This is the week the long Vietnam War ended.
2,654 Michigan soldiers, including Lucas, my oldest brother died there. Luke was 23.
When it finally ended I was at St. Mary's College, in Orchard Lake, Michigan. No one seemed to notice that it was over. I was glad and needed to talk about that War.
The Vietnam Veterans of America, Detroit Chapter 9, will honor our fallen heroes with the Vietnamese American Association of Michigan Saturday, May 1 about noon on Woodward, north of Temple. They will honor both nations and the end of the War.
Many people know someone who served.
My brother died there February 18, 1968. I recall the dedication of the granite wall in Constitution Garden in Washington, D.C. PFC Lucas J. Ventline. I got to read his name out loud at the dedication in the National Cathedral. It was pouring rain outside as we headed to the Wall. The rain wouldn't stop me, however, from finding my brother's name etched in the stone. It seemed as if all the vets were buried there. My tears wed with the rain. It was a solemn moment as we prayed in the rain.
The price of war: Humans dying. Still. Yet. Today. Everywhere war is raging, it seems.
When will we ever learn? When will we?
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Meaning in Life Is Everything
If there is no meaning in life, there is nothing, I recall telling the participants in a class in acceptance that meets every Monday at 7 pm in St. Barnabas Church school building on Phlox off of 10 Mile Road in Roseville.
And, I said, there is no meaning without faith.
Victor Hugo's Man's Search for Meaning says it best: If one has a reason to live for he can bear almost anything. He should know. He was in a concentration camp and survived. Nelson Mandela planted a garden while imprisoned a decade. He found meaning and lived. He even chose to forgive those who unjustly incarcerated him. He didn't want to be imprisoned any longer after he was released. He let go of holding any resentment.
If I'm feeling down, I reach out and visit or call someone and find meaning beyond myself. Then, I watch the feelings buoy with hope.
Jospeh Campbell urged that one find his or her deepest passion in life and follow it. What excites me is worthy of following in assisting those in need especially. I enjoy writing, visiting jails and hospitals. I relish watching people mend. For me, those are meaningful events.
Meaning.
Meaning matters. It matters most I told the class Monday. Life gets "small" when I have little or no meaning to give me purpose. Extending myself is key to happiness. Serving others is a meaningful way to live.
Tuesday, May 18th at a 5:30 pm pot luck dinner and 7 pm class on end of life experiences, dying and death, we'll look at meaning again in Sacred Heart Church school building at 18430 Utica Road at Gratiot in Roseville. Call me at 586 777 9116 to reserve a space. Join me.
And, I said, there is no meaning without faith.
Victor Hugo's Man's Search for Meaning says it best: If one has a reason to live for he can bear almost anything. He should know. He was in a concentration camp and survived. Nelson Mandela planted a garden while imprisoned a decade. He found meaning and lived. He even chose to forgive those who unjustly incarcerated him. He didn't want to be imprisoned any longer after he was released. He let go of holding any resentment.
If I'm feeling down, I reach out and visit or call someone and find meaning beyond myself. Then, I watch the feelings buoy with hope.
Jospeh Campbell urged that one find his or her deepest passion in life and follow it. What excites me is worthy of following in assisting those in need especially. I enjoy writing, visiting jails and hospitals. I relish watching people mend. For me, those are meaningful events.
Meaning.
Meaning matters. It matters most I told the class Monday. Life gets "small" when I have little or no meaning to give me purpose. Extending myself is key to happiness. Serving others is a meaningful way to live.
Tuesday, May 18th at a 5:30 pm pot luck dinner and 7 pm class on end of life experiences, dying and death, we'll look at meaning again in Sacred Heart Church school building at 18430 Utica Road at Gratiot in Roseville. Call me at 586 777 9116 to reserve a space. Join me.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
FULLY FEELING THIS FRESH DAY
I enjoy rising early.
There's something about fresh air, the sun rising, and a rested body ready for another 24 hours. Perhaps I learned it from my parents. They were always on call. When I was young I thought they we like God who seems to never sleep. Nine the the household will keep parents on their toes. We did, I'm sure. Two sets of twins and four in diapers had to be a challenge.
Although the cool air quickly awakens me as it breezes on and through me, Woof and Wolf, my two Bichon Frises pups of eight-months of age wait for their trek through the neighborhood in Harrison Township.
Both prefer to run free without a leash confining them their enthusiasm. Yet, I never know when traffic may speed by and create a scene. So, at least one has a leash while the other puts part of that leash in his mouth as they walk along side by side. Vibrancy buoys each step.
A fresh cup of decaf coffee follows the walk. Sunstantial connecting with the Creator follows as I ready for Mass, a pot luck and a class in acceptance that starts at 4:30 pm today in Pontiac St. Joseph Church.
Everything smells fresh, including fresh water pouring over me in the shower.
I like fresh.
Some fresh toast, eggs and ham now to fill the hungry void.
It'll be a full day and fuel to carry me through will help.
