God Talk and Tea

Oh, to have gratitude like the fishes

The stories of the saints are chock full of inspiration, so when I had the chance to speak to more than 400 Catholic school teachers recently, I decided to share one of my favorite stories, attributed to an event in the life of St. Anthony, a powerful preacher and insightful teacher.

When preaching in a town near Padua, where there were heretics in great numbers, St. Anthony became frustrated that his words and teaching about Christ were falling on deaf ears. So, after a prayerful discussion with God, he made his way to the shore to preach to the fish.

“"Listen to the word of God, O ye fishes of the sea and of the river, seeing that the faithless heretics refuse to do so," St. Anthony proclaimed.

No sooner had he spoken these words than a great multitude of fishes, both large and small, swam to the bank where St. Anthony stood. All the fish held their heads out of the water and seemed to be keeping their attention on St Anthony's face.

St. Anthony began to preach to them, saying: "My brothers the fishes, you are bound, as much as is in your power, to return thanks to your Creator, who has given you so noble an element for your dwelling; for you have at your choice both sweet water and salt; you have many places of refuge from the tempest; you have likewise a pure and transparent element for your nourishment.

“God, your bountiful and kind Creator, when he made you, ordered you to increase and multiply, and gave you his blessing. In the universal deluge, all other creatures perished; you alone did God preserve from all harm.

“He has given you fins to enable you to go where you will. To you was it granted, according to the commandment of God, to keep the prophet Jonah, and after three days to throw him safe and sound on dry land. … Because of all these things you are bound to praise and bless the Lord, who has given you blessings so many and so much greater than to other creatures."

At these words the fish began to open their mouths, and bow their heads, expressing reverence and praise for God in their own way.

There is more to the story, of course, and it turns out well for the heretics, as you might expect. But what resonated with me the most, at least the first time I read the story, is the honor and praise of the fish, offered out of gratitude for the many blessings of God.

But the image that will stay with me from my recent presentation came from a creative group of teachers who pointed out that fish come to the surface of the water when they are being fed. It was an observation and a lesson powerful in its simplicity, which good teaching most often is. I know I will never look at fish in the same way again, especially those in a fish tank or fish bowl.

They will always be a symbol and a reminder of the need to come up to the surface from the deep recesses of our lives to be fed by the Word of God. They will bring to mind the many blessings that call us to gratitude, especially those we have failed to consider. And they will help me to remember that we are unique, among God’s creatures and among our sisters and brothers.

Just as a fish will not sing God’s praise with the voice of a sparrow, we must offer our love and gratitude to God in our own voice, with our unique gifts through the work of our own hands and hearts.

May the New Year be a time of imitating the fishes – being grateful, being ourselves and praising our God.

"Blessed be the eternal God; for the fishes of the sea honor him more than men without faith, and animals without reason listen to his word with greater attention than sinful heretics."  St. Anthony 

 

The humility of the Nativity is the heart of Christmas

I was first introduced to Harry Emerson Fosdick through a quote: “… real Christians do not carry their religion; their religion carries them. It is not weight, it is wings. It lifts them up, it sees them over hard places. It makes the universe seem friendly, life purposeful, hope real, sacrifice worthwhile. It sets them free from fear, futility, discouragement, and sin — the great enslaver of men's souls. You can know a real Christian when you see him, by his bouyancy.”

What a powerful description of our faith, I thought, and what an amazing image, as I remembered looking down over the rail at a mall full of Christmas shoppers to see a large number of them walking with a spring in their step, propelled upward and forward like Neil Armstrong walking on the moon.

I wanted to know more about this man, who I would discover was an American clergyman, a Baptist minister who often preached in the Presbyterian Church. He was a proponent of liberal Protestantism, and felt the Christian faith had room for people of many opinions regarding Christian doctrine.

While surely, Harry and I would have disagreed about many things, I was certain I would have enjoyed the conversations and the opportunity to gain his insights on what weighs a Christian down, taking the spring out of his step.

I think we would have been in agreement that one of the greatest impediments to being lifted up by faith is a lack of humility and our tendency toward self-absorption.

In fact, in his influential book in the emerging field of pastoral counseling, “On Being a Real Person,” Fosdick wrote, “At very best, a person wrapped up in himself makes a small package.”

How different is such a person – swaddled in pride and enamored only of his own opinion and enjoyment – from our Lord, a babe swaddled in the simple clothes of humble birth, whose life was a sacrificial offering of love for each one of us.

The power of Christmas is the humility of the Nativity; God, the creator of all things, born a vulnerable infant into a stable full of animals and the care of a young, inexperienced mother chosen by God.

It was this paradoxical love of our Creator that Paul tried to explain to the Corinthians: ‘God chose the foolish of the world to shame the wise, and God chose the weak of the world to shame the strong, and God chose the lowly and despised of the world, those who count for nothing, to reduce to nothing those who are something, so that no human being might boast before God” (1 Corinthians 1:27-29).

Paul’s words remain a gift to us today, and not only at Christmas, reminding us to wrap ourselves in humility, and remember whose children we are.

Photo by Dan Kiefer on Unsplash

Ma'am, there's no one here who can help you

So last week I was on the phone with the electric company. They had left a message that my service  would be shut off the next day unless I paid my bill in full.  I explained to the young woman that, being self-employed, my checks don’t always come in on a regular basis. Could she extend the shut off date for two weeks?  She gave me an unequivocal no. Well, could I pay a portion of the bill now and the rest in two weeks.  "Ma’am you would have to pay 75% of your bill -- $600, and I can’t guarantee shutoff would be postponed." Ok ... was there anyone else there with the authority to postpone shutoff for two weeks?

