God Talk and Tea

Hope is the reason for joy, even in difficult times

On the first Christmas, the angel of the Lord appeared to the shepherds, assuring them, “I bring you tidings of great joy;” news bringing them not an ephemeral experience of happiness, but a deep, abiding experience of peace and an assurance of God’s love.

“Joy is the air Christians breathe,” Pope Francis has said, and as a fruit of the Holy Spirit, “it cannot be purchased or forced.” This truth is often difficult to remember in light of a contemporary culture’s secular Christmas, beginning mid-year in an effort to raise spirits and encourage spending.

For Msgr. Sam A. Sirianni, rector of St. Robert Bellarmine Co-Cathedral, Freehold, Advent and the Christmas season are fruitful times to help parishioners come to a fuller understanding of the meaning of Christian joy, since joy is inherent in this holy time of the Church.

“Christian joy is rooted in hope, and our hope is in Christ and in a sense that life has meaning,” Msgr. Sirianni stressed.

Reflecting on the lessons to be found in the growing trend of cookie-cutter holiday movies, Msgr. Sirianni pointed out that these feel-good scripts always work out in the end, and viewers are always able to see the conclusion.

“The reality is that life doesn’t always work out the way we expect, and we might not see the conclusion of our works or our hopes,” Msgr. Sirianni said. “But if I don’t always see the results of my efforts, I can still be joyful,” he suggested. The key is trust in God.

Father Jerome Guld, parochial vicar of St. Joseph Parish, Toms River, offered, “Living in joy is a gift from God. … Our choice and responsibility is to recognize his gifts in all their forms. Those things that appear to rob us of joy and satisfaction may be the very gifts of God which are meant to humble us, bring us closer to him, and fill us with joy.”

Since it is human nature for people to get caught up in their woundedness, Msgr. Sirianni said, there are a number of anxieties and sufferings that serve as obstacles to joy, among them fear, self-doubt, deep-seated anger and the experience of change. These powerful emotions can erode trust and hope in God.  When people are stuck in those emotions, grappling with how they impact the person and those around them, it’s important to begin a process of reconciliation.

“When we seek to be forgiven, we are really trying to let go of something. This takes time, it takes prayer, it may even take counseling,” he said, pointing out, “It’s not so much a question of does God forgive us, because he does, but can we forgive ourselves.”

“Forgiveness in difficult situations always frees a person from some bondage, which constrains a person’s spirit,” said Father Guld, who recently facilitated two parish forgiveness workshops in which participants reflected on learning to trust, forgive and move forward, and to place all in God’s hands.

“Any sort of bondage to that which is not from God is going to get in the way of joy,” he said. “Many people have experienced both a spiritual and even physical lifting when a long-sought moment of forgiveness arrives.”

Msgr. Sirianni’s strong belief in the power of forgiveness can be seen as he speaks to parishioners weekly in a YouTube series, sitting at a desk over which the word C.O.F.F.E.E. is stenciled on the wall. Below it is the sub-title, Christ Offers Forgiveness for Everyone Everywhere.

This simple acronym and message of forgiveness is a reminder that God forgives and so should his Church, Msgr. Sirianni explained. “It reminds us of the business we are in, and it reminds me of the times I’ve been forgiven and of times when I need to be forgiven, so I can walk with people who also need to be forgiven.”

He also recalled that, over the years, he has often heard from parishioners who felt like Christmas just wasn’t the same for them anymore, usually because of some loss, like poor health, a death, aging, employment or simply children growing up and moving away, which brings people face to face with the reality that “the Christmas of our youth won’t be with us forever.”

Change affects everyone, Msgr. Sirianni acknowledged, but there’s something to be said for the grace of gratitude. “For myself, I need to focus on who’s around the table today,” he reflected. “While we may not always feel happy, we can always be joy-filled.  The foundation to our joy is the belief that ‘God loves me.’ When Jesus was born, God was telling humanity, ‘You are worth it.’”

Still, there is often a sense of the elusiveness of joy.

“God does not try to make joy difficult, or hold it high over our heads just out of reach,” Father Guld said. “The world, on the other hand, is always distracting us and pulling us one way or another, preventing us from grasping the true joy God offers. We are often convinced that forgiveness will be both difficult and unsatisfying. On the contrary, mercy is the very essence of Jesus’ mission and Gospel of reconciliation, and therefore is always not only worth the effort, but also adds to life’s joy.”

This story first appeared in the Dec. 13 issue of The Monitor, Diocese of Trenton.

Hidden saints: Learning from the legend of the lamed vavnicks

One of the things I love about my home is the small library created for me by my husband, a gifted
carpenter.  Whitewashed shelves and crown molding wrap around three walls, giving me a lovely
place to house my oversized collection of books.