There's something about fresh air, the sun rising, and a rested body ready for another 24 hours. Perhaps I learned it from my parents. They were always on call. When I was young I thought they we like God who seems to never sleep. Nine the the household will keep parents on their toes. We did, I'm sure. Two sets of twins and four in diapers had to be a challenge.
Although the cool air quickly awakens me as it breezes on and through me, Woof and Wolf, my two Bichon Frises pups of eight-months of age wait for their trek through the neighborhood in Harrison Township.
Both prefer to run free without a leash confining them their enthusiasm. Yet, I never know when traffic may speed by and create a scene. So, at least one has a leash while the other puts part of that leash in his mouth as they walk along side by side. Vibrancy buoys each step.
A fresh cup of decaf coffee follows the walk. Sunstantial connecting with the Creator follows as I ready for Mass, a pot luck and a class in acceptance that starts at 4:30 pm today in Pontiac St. Joseph Church.
Everything smells fresh, including fresh water pouring over me in the shower.
I like fresh.
Some fresh toast, eggs and ham now to fill the hungry void.
It'll be a full day and fuel to carry me through will help.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Father Popielarz Taught Acceptance
In the 60s when I was in high school, acceptance was the topic of a class a priest taught.
People flocked to it. Close to a hundred would jam the cracker-box gym every Tuesday evening to hear Father Edward Popielarz. He was known as Fr. Pops, affectionatley called in and out of class.
Pops defined acceptance as a covenant of freedom. A covenant is an agreement used in the bible. There is the covenant between God and Noah, Abraham, Moses and David, for example.
All sort of people attended the hour-and-one half sessions. A blend of the twelve step spirituality famous for keeping people off of alcohol, other drugs and process and substance addictions, Pops often said that fear is our ony problem. Fear shuts people down, he admitted. Fear freezes people and immobilizes them. People in possessive relationships also joined the class. Scrupulous and angry people came also. They seemed to work out problems.
After teaching for many years at the Orchard Lake Schools, Fr. Pops was pastor of St. Joseph Church in Pontiac, MI. For decades he taught the class in acceptance there before his death in 1986. In his church building in the small room where priests prepared for Mass, Fr. Pops had a medical clinic staffed by volunteer doctors. People in need came for medical attention also.
This amazing man will be remembered Saturday, April 24th at 4:30 pm Mass in St. Joseph Church at 400 South Street in Pontiac. Dinner and a class in acceptance will follow in the lower level of the church. It will be a festive time for all, and, a time for remembering.
People who knew and loved Pops will participate the in re-union. Acceptance will be the aroma and fragrance at the event. Students who joined Pops in class will show how they've accepted issues in their daily life, and how they resolved problems by accepting them, facing them and moving on. They will also tell how Pops helped countless lives in the Pontiac and Detroit area for decades. And, those who lead the class these days will also tell what Pops meant to them.
People flocked to it. Close to a hundred would jam the cracker-box gym every Tuesday evening to hear Father Edward Popielarz. He was known as Fr. Pops, affectionatley called in and out of class.
Pops defined acceptance as a covenant of freedom. A covenant is an agreement used in the bible. There is the covenant between God and Noah, Abraham, Moses and David, for example.
All sort of people attended the hour-and-one half sessions. A blend of the twelve step spirituality famous for keeping people off of alcohol, other drugs and process and substance addictions, Pops often said that fear is our ony problem. Fear shuts people down, he admitted. Fear freezes people and immobilizes them. People in possessive relationships also joined the class. Scrupulous and angry people came also. They seemed to work out problems.
After teaching for many years at the Orchard Lake Schools, Fr. Pops was pastor of St. Joseph Church in Pontiac, MI. For decades he taught the class in acceptance there before his death in 1986. In his church building in the small room where priests prepared for Mass, Fr. Pops had a medical clinic staffed by volunteer doctors. People in need came for medical attention also.
This amazing man will be remembered Saturday, April 24th at 4:30 pm Mass in St. Joseph Church at 400 South Street in Pontiac. Dinner and a class in acceptance will follow in the lower level of the church. It will be a festive time for all, and, a time for remembering.
People who knew and loved Pops will participate the in re-union. Acceptance will be the aroma and fragrance at the event. Students who joined Pops in class will show how they've accepted issues in their daily life, and how they resolved problems by accepting them, facing them and moving on. They will also tell how Pops helped countless lives in the Pontiac and Detroit area for decades. And, those who lead the class these days will also tell what Pops meant to them.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
JUST WONDERING WHY?
Started to wonder why parents are off the hook and out of the media spotlight when it comes to child sexual abuse.
Certainly, priests, bishops and the pope all need to be held accountable but what about the horrors of sex abuse by parents at home? These crimes and sins that cry to the heavens need to be named for what they are. And justice is required. What gives here?
Perhaps it is time for a summit on sexuality, or Vatican III for all the Church and society to address these horrific crimes against our youth.
When will parents finally come forth to heal this unhealed wound of sex abuse of minors? When? Justice delayed, is justice denied for the common good of children and society. When will parents be accountable for such ghastly deeds? When?