That’s when I heard, “Ma’am, there is no one here who can help you unless you make a payment of $600.”  With her tone, I almost expected her to add, “so stop whining #$*&@”

Really?  A company that received a rate increase recently giving them an additional $100 million in revenue and with whom I had been a customer for 35 years wasn’t willing to help me?  Somehow I didn’t think this particular phone representative was a reputable spokesperson for the company, so I made another phone call – to the Board of Public Utilities. And just let me say, the utility company will now be getting the partial payment in two weeks and the rest will be put into a special payment plan for 6 months. My thanks to the gentleman at the BPU and the lovely lady in customer relations at the utility company.

I have to wonder why this just couldn’t be done first time around instead of wasting everyone else’s time, and raising frustration levels? Surely there’s a lot of truth to one rotten apple…..

“No one here can help you” are not words I’m accustomed to hearing. Obviously I’ve been spoiled. My friends and family would bend over backwards to do whatever they can to help in any situation. For the past 16 years I have worked in some capacity for the Church, and in spite of the consistently negative press, I was always confident that if I needed help I would get it, and I was never disappointed.

 But struggling financially puts you in a place where people are not always so quick to be gracious or generous. You are often treated rudely, with disrespect, and with a real lack of concern. When you can’t pay your bills, suddenly your status changes.

Years ago, when I was writing for a Catholic newspaper, I interviewed a number of homeless men at the Catholic Charities shelter. It was a trailer, actually, with bunk beds arranged neatly throughout, and a small kitchen and office space. The men had been business men, teachers and laborers. One was an engineer.  Some had been dealing with family issues, which made a sudden decrease in salary a death knell.  For others, there were medical issues and mounting bills.

I remember walking out of that trailer and thinking to myself, “This could happen to me; to any of us, really.” Then I was thinking of the material losses. Today, I am thinking about the loss of respect and dignity. Thank God, Catholic Charities was able to provide some help during a tough time and, most especially, help those men maintain their dignity.  At least these few didn’t hear, “Sir, there’s no one here who can help you.”

Pride goeth when the bathroom door crashes in

With September on our heels, I have been receiving schedule emails from my choir directors. Though I look forward with great pleasure to the new season of song, my thoughts of actual performances always remind me that humbling moments are surely waiting just around the corner; forgetting my part, bursting into song when only the men should be singing, tripping on my dress while climbing the risers, and how can I forget the world premier of our conductor's composition, Requiem?

 

During the intermission, all the musicians and chorus members headed downstairs–many stairs—for a brief respite. The hall was soon full of black suits, long skirts and musical scores. After chatting for a few minutes I decided to make a last minute trip to the ladies room. Time must have flown by because when I stepped back into the hall I was alone. Images of a popular commercial ran through my mind. A man stands on the empty streets of a big metropolis with only scraps of paper blowing in the wind. He looks up and down the empty streets for some sign of life, yelling, “Where is everybody???”

 

The sinking feeling in my stomach accompanied the realization that “everybody” was lined up at the top of the stairs and ready to go back out into the sanctuary to sing. As I looked up three very steep flights of steps, seeing not so much as a flutter of a black dress around the corner, I heard the sound of applause.

 

I ran, kind of, up the stairs, trying not to trip over my dress, but I knew I was too late. A second burst of applause signaled the conductor had now returned to the stage as well. Once at the sanctuary door, huffing and puffing, I paused for a second to consider my options. My place with the altos was on the far side of the sanctuary, which meant I had to walk in front of the entire chorus which was now poised to sing. Or I could sit out the second half.

 

With a deep sigh, I swallowed my pride, risked feeling foolish and smiled as I walked quickly across the sanctuary. I was so embarrassed! But once back in my spot and breathing normally, I was glad I didn’t let my embarrassment stop me from doing what I loved.

 

Embarrassing moments are humbling moments which can serve us well if we are open to the lessons. My father spoke of them as times when our guardian angels feel the need to “take us down a peg”—for our own good, of course. Who better than our angels to recognize when our growing pride or arrogance threatens to impede our spiritual growth? Plus, humbling experiences hold the key to empathy.

 

One of the funniest stories my father ever shared with me was the bathroom door story. It seems the guys in his office had developed the habit of pounding on the men’s room door when occupied, just to pester whoever was in there at the time. They thought it was funny. One afternoon, to their horrified surprise, one of those poundings sent the bathroom door crashing in on the occupant—none other than their boss. This was a man whose pride often made him a difficult task-master. As one might expect, he was furious, and in such a compromising situation, very embarrassed.  Luckily the story has a happy ending. The boss eventually found himself laughing at the incident. When he laughed, everyone breathed a sigh of relief. This humbling moment reminded him that, “Pride goes before disaster, and a haughty spirit before a fall.”  He began a descent from his own opinion of himself and the entire office benefitted from the change.

 

Pride, whether it appears as an inordinate opinion of one’s own importance, or as refusal to allow oneself to be humbled, is an obstacle to growth. When we believe there is nothing to be learned from a particular person or experience, or when pride prevents us from asking for help when we need it, then we are embracing pride rather than conquering it.

 

When that happens we can be sure there is a bathroom door somewhere waiting to cave in on us!