understanding of what it means to swear an oath.

They believed if you swore your oath into water, the water would hear but then water would flow away and your words would be lost. If you swore your oath into the sand, the sand would hear but then over time the sand would wash away and, again, your words would be lost. If you swear your oath into the air, the air would hear but then your words would be blown away with the wind. Your words, of course, would be lost.

There is hope, another way of making your vows. If you swear to each other with a stone as your witness, the stone will hear and remember your words not just for today but for period of time longer than the measure of your lives so long as you protect the stone from harm through your devotion to each other.

Here is what is called an oathing stone. It is made of granite that is older than a million generation of humans. In every way that we can understand such things, this stone is eternal and it will remember what you say to each other today forever. What happens here today will never be undone because what the stone hears will never be forgotten.

^^^ Vows.






Post vow sharing

Every parent hopes that if their children should marry that they would find someone worthy of them. When I say that, some old stereotypes come to mind, right? I am sure John and Jody were concerned that Michaela would find someone to marry who was tall, handsome, kind, intelligent and treated her like a princess. In short they were looking for someone good enough for her.

Of course, Lori and I wanted Richard to find someone who was beautiful, smart, devoted to him and worshipped the ground he walked him. Like John and Jody, we wanted to someone good enough for him.

I am not talking about those kind of things, however, I talking about a very different measurement of what it means to be worthy of each other. True worth that will nourish a lifelong relationship is not measured by what each of you have but by what you are willing to give away. It is really a very simple concept but it takes a lifetime of practice to get right.

If you make the commitment to always put the other person first in every significant way every day, your marriage will grow into something that will be worthy of the admiration of others. Make a habit of doing little things that can point to a bigger truth. When you set the table, set the other ones place first. When you cook a meal, invite the other to fill their plate first. Whoever is first should hold the door open for the other. That way it comes time to talk about big decisions like buying a another house or having children you will already be used to considering how what one of you might do might impact the other.

Being worthy has little to do with physical or tangible things but it has everything to with who you are on the inside.

John O’Donohue says this.

“One of the tasks of true friendship is to listen compassionately and creatively to the hidden silences. Often secrets are not revealed in words, they lie concealed in the silence between the words or in the depth of what is unsayable between two people.”

To be worthy of one another means you have the ability to know the heart of the other. Know this. Love is not a feeling or state of mind. Love is an action, it requires commitment, and to love is to do something for the benefit of another and not yourself.

There is a benefit. Love allows understanding to dawn, and understanding is precious. Where you are understood, you are at home. Understanding nourishes belonging. When you really feel understood, you feel free to release yourself into the trust and shelter of the other person's soul.

This kind of love requires a constant commitment, a daily effort to feed the understanding which nourishes our belonging together. This is the true measure of worth. We all together ask this of you, be worthy of another.






The blessing:

May love awaken in your life and be in the night of your heart;

May love always be like the dawn breaking within you;

May there no longer be anonymity between, but may you enjoy always intimacy;

May where before there was fear, now there only be courage;

May where once your life there was awkwardness, now there will be a rhythm of grace and gracefulness;

May where before you used to be jagged, now you are elegant and in rhythm with yourself;

May when love awakens in your life, it is like a rebirth, a new beginning, and may this happen every day;

May you experience each day as a sacred gift woven around the heart of wonder;

May all that is unlived in you blossom into a future graced with love;

May you each always be a friend who is a loved one who awakens your life in order to free the wild possibilities within each of you;

And may, at the end of your days, you be able to say to one another, “I am glad we did and not I wish we had.”






Closing Prayer

Richard, you already know this prayer. Your mother and I prayed it with you and Brian most every night of your childhoods. It seems fitting to pray it again today as your mother and I witness you begin a new chapter of your life as a husband to Michaela.



Lord, you taught us to share this blessing with one another and we ask you permission to share it again today.

We pray,

The LORD bless you and keep you!

The LORD let his face shine upon you, and be gracious to you!

The LORD look upon you kindly and give you peace!



Father, we ask you to also:

Bless us and keep us!

Let your face shine upon us and be gracious to us.

Look upon us kindly and give us your peace.



Amen

Genesis 16
Manna from Heaven

In today’s Old Testament reading, we find the Hebrews, in spite of all that God had done for them, complaining about their food situation. They spoke with nostalgia of the “fleshpots” of Egypt and the abundance of food they had when they lived there. Apparently, all the hardships from which they were so anxious to escape, were now all forgotten. And, once again, they laid all the blame on Moses for bringing them to a place where they could only die of starvation.

A patient God heard their complaint and told Moses of his plan to rain down ‘bread’ from heaven on them every day. As a gift from God, the manna was said to come from the sky. It may, in fact, have been something similar to a natural substance still found in small quantities on the Sinai peninsula, but here it is, at least in part, clearly miraculous.

However, there were some rules to test their obedience to God’s law. Each day they were to pick just what they needed and no more; and, on the day before the Sabbath, they were to pick a double portion. Clearly, there was to be no gathering of manna on the Sabbath.

This message was passed on by Moses to Aaron who announced it to the people. The message was clearly understood by the Israelites and intended to put a stop to their grumbling.