How will we together make a difference?
Certainly, priests, bishops and the pope all need to be held accountable but what about the horrors of sex abuse by parents at home? These crimes and sins that cry to the heavens need to be named for what they are. And justice is required. What gives here?
Perhaps it is time for a summit on sexuality, or Vatican III for all the Church and society to address these horrific crimes against our youth.
When will parents finally come forth to heal this unhealed wound of sex abuse of minors? When? Justice delayed, is justice denied for the common good of children and society. When will parents be accountable for such ghastly deeds? When?
How will we together make a difference?
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Good Morning Sunday!
Good day Sunday!
What a Wonderful World, tuned by Louis Armstrong awakens me most mornings. Today included. It is a wonderful world, isn't it? Despite the tosses, turns and tragedies life unfolds for each of us, the bright, fresh sun of each new day warms our being. Embrace today fully. Whistle a happy tune. Or, walk a proud step. Enjoy a hearty, healthy breakfast or lunch whenever your eyes open to life's stage this day.
Relish and savor your roots, family and faith of origin. Who do you enjoy rising with this Sunday morning? Who do you relate with mostly at home? For me, Woof and Wolf, my two Bichon Frises, eight-month-old pups leap high to greet me as I walk into my kitchen. Their vibrancy and youth thrill me no end with life's dawn awakening once more. My heart swells with thanks to God. Praise the Maker of heaven and earth.
Kevin Cavanaugh comes to mind this new day. Yesterday, the Roseville, Michigan resident told me of the death of his 26-year-old daughter in Tennesee. His heart breaks. It breaks open again and again each moment of mourning. I empathize as best I can, and offer my condolences. Fowl play is expected. God rest her!
Then, I think of my Aunt Theresa of Center Line, Michigan. She just had a birthday in her later part of eight decades of living on this earth. Her daughter, Nancy told me of her aches and depressed feelings that come with the pain she feels. Her sister Margaret was buried only weeks ago. There is a lot of hurt around each of us.
Life doesn't seem fair. Yet, we don't deal the cards. I learn to accept this fresh day with new hurts, but, joys also that will come my way with a visit to my brother, Bob in Port Austin later this morning after Mass, followed by a visit to my cousin Theresa and Leonard, and lunch together. A long-time friend who I grew up with on Detroit's east side will accompany me up North in Michigan's thumb area. Paul Domenick knows his joys and sorrows also. My dad's roots are deep in Port Austin. He was born there and an orphan at six months old when his birth mom died of tuberculosis. My mother hails from Cheboygan, Michigan, another farming town. Her large family of twelve altogether with her siblings came to Detroit for work during the Depression. My parents had two sets of twins with seven youngsters altogether. We were far from perfect. But, we had each other and learned to share the little we had. Both parents worked jobs to make ends meet. I'm better for them. We all are.
I relish those roots and relationships this holy Sunday of the Easter season and Spring's awakening to the tunes of birds singing wildly over Lake Saint Clair where I live in Harrison Township, Michigan, north of my native Detroit where I was raised.
Welcome this day, will you? Be all you can be. You have a right to be here. God made you the magnificent human being you are whether you believe that or not. Enjoy yourself and others. Life is short. Squeeze every drop of breath out of life's preciousness and today's breeze and cool air.
Good morning Sunday!
What a Wonderful World, tuned by Louis Armstrong awakens me most mornings. Today included. It is a wonderful world, isn't it? Despite the tosses, turns and tragedies life unfolds for each of us, the bright, fresh sun of each new day warms our being. Embrace today fully. Whistle a happy tune. Or, walk a proud step. Enjoy a hearty, healthy breakfast or lunch whenever your eyes open to life's stage this day.
Relish and savor your roots, family and faith of origin. Who do you enjoy rising with this Sunday morning? Who do you relate with mostly at home? For me, Woof and Wolf, my two Bichon Frises, eight-month-old pups leap high to greet me as I walk into my kitchen. Their vibrancy and youth thrill me no end with life's dawn awakening once more. My heart swells with thanks to God. Praise the Maker of heaven and earth.
Kevin Cavanaugh comes to mind this new day. Yesterday, the Roseville, Michigan resident told me of the death of his 26-year-old daughter in Tennesee. His heart breaks. It breaks open again and again each moment of mourning. I empathize as best I can, and offer my condolences. Fowl play is expected. God rest her!
Then, I think of my Aunt Theresa of Center Line, Michigan. She just had a birthday in her later part of eight decades of living on this earth. Her daughter, Nancy told me of her aches and depressed feelings that come with the pain she feels. Her sister Margaret was buried only weeks ago. There is a lot of hurt around each of us.