Over the years, it seems I have developed a habit of writing notes, poems and prayers and then saving them in a favorite book. So recently, as often happens when I pull out a long untouched volume, a small piece of paper fell from between the pages.

Unfolding the paper, I saw a circle in which I had written two letters of the Hebrew alphabet – Lamed and Vav.  I have no recollection of why I wrote them, unless it was one of my rushed attempts to simply practice the alphabet when reading Hebrew was a requirement of my graduate degree.

Curious to remember what I had forgotten, I decided to Google the letters to find out what they meant and soon discovered the Jewish “Legend of the Lamed Vavniks.”

To understand the legend one has to first know a bit about Hebrew numerology, where each letter has a numerical value – lamed is 30 and vav is six. Together, the two letters equal 36 – the number, so the legend goes, of the righteous in every generation whose virtue keeps the world from destruction.

If the concept sounds familiar it’s because the legend is based, in part, on the story of Abraham who beseeched God to save Sodom and Gomorrah for the sake of a small group of righteous people. God replied to Abraham, “For the sake of ten I will not destroy it.”

So, what is the work of the lamed vavniks? They are fonts of loving-kindness, pouring compassion on the world and using the gifts and talents they were given by God to raise up those around them.

“Without their acts of lovingkindness,” writes Rabbi Rami Shapiro, “life on this planet would implode under the weight of human selfishness, anger, ignorance, and greed.”

In his book, “The Sacred Art of Lovingkindness,” Rabbi Shapiro explains, “Cultivating the sacred art of lovingkindness is enrolling yourself in the ranks of the lamed-vavniks.

“The tipping point for maintaining human life on this planet is thirty-six people practicing the sacred art of lovingkindness at any given moment. These need not be the same thirty-six people at each moment, however. I believe that people step into and out of the lamed-vavnik role, and that at any given moment thirty-six people are stepping in.”

The heart of this legend is meaningful for people of all faiths, and is reflective of the lives of so many saints who lived with a knowledge of God’s presence and a desire to be God’s love for a wounded world and wounded people.

Rabbi Shapiro calls us to a similar mission, and offers some sage advice. He writes, “Once you realize that the whole world depends on you for its very survival, you will not lack in opportunities to serve. Just remember that you are a hidden saint. While it is fine to invite others to join with you, make sure you don't advertise your own saintliness. While being a lamed-vavnik may be good for your soul, it doesn't belong on a resume."

 

Irresponsible saucing creates worlds of pain

On a recent fast food run, my son brought home a bag of tacos and more than a few packages of
spicy condiments.  As I tore open a package I noticed the words: Sauce responsibly.

I have to admit, I chuckled, having on more than one occasion been irresponsible with the jalapeno pepper sauce. Wow.

Soon, a flurry of other “responsibly” options were running through my head, like “walk responsibly,” as in look up from your cell phone before you step in front of my car in the supermarket parking lot. There have been way too many close calls on shopping trips.

Or “Facebook responsibly,” with more reasons than could ever be addressed in this brief column.

But related to this is an option that holds the most meaning for me: “Use words responsibly.”

I never bought into the “sticks and stones can break my bones but words can never hurt me,” adage.

It has been my experience that poorly, thoughtlessly or maliciously used words can be as damaging to the human spirit as a bruised body or broken bones.

Four hundred years ago, William Shakespeare wrote:  “Words without thoughts never to heaven go.”

Considered by many to be the greatest writer, and most certainly the greatest dramatist, in the English language, Shakespeare understood the power of words as well as he understood the intricate workings of the human spirit.

However, compared to Scripture, Shakespeare’s prediction for words without thoughts is very generous. In the Gospel of Matthew we are warned, “I tell you, on the day of judgment people will render an account for every careless word they speak.”

Scripture is clear that words, through us, have the ability to create or destroy, to heal, to injure or to bless.

As such, our ability to create with words and to influence others through our creation comes with a serious responsibility for meaning and truth, presented in a way that reflects our dignity as children of God.

One of the problems with today’s social media is the temptation for an immediate response, a problem warned of in Proverbs some 3,000 years ago: “Do you see someone hasty in speech? There is more hope for a fool!”

Throwing caution and good sense to the wind, and often feeling empowered by the digital distance afforded by the medium, we spout words, emotions and ideas better suited for the recycle bin than the eyes, hearts and minds of family, friends or strangers around the globe.

The Psalmist reminds us often that God created the world with words. God spoke and all that exists came into being.

As God’s children we have been gifted with a similar ability to create, but as human beings we need to prayerfully ask ourselves the question: What kind of worlds are we creating with our words?

Are we creating worlds in which relationships are strengthened, where bridges of understanding are being built, where healing has a chance, where people come to recognize their own ability for holiness?

If our honest answer is no, then we have another choice which has as much power as any word – silence.