Moses was told to tell the people that, from now on, in the evening they would have their fill of meat and in the morning their fill of ‘bread’. Sure enough, that evening a flock of quails came and covered the camp and, in the morning, they saw what looked like hoarfrost all over the ground. When they first saw it, they asked: “What is that?” and were told by Moses, “This is the bread which the Lord has given you to eat.” ‘What is that?’ is represented in Hebrew as man hu and is taken to be the origin of the word ‘manna’.

God said this was to be a test for the people. How was it to be a test? The instructions were clear and unambiguous. Gather only as much as could be consumed in one day but on the 6th day enough for 2 days was to be gathered. Pretty simple. What could wrong? Well, for one thing, it did not take long for some smart person to suggest that if they picked enough Manna to last for several days, they could sleep in the next few days and have more time for dominos or just laying around in the shade.

Of course, they screwed it up. God, in response, made sure whatever food was left over at the end of day would became “wormy and stank” overnight except on the day enough was to be gathered to be consumed on the Sabbath. It was not “legal” of course to “work” on the Sabbath by collecting Manna.

What lesson is there for us to learn? God wanted the Hebrews to rely on his blessings every day. He would not permit them to turn their back on him by drifting away if they had plenty of food so he made sure they had to work for their daily bread every day. We should also realize that we need to rely on God’s blessing every day. It is not enough to worship and honor him on the Sabbath or on Tuesdays and alternating Thursdays. We need to renew our commitment to him every day because every day we don’t we drift further away from him and, before we know it happened, we become separated. This separation is where the sin of prideful self-reliance takes root. We don’t need manna every day to physically live but we do need God’s blessing every day to live spirituality.

Like the ancient Hebrews, we can fall prey to our grievances and to forget the wonderful blessings we have received in life, blessings which are showered down us every day.

Let us count our blessings today and say a big Thank You to our God and Lord.

The Conversation.

On Friday, since the day was nice and the breezes gentle, I went up to sit under a covered deck on the third floor of the building where I work to take a few minutes to engage in prayer and take a break from writing year end evaluations.

I had only been seated a few moments when I began to hear bits and pieces of a woman shouting in anger from the street below. I stood, looked over the balcony and saw a young woman I work with, angrily yelling through a rolled down window at a man seated in the driver’s seat of a car parked in one of the angled parking places near the entrance of our building.

Her back was mostly turned toward me so I could only see her face part but I could see enough to know this was not just a disagreement I was observing but a full on confrontation. She is actually very lovely and while I did not know her well, she had always been very sweet and kind. As an IT support person, her job was to trouble shoot workstations issues and I had never seen her be anything but patient and helpful. Yesterday, however, her features were twisted with anger, her face red and she gestured and pointed wildly at the man in the car.

Because of distance, I could only hear snippets of what she was screaming. Things like, “I can’t believe you would do something like this” and “After all of our time together to have you suddenly change your mind” and “There is no going back now.” She suddenly turned and stormed away through the front door of the building. The man continued to sit in the car and I could see him shaking his head back and forth and pounding the steering wheel with one hand. It was only then I observed there was a third person there, a woman sitting in the passenger seat of the car who was also waving her hand in a way which clearly demonstrated she want the man to drive them away. After only a few more moments, he backed out of the parking spot and sped away with his tires spinning as he accelerated.

I sat back down so I could re-engage my breviary but just then the young lady burst through the doors and out onto the deck. She looked over and saw me sitting there. She locked eyes with me, her features drawn and pinched. Realizing I must have overhead the encounter with the man in the car in the street, she burst into tears and kept repeating, “I am sorry, I am sorry, I am sorry,” shaking her head back and forth.

I got up, went over to her, and putting one hand on each shoulder, guided her into a chair. I sat next to her and just waited. She quickly regained her composure and wiped the tears away as best she could. Without looking at me she began to talk. Slowly at first, spilling out parts of sentences which did not make much sense. Then seeming to gain momentum, she told me the story. It is a quite simple story, really, and one that is all too common.

She had been married for a couple of years to a man she been in a relationship with for over 8 years before the wedding. They had traveled through Europe and worked on fishing boats in Alaska together. She worked as an IT support person and as waitress to support the man while he finished his degree and became a CPA. It was time, she thought, for children. It was time, he thought, to fall in love with someone else and leave.

When the story was done she finally looked at me with a face which had given up anger but had fallen into sorrow. I told her I would pray for her because that is what I do best. Finally smiling, even if it was just slight, sly smile and said she had heard I was a monk or something like that. I smiled back and told her, yes, I am something like that and invited her to seek me out again if she wanted to just talk. She said she would consider it but we both knew it is unlikely another meeting will take place. For her sake, I hope we don’t if it is because she has to once again talk herself back from the abyss of anger.

There is one more thing. Now I can ask you all to pray for her as well. Pray she will be blessed in ways only God knows best for her.

For Rozanne

And so we gather again as a family to celebrate the life of Rozanne Davenport Koterba. Some of us have traveled from just down the road from here a piece but also from one coast to another and across continents to come to this place.

This is not the first time we have come to this green meadow grown wild with a riot of summer flowers and green grass. We were here 5 summers ago to say goodbye and it is for that reason we gather here again.