Life doesn't seem fair. Yet, we don't deal the cards. I learn to accept this fresh day with new hurts, but, joys also that will come my way with a visit to my brother, Bob in Port Austin later this morning after Mass, followed by a visit to my cousin Theresa and Leonard, and lunch together. A long-time friend who I grew up with on Detroit's east side will accompany me up North in Michigan's thumb area. Paul Domenick knows his joys and sorrows also. My dad's roots are deep in Port Austin. He was born there and an orphan at six months old when his birth mom died of tuberculosis. My mother hails from Cheboygan, Michigan, another farming town. Her large family of twelve altogether with her siblings came to Detroit for work during the Depression. My parents had two sets of twins with seven youngsters altogether. We were far from perfect. But, we had each other and learned to share the little we had. Both parents worked jobs to make ends meet. I'm better for them. We all are.
I relish those roots and relationships this holy Sunday of the Easter season and Spring's awakening to the tunes of birds singing wildly over Lake Saint Clair where I live in Harrison Township, Michigan, north of my native Detroit where I was raised.
Welcome this day, will you? Be all you can be. You have a right to be here. God made you the magnificent human being you are whether you believe that or not. Enjoy yourself and others. Life is short. Squeeze every drop of breath out of life's preciousness and today's breeze and cool air.
Good morning Sunday!
Friday, April 16, 2010
Why Be A Priest?
What made you become a priest?
That was the question a college student asked me the other day. I told him I was pulled toward the priesthood. I had little to do with the choice. Medicine was what I wanted to study. God pulled me gently in another wonderful path. I am glad I listened to God's yearnings.
I thought about being a priest often, however. Each day seemed so different for the priests I witnessed while at school or crossing other student on the intersections when I was a safety boy. Peer pressure prevented me from admitting to classmates the thought of study toward priesthood. In the late 60s, being a priest seemed something to shy away from, at least, publicly, and, avoiding announcing the idea to anyone.
Priests seemed creative and imaginative, however. I watched a boyhood pastor pray in the church yard. He was smiling and would wave to me.
Today, since I was ordained a priest in 1976 by the late John Cardinal Dearden, each day unfolds with adventure. After prayer and Mass, appointments with hurting people fill my day. On some days, a parishioner may need me in court for his or her drinking and driving intoxicated. The second Monday of each month Mass occupies time at the Macomb County Jail in Mt. Clemens, Michigan. Pulled in many directions since that original pull from God for this life's choice, the challenge of the priest rests in the variety of tasks that open each day. And, the interruptions are my ministry, even though they may be stressful at times.
The priest prays with the person who is concerned about her dying parent. He buries the dead. He visits the confined elderly person who seems to be losing hope in life. He's seen in hospitals or schools, or walking the streets knocking on doors as I did at Detroit's St. Christine Church while I was pastor there in Brightmoor, an economically-stressed area on the West Side.
Priests are prophets speaking up for peace and showing that violence and bigotry is not the way. He is a poet who is looked upon as a mystery who often lives alone as a diocesan priest (unlike religious order priests who live together),is celibate, and available beyond the call of duty. He is a bridge who calls people to give and forgive. Living in ambiguity is a norm, it seems. I know well that to love is to give at times I do not like, but must. And, will. Do daily. A boyhood pastor taught me that truth that steers me these days.
Being a priest and pastor is tough, especially when one stands on the truth of the Gospels and commandments of God. Priests are criticized for being naive and idealistic. He is exploited in his call to be part of a counter culture and never marry. For me, the life of the priest puts me on the cutting edge where life is really happening. For example, just the other day, I rode the bus on Jefferson as I chatted with people who engaged with me and my Roman collar. An elderly guy grew up on Detroit's east side not far from where my family of nine resided near the Detroit City Airport. A parent was riding the bus to work as she smiled often my way from her seat.
Pastors keep the heart of humanity sensitive to the sacredness of life from its start in the womb to its end. The frozen heart is what kills. Freshening my heart in prayer, at Mass, and in service keeps my fragile heart warm for all, especially the most vulnerable in society as our Catholic social teaching points out.
Priests dare to follow Jesus in a world that wonders why. It continues amid its own set of problems that any life will bring. God provides all these experiences with the People of God with the touch of tenderness and truth in the trek. That pulls me into the most surprising adventure of all six decades long of living in the Lord.
Most days I am enthusiastic about my life as a priest and my life's choice. Only God and math are perfect, people claim, after all.
That was the question a college student asked me the other day. I told him I was pulled toward the priesthood. I had little to do with the choice. Medicine was what I wanted to study. God pulled me gently in another wonderful path. I am glad I listened to God's yearnings.
I thought about being a priest often, however. Each day seemed so different for the priests I witnessed while at school or crossing other student on the intersections when I was a safety boy. Peer pressure prevented me from admitting to classmates the thought of study toward priesthood. In the late 60s, being a priest seemed something to shy away from, at least, publicly, and, avoiding announcing the idea to anyone.
Priests seemed creative and imaginative, however. I watched a boyhood pastor pray in the church yard. He was smiling and would wave to me.