 “Let your speech always be gracious, seasoned with salt, so that you know how you should respond to each one.” Colossians 4:6

Googles   images - original source unknown.  Information welcomed.

A spiritual journey through depression

Ten years ago, I was diagnosed with serious clinic depression. I was in crisis. For some reason I felt compelled, from the first day of my realization that something was wrong, to keep a journal of the journey that would take place during the next four years.  It seemed strange, since, though I am a writer, I have never really kept a journal, other than spiritual reflections and my rambling attempts at poetry. 

At some point in the process of recovery, the journal began to morph into a manuscript, but it wasn't until several weeks ago, more than 10 years later, that I was able to send some sample chapters to my publisher. I suppose my counselor could help me uncover the reasons for my reticence, but I haven't seen her professionally in years now. Actually, after four years of intensive therapy, I've learned to identify my motivation for things, that is when I'm willing to really look at myself honestly.  Sometimes, that's really hard. Sometimes, I wish I could just call her up on the phone to chat, and maybe throw in a few therapy issues off the cuff, but she'd see right through me. She's probably the most amazing person I've ever met.

Anyway, after some recent admissions of friends and acquaintances, that they are struggling with depression, I thought I would share a little of my journey, in bits and pieces, as I wait for a response from the publisher. Could be that there's a lot more work to do on the manuscript before it will be accepted, but in the meantime maybe someone else will find some solace in knowing they are not alone.

The manuscript is titled (at least for now) Deep Water. Any posts with those words in the title will be excerpts from the book. I will continue to pray, as one who understands, for all those suffering from a very challenging illness. Recovery is hard and humbling work, and worth every drop of blood, sweat and tears that goes into it.  There is joy when we get to the place of remembering that God has a purpose for every life.

Our woundedness makes us a gift to others

Each spring my backyard becomes home to a host of critters who are a continual source of delight to ,  me. For the past two years my favorite has been the hyperactive squirrel who seemed to rejoice, in his own squirrel way, in being alive.

He had a penchant for sliding across canvas awnings, swinging in the neighbor’s hanging planters, and jumping up on my patio table to join me for coffee when I was least expecting it. This season there is a different squirrel, one that doesn’t do much sliding or swinging. And when he does run, it’s with the characteristic of a crab, always stage right. Obviously, he is wounded.

I noticed him one morning, picking up a peanut from under my lawn chair. He seemed to be listing, like he was drunk. Occasionally he would lose his balance and hit the frame of the chair. I thought he was just having a bad day.

But later, as I watched him try to sit on his hind legs to eat another peanut, he fell over sideways, a tiny version of Arte Johnson on Laugh In when he used to fall over with that little tricycle. It was funny, but worrisome. I went outside to see if he was OK, and then I realized that, though he was lying on his side, he was still eating the peanut. When he was done, he got up, found another peanut and promptly fell over sideways again.

Some mornings I would open the door and find him just lying on his side very still. I would worry that he had finally succumb to his wounds. But always on closer inspection I would see him nibbling away on a peanut, almost as if he had mastered the art of reclining at table.

I looked at this little creature of God with admiration, considering how I have not always been able to adapt to my wounds and just get on with life, which in his case meant making sure he had enough nourishment every day.

As human beings we are often sidetracked by any number of wounds. Our lives may come to a grinding halt. Our work and relationships suffer, our growth stops, our compass for self-nurturing no longer points north.

Sometimes we deny the wound because we feel shame or anger. Sometimes we allow the wound to become who we are, identifying always with the pain rather than the possibilities. When this happens, fear of becoming someone new prevents us from simply becoming, and healing never happens.

When I was suffering with depression, I eventually felt called to share my journey publicly because I had discovered how many people suffer needlessly in silence, without support or professional help because they are ashamed to acknowledge their disease.

I was worried that my admission would jeopardize my job, and was letting fear make my decision for me. My spiritual director reminded me that no one had to experience more shame than Jesus, hanging naked on the cross, perceived by almost all who knew him as a failure. I should embrace this Jesus as my strength. So I did.

Henri Nouwen wrote: "Nobody escapes being wounded. We all are wounded people, whether physically, emotionally, mentally, or spiritually. The main question is not ‘How can we hide our wounds?’ so we don’t have to be embarrassed, but ‘How can we put our woundedness in the service of others?’ When our wounds cease to be a source of shame, and become a source of healing, we have become wounded healers."

Each day I am grateful for the lessons my Father provides, especially through the smallest of his creatures, who teach me not only what is, but what should be. In spending some time each morning with my wounded furry friend I am reminded that once our wounds have been healed, it is not enough for us to simply gather our own supply of peanuts each day. We are called to share the bounty; to love others as we love ourselves, wounds and all.

 Copyright © 2010 by Mary Regina Morrell