There is another whose presence we should invite to be present with us, one who is always with us, our Heavenly Father. Please join me in a prayer of invocation.

Jesus, we ask you to remember the sorrow felt because of the death of Lazarus. You know what is to grieve and feel loss. Send forth your healing spirit to console us today and to remind us there is also joy to embrace even through our broken hearts. Be with us, guide, support us, laugh with us this day and help our tears to dry. Be with us not just this day but always. We pray all this in your holy name. Amen

When we last came together in February, our hurt was fresh but now we have some time to heal, to reflect and to remember. We have learned life will continue on for us and while there is loss there is also a fullness which is given to us through the strength of memories and shared family bonds. Each day love grows to fill the emptiness many of you have felt every day.

The late poet, priest and spiritualist John O’Donohue had some profound wisdom to share with us before his own untimely passing. I would like to share some of the things he had to say because they remind me so much of Rozanne and our family.

Thinking back to those dark days in February, this comes to mind, “Sometimes people are very worried about dying. There is no need to be afraid. When the moment of your dying comes, you will be given everything that you need to make that journey in a graceful, elegant, and trusting way.”

Surely that describes her passing. There was no fear but there was grace and trust.

And there is this, “If you live in this world with kindness, if you don’t add to other people’s burdens, but if you try to serve love, when the time comes for you to make the journey, you will receive a serenity, peace and a welcoming freedom that will enable you to go to the other world with great elegance, grace and acceptance.”

Surely this all describes Rozanne, especially the kindness. She was always unfailingly kind and for that she now knows welcoming freedom.

Today is not just about Rozanne but also about Donny. The life they shared together in this world was interrupted by his death but now they are together again in the next world where they will never be separated again. In the gospel of Mark we are told that in heaven we will become like angels, creatures who exist only to love and serve each other and God. They will not know anger or jealousy or sorrow but will become completely fulfilled by God.

Let us now get to why we have come here today.

When we gathered before on another beautiful sun struck day and we shared together Psalm 121 which is called the Psalm of Ascents.

A song of ascents.

I raise my eyes toward the mountains.

From whence shall come my help? My help comes from the LORD, the maker of heaven and earth. He will not allow your foot to slip; or your guardian to sleep.

Behold, the guardian of Israel never slumbers nor sleeps.

The LORD is your guardian; the LORD is your shade at your right hand. By day the sun will not strike you, nor the moon by night. The LORD will guard you from all evil; he will guard your soul. The LORD will guard your coming and going both now and forever.

John O’Donohue also had this to say, ““At death, this physical separation is broken. The soul is released from its particular and exclusive location in this body. The soul then comes in to a free and fluent universe of spiritual belonging.”


It is time for the releasing.

We come from dust, our physical beings formed by things of this world and we walk upon dirt of the earth all of our days. Upon death, our physical presence is returned to dust and so we return to from where we first came. Our spirit is set free reach out to touch the face of God. We are set free. Knowing the freedom that awaits us should bring us all great consolation.

Now I ask that we each reach out and take the hand of whoever is standing nearby, and raise up our joined hands to heaven as we all together recite the Lord’s Prayer.

It is time to take leave of this place but we should take with us the memory of this day and our time together sure in the knowledge of God’s love for us and our love for each other.

Final Blessing

May the grace, peace and mercy of Christ Jesus the savior, God the Father and the Holy Spirit be with us this day and always through all of our comings and goings. Amen

I’ve been asking God a lot this year to help me find my purpose. The reality of it though, is that He has shown me what it is, but I’m struggling to accept that this is the road I must walk. What about what I want?! Doesn’t that count?

I have enjoyed my nice predictable schedule the past few years.  I have considerable control over when I do something and I live my life in a pretty tidy, orderly fashion. After years having been on call, I no longer flinch when my phone rings. So why am I am I being called to wade into the chaos to serve him?

And even as I speak it, I realize how strange it must all sound to Him. I ask Him to show me the way and when He does, instead of being grateful, I say ‘But wait, no, I don’t really like how this sounds. What about me, what about what I want? Doesn’t what I want matter?’

Today we encounter John I find myself feeling sheepish. I might have to hit the pause button and resume watching a program if I am called to serve. John was a little more committed. A lot more committed. As we say today, he was all in.

John the Baptist’s life isn’t one we would consider a ‘success’ if we measured it against the yardstick of conventional human achievement. He lived a hermetic life on the fringes of civilization. He wore wild clothes, foraged for his food. And though he inspired a following with his message of baptism and repentance, his ministry was eventually eclipsed by Jesus’. In the end, he died a gruesome death, at the hands of a foolish king and his vain daughter. Yet here was a man at whose birth, the angels declared, “… many will rejoice at his birth, for he will be great in the sight of the Lord”. This isn’t ‘greatness’ as we would know it, is it? Not in the conventional sense of the word at least.

When we ask God to show us His purpose for us, very often the answer surprises us and not always in a positive way. When that happens, it is important to remember that God doesn’t judge a purposeful life the same way we do. Not for Him the accolades and awards of achievement. Instead, He wants a contrite and humble heart, a heart willing to be led even into the desert, to the fringes of humanity. A heart that says ‘I do, despite my reservations because I trust you, Lord’. And our reward? Life everlasting with Him. Maybe what I should be praying for instead, is the courage and humility to say, ‘Let Thy will be done’ – and the endurance that is needed to follow through on it.