Today, since I was ordained a priest in 1976 by the late John Cardinal Dearden, each day unfolds with adventure. After prayer and Mass, appointments with hurting people fill my day. On some days, a parishioner may need me in court for his or her drinking and driving intoxicated. The second Monday of each month Mass occupies time at the Macomb County Jail in Mt. Clemens, Michigan. Pulled in many directions since that original pull from God for this life's choice, the challenge of the priest rests in the variety of tasks that open each day. And, the interruptions are my ministry, even though they may be stressful at times.
The priest prays with the person who is concerned about her dying parent. He buries the dead. He visits the confined elderly person who seems to be losing hope in life. He's seen in hospitals or schools, or walking the streets knocking on doors as I did at Detroit's St. Christine Church while I was pastor there in Brightmoor, an economically-stressed area on the West Side.
Priests are prophets speaking up for peace and showing that violence and bigotry is not the way. He is a poet who is looked upon as a mystery who often lives alone as a diocesan priest (unlike religious order priests who live together),is celibate, and available beyond the call of duty. He is a bridge who calls people to give and forgive. Living in ambiguity is a norm, it seems. I know well that to love is to give at times I do not like, but must. And, will. Do daily. A boyhood pastor taught me that truth that steers me these days.
Being a priest and pastor is tough, especially when one stands on the truth of the Gospels and commandments of God. Priests are criticized for being naive and idealistic. He is exploited in his call to be part of a counter culture and never marry. For me, the life of the priest puts me on the cutting edge where life is really happening. For example, just the other day, I rode the bus on Jefferson as I chatted with people who engaged with me and my Roman collar. An elderly guy grew up on Detroit's east side not far from where my family of nine resided near the Detroit City Airport. A parent was riding the bus to work as she smiled often my way from her seat.
Pastors keep the heart of humanity sensitive to the sacredness of life from its start in the womb to its end. The frozen heart is what kills. Freshening my heart in prayer, at Mass, and in service keeps my fragile heart warm for all, especially the most vulnerable in society as our Catholic social teaching points out.
Priests dare to follow Jesus in a world that wonders why. It continues amid its own set of problems that any life will bring. God provides all these experiences with the People of God with the touch of tenderness and truth in the trek. That pulls me into the most surprising adventure of all six decades long of living in the Lord.
Most days I am enthusiastic about my life as a priest and my life's choice. Only God and math are perfect, people claim, after all.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
A DUMP, A GARDEN, AND ONE'S WORTH: FAMILY RATED
A family story meant to be read together with discussion
What's in a dump?
Well, if it looks like a pile or mound of God's good earth that grew over time with old tires, paper bags and newspapers, then that's how such a dump or space is treated. A dump attracts more of the same, does it not? A beer can here, a bottle there. Junk everywhere now.
That's what became an eyesore near my home. In this parcel of land with knee-high weeds, beer bottles, plastic and soda cans, there lived this dump for years. An eye ache for sure.
One day, a neighbor near the dump decided to rearrange things as the writer of Genesis in the Hebrew Scriptures notes of the Maker at the beginning of time, and order was put into the disorderly mess. God created our good earth.
Boulders that refused to budge became the focal point for a garden mound minus the dump and debris. Weeds were cut. Warped wood from the winds and winter was carried off into a dumpster to be taken perhaps to another "official" dump.
Evergreen spruce trees were planted and emerging red tulips and yellow pansies were transplanted amid the rock. Stones were scrubbed and shined with new life. Fresh and looking nice once more! Like restored dignity in each human being.
Neglect created the dump over time. Attention and affection would restore this good earth. Covering the mound with a tender touch is like affirming a person's low opinion of her or himself.
Like people, I thought. While one treats him or herself like a "dump" with little esteem and respect, that's how people treat him or her, it seems, sad to say. Far from God's dignity and worth given to all!
In the greatest story ever told about a man crucified on Mount Calvary, humans forgot how to respect life and failed to see the love of Jesus the Christ. Life was cheap, it seemed, for some. Afraid of love and challenge by Jesus, rulers mocked and made a mess of things, of God's son, Jesus the Christ. They were fearful of charity, love that lived in Jesus and "the Way," the early Christian community. Fear shuts them and us down and terrible things are done in the face of fear.
The bright sunshine of this Spring season is like that. It reminds people to respect all of earth, humans and creation of greens, and, abundant life all around and within us when life awakens once more and birds wildly sing at dawn.
- Dedicated to Haiti, Chile, El Savador, and Poland's National Grief -
(Lawrence M. Ventline is a Catholic pastor and board certified professional counselor on special assignment for the Archdiocese of Detroit. He directs Cura Animarum Counseling, and, is founder of www.interfaithwork.com. Reach him at his office at Sacred Heart Church, Roseville, MI., USA at 586 777 9116).
What's in a dump?
Well, if it looks like a pile or mound of God's good earth that grew over time with old tires, paper bags and newspapers, then that's how such a dump or space is treated. A dump attracts more of the same, does it not? A beer can here, a bottle there. Junk everywhere now.
That's what became an eyesore near my home. In this parcel of land with knee-high weeds, beer bottles, plastic and soda cans, there lived this dump for years. An eye ache for sure.