Prayer: We pray for those who are searching for their vocation and their purpose. We pray for the Holy Spirit to quieten their internal turmoil so that they may hear His quiet voice deep within.

Thanksgiving: We give thanks that God loves us despite all of the bad decisions we have made.

The Recipe

The recipe I would like to share has a story to tell which needs to be shared before the questions posed can be answered. Once told, however, I believe there to be a close relationship between the recipe and the subject matter of this course.

My wife comes from a North Central Montana farm family of German descent. Part of the history of many families was the passing down through the generations a recipe for sausage making which was source of pride not to mention some good natured competition. After all if you are participating in a sausage contest there are no losers, only happy people with full stomachs. My father in law, as my good fortune would have it, held a recipe that was one of the best around. Many people tried to make sausage that was tasty as Roger’s but while they might come up with a version that was tasty, the result was, well, not just quite right.

The problem with the recipe was that there was no recipe. Even when I was around to participate in the sausage making, I could not really tell how he was spicing nor could he really tell me. We started with 100 pounds of pork and 100 pounds of venison mixed together with paddle in a large tub. Handfuls of spice were tossed in and mixed in until the meat was well mixed, the meat looked right and had just the right smell. It is not that he would not have been happy to share his knowledge about how much of which spice to add but he never wrote down the recipe.

Some years after my father passed away before we could get the recipe nailed down, my in-laws encouraged me to take up the art to see if I could come up with my own recipe that would be a close representation of what become known as “Roger’s Farm Sausage.” I took up the challenge.

Working from memory, I gathered the spices I remembered he used. I asked other members of the family about what they could remember about how he went about spicing the sausage. Everyone I talked to had a slightly different version of how the process unfolded. Eventually I had enough information to get started so I started grinding, mixing, spicing, stuffing and smoking what hoped would pass for Roger’s Farm Sausage. Curiously, just about everyone who tried it, had a different suggestion what was needed to get sausage closer to the ideal sausage cherished in memory.

Overtime I finally came to understand the reality of certain facts. First, he never made the sausage exactly the same way from year to year. If one spice was too expensive or hard to find, another spice was substituted. He varied the kind of wood he used in the smoker and some years he used liquid smoke and didn’t use wood smoke at all. Second, people remembered different things about how the sausage tasted but they all remembered how they felt eating the sausage. Sunday brunch after Mass always involved a big serving of sausage that had been simmered slowly in a can of beer. The sausage meant the family was together. Finally, the recipe which was finally hammered out over time which was favored by all ended up very different from the first version I tried. The reality is that we all like food spicier now that in years past. The addition of red pepper was an addition of my own which accepted with gusto.

Now to the questions – what constitutes a good recipe? From my perspective the best recipe has a history that intertwines it through the generations and branches of family. The details are not as important as the connection made by just by sharing the meal. Getting the recipe right is part of the charm and enjoyment.

What are the elements we come to expect when reading a recipe? Proportions, measurements, steps, times and temperatures but most important step is the love that goes into the effort. Don’t all the best recipes create the foods we use as an excuse to gather together?

How are the elements arranged? There has to first be a gathering, then an arranging which is followed by the making but there always as to be indication at the end telling when it is time to eat.

Photographs are very helpful in helping you see what are creating should look like at different stages as well was what the finished product should look like. What it comes to sausage, words along will suffice. When the sausage has darkened from pink to a solid brown and is stiff to the touch, it is done. No picture is necessary.

Now for the connection I promised at the start. My story about the recipe reminds me of how Gospels came together. First there was an oral tradition that was handed out across the community and then down through the generations through a period of time measured in centuries. Finally, the Gospel was written down and argued into an acceptable version which was incorporated into the bible.

Dimes, Dogs and Cousins

5 Dimes

This is a short story, but it has many pieces that must come together quickly for any of it to make sense. It was not easy to write or read because affairs of the heart can be bittersweet to embrace. We were at the short end of a long goodbye, and the road before us grew steeper with every step.

This is a story about dimes, cousins, a father, a telephone man with a kind heart, his wife, an old yellow dog, and God's infinite mercy.

Let's start with the dimes. Oakley was my 14-year-old yellow Labrador. That is her in the picture above. When I composed these thoughts, she was in the last days of renal failure and was suffering from what is, for a large dog, extreme old age. We went for a walk, not a long one, at least in terms of distance, but it was just far enough. Along the way, I found a dime in the street along the curb, just a house down the way from our home. It was shiny and bright, so it caught my eye. I picked it up and stuck it in my pocket to throw in the old crystal ashtray I keep on my dresser for spare change. A few steps later I found a second dime, this one had even more shine but did not given evidence of having been run over by traffic. Even though it was way lying in, away from the curb, more out where it was easy to run over. I put the second dime in the pocket with the first one. Turning the corner at the end of the block, I found a third dime, this one in the middle of the street, but it was shiny new and had clearly not been there before the heavy rains that fell during the passing thunderstorm earlier that day. A fourth dime showed up a few steps further up the hill. I put it in my pocket with the others, and we continued slowly up the hill.

A few steps later, I realized in a flash that the dimes were not turning up by coincidence. I was meant to find them—they were there for me to see and, in being seen, to deliver a message. It was not the first time I had a mysterious encounter with dimes appearing seemingly out of nowhere.

Now that the old yellow dog and the dimes have been introduced, it is time to talk about cousins. My father and Pat Power Christianson were first cousins. They were very close growing up, even though her family ranched in Central Washington and our family ranched along the Big Hole River outside Twin Bridges. In the way the passage of years can loosen family ties, our families followed different paths in the years following my father's death when I was 11. We rarely saw Pat and her family. I don't recall having met her children before her daughter Carri, named after my grandmother, contacted my aunt, the widow of my father's brother, and asked to get together with us.

We met and quickly became very close, perhaps sensing in each other what our parents had shared together as cousins so many years ago. By the time we met, Pat had passed away after a long struggle with cancer. Before she died, she and Carri determined that if there was a way for Pat to communicate with Carri, she would leave dimes where Carri would find them. Carri told me she would occasionally find dimes in unexpected places at unexpected times, but the dimes would turn up when Carri needed to find one.

Shortly after we met for the first time, when she brought her triplets to meet the family, Carri and I were coming in through the side door of my house, and one of us spotted a dime stuck in the doormat. Over the next couple of days, we found several more. Laughing at the "coincidences," we agreed that her mother was happy that Carri and I were together and getting to know each other.

I have very little understanding of such phenomena. As a Catholic steeped in Catholic tradition and theology, there is no real explanation for how dimes would mysteriously show up as the dimes did for Carri and me, both when we were apart and when we were together. I believe in matters of faith some things happen for which there is no rational reason. That is, in fact, what faith is all about, belief in a God who can move through time and space to touch a human heart in astonishing ways, including the mysterious presence of dimes.

Since Carri and I met, I have had dimes show up occasionally, but all that really happened was picking up the dime, smiling at the pleasant memories of other times I found dimes, and stuffing the coins in my pocket. That is not what happened the night I walked around the block with the dog.

It is time to expand the story. Roy Halvorson and his wife Helen lived down the alley behind my grandparents, and the Halvorson and Trent families forged a friendship that kept our families bonded through the generations for more than 7 decades. Roy was a great hunter, as were my grandfather, father and uncles, and they often hunted together. Roy had a world-class Labrador retriever named Yippy, and from Yippy came several litters of award-winning puppies. Yippy and her progeny were one of the early lines of blue-blood Labrador Retriever royalty, and from Yippy came the first yellow Labrador to become a field trial grand champion.

In 1959, my father was in his early twenties and still finishing college because he had to drop out when I was born in 1955. He and my mother had virtually nothing while my dad scratched his way through college, and my mother worked as a secretary. Yippy's puppies sold for what would have been a small fortune in the 50s, but Roy found it in his heart to let my father "buy" a puppy from one of the same litters as Buck, the first yellow champion. She was a little thing named Gypsy, and she was the first yellow Labrador female in a long line of successive yellow females in my life from that day until this. For 56 years, my life has been wrapped up and bound together with one dog after the other. With Oakley, the fifth dog, the line came to an end.

Some years later, when Yippy had finally grown old and died, Roy's wife, Helen, comforted my broken heart by telling me in her particular and direct way the price we pay for unconditional love is to have to learn what it means to know loss. Whatever you think you have means minimal unless you mourn the loss of it when it is gone. Those words flooded back every time the chapter for one of my dogs ended. The words are still valid. You really appreciate the value of a good dog when you experience the grief that follows its passing.

Yellow Labradors mean more to me than just being pets. Over the years, 4 other Labradors came into my life and owned my heart. Each of them thought much more of me than I ever deserved. Each of them loved me more than I could ever love them. Each of them brought me comfort, happiness and consolation during inconsolable times. They challenged me to be consistent, giving, disciplined, and considerate. Each made me a better man, but none more so than this fifth and last one, Oakley. She taught me more than all of the rest and, as ancient as she was, is still teaching me even though she passed. I sensed at the time of this experience she would also be the last of the line. So far, that has proven to be true.

My life was changing in ways I could barely comprehend, and the changes happened in ways I would have never expected. Perhaps I had finally grown up, or at least grown. I realized that I no longer lived in my father's shadow, but I was still comfortable with being out in the whole light of life.

The sadness then came not from just the imminent loss of Oakley, which came to pass a few days later, but the passing of a way of life. It was my choice, a decision made in recognition of the changing stages of life I might be called to go where a dog could not accompany me. No one and nothing forced the decision to not get a new puppy on me, and if I changed my mind, nothing would prevent the change. Perhaps some new puppy will come my way, but it is unlikely.

We started with dimes, and now we return to dimes. Why was I finding them? The dimes were an unambiguous message of something, and I believe the message came from Pat. Since my father and I never had the chance to make a pact-like Carri and Pat, I believe he and Pat are together, and my father had Pat send me dimes to let me know everything will be all right. I could let go. He was waiting for this dog to join the other 4 dogs already with him.