One day, a neighbor near the dump decided to rearrange things as the writer of Genesis in the Hebrew Scriptures notes of the Maker at the beginning of time, and order was put into the disorderly mess. God created our good earth.
Boulders that refused to budge became the focal point for a garden mound minus the dump and debris. Weeds were cut. Warped wood from the winds and winter was carried off into a dumpster to be taken perhaps to another "official" dump.
Evergreen spruce trees were planted and emerging red tulips and yellow pansies were transplanted amid the rock. Stones were scrubbed and shined with new life. Fresh and looking nice once more! Like restored dignity in each human being.
Neglect created the dump over time. Attention and affection would restore this good earth. Covering the mound with a tender touch is like affirming a person's low opinion of her or himself.
Like people, I thought. While one treats him or herself like a "dump" with little esteem and respect, that's how people treat him or her, it seems, sad to say. Far from God's dignity and worth given to all!
In the greatest story ever told about a man crucified on Mount Calvary, humans forgot how to respect life and failed to see the love of Jesus the Christ. Life was cheap, it seemed, for some. Afraid of love and challenge by Jesus, rulers mocked and made a mess of things, of God's son, Jesus the Christ. They were fearful of charity, love that lived in Jesus and "the Way," the early Christian community. Fear shuts them and us down and terrible things are done in the face of fear.
The bright sunshine of this Spring season is like that. It reminds people to respect all of earth, humans and creation of greens, and, abundant life all around and within us when life awakens once more and birds wildly sing at dawn.
- Dedicated to Haiti, Chile, El Savador, and Poland's National Grief -
(Lawrence M. Ventline is a Catholic pastor and board certified professional counselor on special assignment for the Archdiocese of Detroit. He directs Cura Animarum Counseling, and, is founder of www.interfaithwork.com. Reach him at his office at Sacred Heart Church, Roseville, MI., USA at 586 777 9116).
PRAYING ON TAX DUE DAY
Why pray?
Connecting with family, friends and acquaintances is important in relationships, isn't it? Well, tuning into the Maker daily is important also. Engaging with God in what is called prayer allows one to give praise to the Creator for a new day, to petition for healing for an ailing aunt, for example, or, to be still, shut up and simply be in the Presence.
For me, stress is a divine disconect. When I am praying less I find that bad stress enters, or distractions, or detours, or ways that are far from God - perhaps demonic paths never intended as St. Paul said he does the things he did not intend to do!
This tax due day reminds me of Jesus telling followers to render to Caesar the things that are Caesar's and to God things that are God's. So, we pay our due of tax, or get a cash return. Some may be praying that they missed the tax due deadline and need to apply for an extension. Pray always, nevertheless, and life is better, really!
The Angelus is a favorite prayer from my past rooting me to God in Mary. Remember saying it? I bet if you asked some friends if they recall it, they may call it up from school days, in religious education classes, called C.C.D. (Confraternity of Christian Doctrine) or Catholic school education.
It goes like this:
The Angel (good news bearer) of the Lord
declared unto Mary.
And she conceived of the Holy Spirit.
Hail, Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee.
Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.
Holy Mary, Mother of God,
pray for us sinners,
now and at the hour of our death.
Amen (So be it. It is true. (Verdad!)
Behold the handmaid of the Lord.
Be it done unto me according to thy word.
Hail Mary. (Repeat prayer noted above that begins with Hail, Mary. Repitition is the mother of all learning, remember?)
And the Word was made flesh.
And dwelt among us.
Hail Mary.
Pray for us, O holy Mother of God.
That we may be made worthy of the promises of Christ.
Let us pray:
Pour forth, we beseech thee, O Lord,
thy grace into our hearts; that we, to
whom the Incarnation of Christ, thy Son,
was made known by the message of an angel, may by his Passion
and Cross be brought to the glory of his Resurrection. Through the same
Christ, our Lord. Amen.
+ In the name of the Father,
and of the Son,
and of the Holy Spirt. Amen. (That's how I begin and end my praying session and my day, or when I get into my car to drive. I ask God to join me, and angels and saints. (Try it, you may like it!)
Trying praying the above prayer at a regular time at 12 Noon or at 6 pm, for example. Routine is good. It's like exercising or eating at the same time. The body gets used to a rhythym and so will you.
I bet you feel better already on this tax due day. Time for Mass now, then over to the jail to visit, and a parishioner needs me at court today since she was driving intoxicated. I'll have to pause often in prayer for her, others, Haiti, those who are dying, and the young and old who may be struggling, lost today on the Internet, or, trying to drive and text on the phone at the same time (don't do that!), or an elderly person feeling like no one cares about her or him all alone all day at home.
So much to do, but God will help me reach in and then reach out in service. What are a few loaves and fishes for so many? Yet, God does the miracle and makes things happen! God is in charge, not me! That thought helps me relax. I'll do what I can today by the favor and grace of God.
Woops! Woof and Wolf, my two eight-month olds Bichon Frises are jumping at me for attention and a walk outside. See you tomorrow!
Connecting with family, friends and acquaintances is important in relationships, isn't it? Well, tuning into the Maker daily is important also. Engaging with God in what is called prayer allows one to give praise to the Creator for a new day, to petition for healing for an ailing aunt, for example, or, to be still, shut up and simply be in the Presence.
For me, stress is a divine disconect. When I am praying less I find that bad stress enters, or distractions, or detours, or ways that are far from God - perhaps demonic paths never intended as St. Paul said he does the things he did not intend to do!
This tax due day reminds me of Jesus telling followers to render to Caesar the things that are Caesar's and to God things that are God's. So, we pay our due of tax, or get a cash return. Some may be praying that they missed the tax due deadline and need to apply for an extension. Pray always, nevertheless, and life is better, really!
The Angelus is a favorite prayer from my past rooting me to God in Mary. Remember saying it? I bet if you asked some friends if they recall it, they may call it up from school days, in religious education classes, called C.C.D. (Confraternity of Christian Doctrine) or Catholic school education.
It goes like this:
The Angel (good news bearer) of the Lord
declared unto Mary.
And she conceived of the Holy Spirit.
Hail, Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee.
Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.
Holy Mary, Mother of God,
pray for us sinners,
now and at the hour of our death.
Amen (So be it. It is true. (Verdad!)
Behold the handmaid of the Lord.
Be it done unto me according to thy word.
Hail Mary. (Repeat prayer noted above that begins with Hail, Mary. Repitition is the mother of all learning, remember?)
And the Word was made flesh.
And dwelt among us.
Hail Mary.
Pray for us, O holy Mother of God.
That we may be made worthy of the promises of Christ.
Let us pray:
Pour forth, we beseech thee, O Lord,
thy grace into our hearts; that we, to
whom the Incarnation of Christ, thy Son,
was made known by the message of an angel, may by his Passion
and Cross be brought to the glory of his Resurrection. Through the same
Christ, our Lord. Amen.
+ In the name of the Father,
and of the Son,
and of the Holy Spirt. Amen. (That's how I begin and end my praying session and my day, or when I get into my car to drive. I ask God to join me, and angels and saints. (Try it, you may like it!)
Trying praying the above prayer at a regular time at 12 Noon or at 6 pm, for example. Routine is good. It's like exercising or eating at the same time. The body gets used to a rhythym and so will you.
I bet you feel better already on this tax due day. Time for Mass now, then over to the jail to visit, and a parishioner needs me at court today since she was driving intoxicated. I'll have to pause often in prayer for her, others, Haiti, those who are dying, and the young and old who may be struggling, lost today on the Internet, or, trying to drive and text on the phone at the same time (don't do that!), or an elderly person feeling like no one cares about her or him all alone all day at home.
So much to do, but God will help me reach in and then reach out in service. What are a few loaves and fishes for so many? Yet, God does the miracle and makes things happen! God is in charge, not me! That thought helps me relax. I'll do what I can today by the favor and grace of God.
Woops! Woof and Wolf, my two eight-month olds Bichon Frises are jumping at me for attention and a walk outside. See you tomorrow!
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
A NEIGHBOR'S CALL TO ACTION, TEA PARTIES
Roots, relationships and reflections.
That seems to be what my neighbor's been about most of his seven decades of life.
My neighbor is a Presbyterian elder, a father of five children, an Ohio State grad, and a Navy officer.
One witnesses routines of neighbors. Sundays while walking snow-white Woof and Wolf, my 8-month-old Bichon Frise pups, I see these neighbors carrying their bibles to Knox Presbyertian Church in Harrison Township where they reside next door to my home.
After Mass downtown at SS. Peter and Paul Jesuit Church, and, a visit with my spiritual director, I was rolling the garbage bin into my garage when Deane warmly greeting me with my pastoral title: "Hi, Father Larry!"
A student of history with a marketing degree, Deane was enthusiastic about telling me about hishandbook just published by OutskirtsPress.com, and wanted me to savor its contents. Its star-studed cover read: Your 2010 economic-political-cultural platform that stops and reverses the fiscal and moral disaster we're sliding into now.
Entitled: Stop the Slide. Renew America. America's 74-year slide down the slippery slope has gone too far! The 2010 platform inside will turn D.C. upside down...renew our economy, politics and godly morals! This 181-page tome is complete with the U.S. Constitution, the ten commandments, and 15 points on how to renew America with a citizen call to action. It's complete with a "how to" section listing addresses of government representatives and more.
It's good to know my neighbor is watching out for America and me. A respector of deep roots of our founding fathers and this Christian nation, R.Deane Presar wants local Tea Parties to gather all around town. His clarion call to action invites neighbors and businesses to a national conversation whether it's about the good immigration will do, stopping spending and balancing the budget, restoring U.S. to citizen government, ending abortion, or killing the entitlements, to name a dew issues outlined in his chapters.