So there. The story was told, well, almost told. There was also the matter of the fifth dime I saw lying across the deck from me beneath the BBQ grill as the story flowed from inside out. There is also the mercy of a loving God through whose grace family, friends and 5 good dogs have blessed my life.

Five dimes. Five dogs. I get it. I was a little closer to being able to say goodbye. I am still not quite there yet, but I am okay with that. Acceptance is the consolation of grief, and acceptance comes only through faith that this life is just a chapter and there is more to come. I don't know how sound this theology is, but why I die, I want to go wherever my Labradors went. Can you imagine eternity spent with such love?

Matthew 28:16-20

The disciples worshiped him but they doubted. How very curious. These were the 11 men who had been tapped on the shoulder and called out of the only life they knew to follow a charismatic man who was like no other man in history. They saw him walk on water, multiply loaves, change water in wine, heal the sick, drive out demons and, even more incredibly, raise the dead. They were with him in the upper room when he predicted his passion, they watched as he was arrested, scourged, crucified, died and was buried. They saw him resurrected and glorified, appear and disappear from their presence. They touched his wounds, ate with him, listened with him, talked with him and walked with him and yet they doubted.

What, by that point in time, could they still doubt? They doubted for the same reason we doubt. As much as they know and for as much as we know, we only know a little, just a bit of the mystery which is the trinity.

It is easy to talk about the one God with three faces, God the father, Jesus the savior and the Holy Spirit and to rationalize the concept of three in one but can we really grasp it. I mean really, really grasp it. We can’t so we worship we can grasp but doubt the rest.

I love a good mystery. I like to read good murder mysteries like those written by James Lee Burke who can draw you into his stories by animating characters who are flawed but capable of nobility and you can become so caught up in the flow of the story you forget to watch for the clues which will lead you to the final revelation of who dunnit at the end of the book. The theology of his books is intensely powerful but not in a traditional manner even though the main character, the antagonist and his family are devoutly Catholic. The stories are filled with Cain versus Able dynamics with vengeance, greed, jealousy all driving the behaviors of every richly drawn character. The end always results in redemption for those who confront evil in imperfect ways and justice for the wrongdoers.

The victims, despite being human and flawed with their humanity, are innocent. Even when the puzzle is solved and the story is ended, there is a mystery which continues, a mystery which conceals how they carry on beyond the end of the words.

British murder mysteries on BBC also fascinate me. The best of them provide a look at place and time where crime seems but familiar but out of place. The main characters always seem to be most unlikely of victims and criminals and often times when the final scene plays out, the murderer often seems as surprised to discover they committed the crime as the victims when they realized they were being murder.

The trinity is not a mystery like we encounter in books and on cinema. There is not a puzzle to solve or riddle to unlock. The trinity is mystery, a place where we see a little, understand a little but never more than that. We are not capable of more, not while we have to use human faculties to capture the supernatural as if it were lightning in a bottle. To believe are capable of more leads to the deceit of pride which clouds our vision or, as it is said, clouds our intellect and we understand less and not more.

So we worship but still doubt. God understands that it is why he has revealed more and more himself over time until revelation was completed in the second face of the trinity and then sent the third face, the Holy Spirit, who connects God to us and us to him. The Trinity is a mystery we can only submerse ourselves into like a deep, dark, bottom pool in which we can float effortlessly but accomplish nothing more. To be at peace in the mystery whether it is for a few minutes or even longer is the reward for worship.

Still we doubt but still we are forgiven.

Sadducees Set A Trap

Oh how smug those Sadducees were. Oh how clever they imagined themselves to be. Can’t you see them nodding their heads at each other with knowing smirks on their faces? “We have got him now,” they said to one another.

The Sadducees did not believe in the resurrection, as we learned in the gospel. For them there was nothing like a everlasting life for humans nor did they believe in the existence of angels. Life on earth was a reflection of heaven which ended with individual death. The only thing that survived was the tribe, the community of believers who passed knowledge, as they perceived it, from one generation to the next. On the contrary, the Pharisees had a clunky and ill-defined concept of the afterlife. Only those who listened closely to Jesus were blessed with a better understanding of what was come after death.

They, the Sadducees, did not think Jesus would be able to outwit their neatly constructed trap without contradicting the Law of Moses. They were wrong. He turned their argument right back against them. Explaining resurrection in simple terms, Jesus said we would be like angels. Earthly things like marriage would remain behind on earth where they properly belong to living and we are living are expected to live according to the law as instructed by the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob.

In the resurrection everything changes. There is no contradiction of the law because the law has been fulfilled. The law applies to human, not to angels.

Scripture does not describe how the Sadducees reacted to being caught in their own trap so we can use our imagination to color in the blank spots on the canvass. The smirks were wiped away and they no doubt were left sputtering and grumbling.

What lesson today can we draw this from the passage? What happens when we act like the Sadducees?  Inevitably we fall into the trap we ourselves set by not humbly asking for God guide us. The message for us two-fold. First, God is the God of the living. Revelation has been all about how we should live, constantly mindful we were created in his image and hopeful for justice and mercy as our days speed toward human death. Second, informed by our belief, we have an image of our life after death through the gift of the resurrection. God is the God of the living and, if we believe, we will never die but will live forever with him. There is no contradiction for us, only understanding.

God of Abraham, God of Isaac, God of Jacob, God of Moses, let our hope to be like angels after death encourage us to live today as you have taught us.

Samaritan Woman at the Well - Take 2

Another Look at the Samaritan Woman at the well

When we arrive at the door of this gospel and enter in we have the choice of identifying with Jesus and his disciples or with the Samaritan Woman. It is, for me today, an act of arrogance to presume I am with the one with the answers to the questions the Samaritan Woman asked of Jesus. This gospel is like every other. We need to ask the question of who we are on a daily basis. The answer yesterday may not be the answer for today or tomorrow. The challenge is to humbly ask the question and then to humbly search the answer.

Today the person I am in this gospel is the Samaritan woman. Let me tell you why.

In the life of every human there are days when we are up and days when we are down. Yesterday was not an up day. I was feeling the pressure of being the leader of large team and feeling disheartened because of the need to engage a member of the team in a very serious and very serious difficult discussion about performance. The person was a long time peer who ended up being a subordinate and the transition of our relationship has had some bumps and twists.

The issue of dealing with a team member was just one thing on a long list of things I felt were weighing down. It was as if I had found myself sailing into the open fist of gale and as the fingers of the storm closed in around me I felt deep discouragement close in around me.

I am usually able to mask down days by using the tools I have learned over the years. Finding reasons for gratitude, doing a random act of kindness, seeking the quiet world of mediation all usually help me get through the day without lashing out or withdrawing. Yesterday my evil twin was not having any part of it.

Finally late in the morning Lynn, one of my fellow managers, became concerned by the quiet in my office since my office tends to be a place of some noisy laughter, joking and conversation. I was able to share some of my feelings with her and, being a fellow Catholic familiar with my faith practices, she looked me in the eye and gave me some very sage advice.

“You need to go to Mass at noon. Just go. The Mass always changes you,” she said. I started to protest about my schedule being full but she just held up her index finger, pointed it at me and said, “Just go.” I willing to be you could all predict what happened next. I went to Mass.

I would like to say the gospel of the Mass was about the Samaritan woman but it wasn’t. The Gospel was from John 16 in which Jesus tells the disciples that the Holy Spirit would come to them to reveal more to them when they could bear to hear.

What was revealed to me was that today I was Samaritan woman who, absorbed in a dreary life of chaos and uncertainty, came to the well to draw water to drink but instead was overwhelmed by the Holy Spirit. Her life was changed and she went down a new path which would lead her to being the person she was always intended to be.

In the Mass and through the Eucharist, this Samaritan woman, me, encountered Christ and was reminded of the power of the waters of baptism which send us forward into the waters of life which flow from God.

The fist which had been closing in around me opened again and while the seas I sailed in were still stormy, I could once again see the destination and understood what God wanted from me. That made all the difference.

That was today. If tomorrow I am called upon to answer the question again how would I respond? All I can do is to pray for the strength to answer if tested. 

The Samaritan Woman at the Well

Earlier this spring, I was riding with a colleague named Wendy to a business meeting. Our route took us a past a group of motorcycle riders who had gathered along the curb in front storefront building facing Main street. The riders were a stereotypical bunch sporting leathers with all manner of patches, and scary looking helmets and leather hats. Most of the men were bearded and were either shaved-head bald or wearing long hair. The women in their company were also a predictably appearing bunch. All in all they were a pretty intimidating bunch.

As we drove by, I could feel my passenger literally tighten up in anxiety because some of the group were less than an arm’s length away. Her concern became even more palpable when the light turned red causing us to stop immediately beside the riders and their friends. There we were, stopped in the middle of the street, hemmed in by cars in front, behind and beside us with a motorcycle gang right there. I mean RIGHT there. If one of the bunch decided to bust out a window of the car and grab her, there would have been nothing we could do. Wendy, my passenger, was obviously very much aware of that fact.

After a few moment’s silence, during which she nervously tried to avoid looking toward the crowd she finally spoke, “Interesting looking folks.”

“They are a pretty scary bunch,” I agreed. “Funny thing though,” I continued, after a moment’s pause, “I would trust any one of them with every dollar I own and a new born child if had one.”

She turned to look me in eyes to see if I was serious. “I am not kidding,” I added in answer to her unasked question. “What you don’t know is every one of those people is a devout Christian and despite what they look like, they live out the gospel as well as anyone I know.”

I then explained we had stopped in front of their church building, a converted insurance office and the group, members of the Set Free ministry, had gathered for a memorial service for the one of the members of the church. Just then one of the guys recognized me, waving and calling out my name with a big smile. He and several of the others whom I proudly call “brother” or “sister” came over to the car. I rolled down the passenger side window so I could visit with them. Wendy remained rigid and smiled nervously while we chatted. In a minute or two, the light changed to green so we had to pull away while exchanging farewells and prayer promises. Wendy finally started breathe but remained a little ashen.

My friend and colleague did what many of us would do in the same circumstance if we did not know the whole story. Instead of seeing the face of God and recognizing all of the Christian symbols on their clothing, she only saw what she was conditioned to see and was afraid.

In the gospel of the Samaritan Woman at the Well, Jesus could very well have seen the Samaritan woman as a defiled foreigner, someone to ignore or avoid, or, perhaps, even be frightened of. Jesus did something very much unexpected by the woman by revealing himself to her. With his revelation and her acceptance of his teaching, her purpose in life metamorphosed from being a worn out survivor of a miserable existence to becoming his first missionary to her people. It was she who was to carry the message and she did just that. She was certain he was about to put her down through derision and insult but instead he lifted her up to an extraordinary future with a supernatural push.

My friends from the Set Free ministry are more like us than they are different. Someone unexpected carried the message to them. They believed it and their new beliefs changed them. We sit in different churches but we hear the same gospel from the same God and we have same challenge to spread the gospel to those who need to hear it.

After she was able to think about what she experienced, Wendy said she had heard about “people like that” but had never met a “Christian motorcycle gang” before and she seemed genuinely impressed by them but also expressed surprise that a supposedly squeaky clean Catholic guy like me was so well known to them. If she only knew…. I have much, much more in common with many of them than a shared faith.

As Christians, we each meet someone like the Samaritan woman at the well almost every day. The challenge is to see what we have in common and not turn away or be frightened because of the differences we perceive separate us. Jesus revealed himself as “I am” to the Samaritans, a people completely alien and foreign to himself and the lesson we should learn from him is to worship God with everyone, not just those who are like us.

In the eyes of God, there was no difference between Jews and Samaritans. Both were called to worship him through the saving mission of Jesus. This lesson is still our challenge –we are to be watchful for the Samaritan Woman we might encounter today so we will have an opportunity to honor God by living out his gospel of love and service to others. 

John 15 1-9

I am the vine, you are the branches.
Whoever remains in me and I in him will bear much fruit,
because without me you can do nothing.
This passage is one of the most famous, most often quoted and one of the most inspirational for those of us, which, of course, is all of us, who seek a purpose in life beyond the ordinary. Even though very few of us today have ever seen a grapevine in a vineyard, the powerful imagery evoked by Jesus in the Gospel is just as relevant today as it was in His time. Jesus is the vine. God is the vine grower. We are the branches. It is we who bear fruit as long as we remain connected to him. He tells us in the gospel without him we can do nothing. Knowing we have a place and purpose – I have a place and purpose - is very comforting but is not completely soothing for there remains an unanswered question. What fruit are we to bear? If Jesus is the true vine, the fruit we must bear must also be true.

The answers lies bearing fruit by becoming His disciples. To become more like Him. To do what He would have us do which is to serve others as he served us.

Every day, we seek to see the face of Jesus, to remain with him and to remain in him. Recently I spent a day on a river which runs through a land my family has called home for generations. With some brothers in Christ, I joined in worshiping God through appreciation of his creation and appreciation of the gift to enjoy his creation. We floated on waters which have flowed since before our time and which will flow until the end of time. We saw creation but I did not truly see the face God as he passed by my tent. I had yet to bear the fruit we are called to bear.

Returning home, we stopped in a restaurant to grab a pork chop sandwich. While waiting in line, two men came through the door. They were both short in stature and both seemed to be older, perhaps in their 70’s. The clothing they wore was simple and clean but not stylish. One man was black and the other either Asian or Native American. I could not be sure of which.

I was instantly on edge because I was unsure what to expect from them. They appeared as though they might need money or they might want to engage me in a conversation. When they nodded pleasantly and ignored us, I was relieved. I was not going to be asked get outside my comfort zone. They were just a couple of guys out to enjoy a pork chop sandwich just like my friend and I. Even so, I still kept an eye and ear focused on them. I secretly almost hoped they might struggle to pay the bill so I might have an opportunity to contribute to their dinner but money was not an issue. I was hoping for a chance to be a good guy without actually doing anything personal.

After being served, they sat at a table next to us, and I continued to listen in on them from time to time wondering what kind of oddness or weirdness I might hear. All I heard was conversation. They talked about the big fight that night and they talked about the weather. Their conversation was not so different from that of my friend and me.

When it came time to leave, I turned to them and said, “I see we scored a great meal tonight.” 
They both looked at me and, smiling back, responded, “We sure did. Have a great night.”
“You too,” I said and with that my friend and I left.

The Asian/Indian guy, by the way had an opaque left eye that flashed in the light in a seriously spooky way. The black guy was missing several teeth and had a crippled and withered hand. Neither guy was much like me or my friend but God put them in my path to remind me of what it means to see his face and be to be changed by the encounter.

The fruit we are to bear. We sometimes delude ourselves into thinking it has to be something big or important. We are called to comfort the ill, to feed the poor, to offer shelter and food to the hungry. Big stuff. Stuff that requires a sacrifice of time or treasure. But not always. 

Sometimes all we are called to do is just be kind. It can be just that simple.

Today the fruit we must bear to remain in Him might be difficult. It might be hard. It might require us to get outside ourselves and be uncomfortable. We might even be called to change arc of our lives so that we can follow the path he has set for us. More likely, however, it might be nothing more demanding than to smile at someone who is not like you and simply be kind.

Prayer
Give me the strength to remain in you and the courage to bear the fruit of your vine.