Roots, relations and reflections. My neighbor and I chatted about problems this platform addresses. Every town hall, synagogue, church and mosque could lead like my neighbor. R. Deane Presar handed me his handbook for a nation at risk. He cares deeply. We all should.
Let the Tea Parties begin igniting roots and neighborly relations for the common good again, and this Nation we love.
That seems to be what my neighbor's been about most of his seven decades of life.
My neighbor is a Presbyterian elder, a father of five children, an Ohio State grad, and a Navy officer.
One witnesses routines of neighbors. Sundays while walking snow-white Woof and Wolf, my 8-month-old Bichon Frise pups, I see these neighbors carrying their bibles to Knox Presbyertian Church in Harrison Township where they reside next door to my home.
After Mass downtown at SS. Peter and Paul Jesuit Church, and, a visit with my spiritual director, I was rolling the garbage bin into my garage when Deane warmly greeting me with my pastoral title: "Hi, Father Larry!"
A student of history with a marketing degree, Deane was enthusiastic about telling me about hishandbook just published by OutskirtsPress.com, and wanted me to savor its contents. Its star-studed cover read: Your 2010 economic-political-cultural platform that stops and reverses the fiscal and moral disaster we're sliding into now.
Entitled: Stop the Slide. Renew America. America's 74-year slide down the slippery slope has gone too far! The 2010 platform inside will turn D.C. upside down...renew our economy, politics and godly morals! This 181-page tome is complete with the U.S. Constitution, the ten commandments, and 15 points on how to renew America with a citizen call to action. It's complete with a "how to" section listing addresses of government representatives and more.
It's good to know my neighbor is watching out for America and me. A respector of deep roots of our founding fathers and this Christian nation, R.Deane Presar wants local Tea Parties to gather all around town. His clarion call to action invites neighbors and businesses to a national conversation whether it's about the good immigration will do, stopping spending and balancing the budget, restoring U.S. to citizen government, ending abortion, or killing the entitlements, to name a dew issues outlined in his chapters.
Roots, relations and reflections. My neighbor and I chatted about problems this platform addresses. Every town hall, synagogue, church and mosque could lead like my neighbor. R. Deane Presar handed me his handbook for a nation at risk. He cares deeply. We all should.
Let the Tea Parties begin igniting roots and neighborly relations for the common good again, and this Nation we love.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Holy glowing people
Holy Sounds, Well, so H O L Y. In previous blog I chatted about Catholic, with a small c meaning, universal, one of four marks or notes of the Catholic Church. Resource at www.aod.org, and the Catechism of the Catholic Church (CCC).
My aim in this blog is to grip the audience with roots and relationships with family, others, and God, for sure. Deep roots as a Christian who is Catholic help anchor my day's happenings, thank God.
Today, a brief browsing of another mark, holy. Maybe I missed it, I don't know. Perhaps holy is so elusive that as a youngster I only remember rules, regulation and the ten commandments. They serve me well today, but holy?
I sense holiness when I see it in the quiet disposition of Bishop Tom Gumbleton who I roomed with in San Salvador back when I was pastor at St. Joseph's in Oakland County's Lake Orion. After rising from his prayer corner, there was what seemed to me to be a long, stilling silence that made me witness and watch one who is holy. Peace, calm, tranquility, and a humility that kept him grounded on holy earth.
There was also George Schommer, now a Dominican priest in New York, who emerged from his room off of the kitchen at Saint Christine Church in Brightmoor where I was a pastor in 1981 attempting to complete a doctorate, and honor the request of Bishop Coleman McGehee, Jr., with Cardinal Edmund Szoka's ok to get the ecumenical Michigan Coalition for Human Rights started.
This rookie pastor had his hands full, yet I loved serving an impoverished neighborhood giving hope and healing I hope! Schommer was discerning his vocation being that "rich young man" in the Gospel that Jesus the Christ spoke about. He was accomplished as a musician, computer geek, and dating. After he soaked in substantial connecting with the Maker in what is called prayer, his smiling face at breakfast made me aware of holy and holiness.
To believe that the Church is holy, catholic and that she is one and apostolic (as the Nicene Creed adds) is inseparable from belief in God, the Father, Son and the Holy Spirit, or Holy Ghost as I grew up learning the three persons of the Holy Blessed Trinity of one, loving, omnipotent and merciful God. The Catholic Catechism notes that in the Apostles Creed profession of the "one Holy Church (Credo...Ecclesiam) so not to believe in the Church, not confusing God's work and to attribute clearly to God's goodness all the gifts he gives his people, the Church.
Of course, given that humans comprise the Church, there is sin and scandal - you've been watching the news I take it? Yet, holy in Funk and Wagnalls Dictionary notes: Regard with or characterized by reverence because of association with God; having a divine origin; sacred. Go to www.interfaithwork.com, a Care of the Soul site I manage for a litany list of holy things that hopefully make me holy. Or, doing holy things, such as, praying the rosary, Liturgy of the Hours, Mass, going to the store for a homebound senior, or visiting the Macomb Jail without ever becoming holy would be a shame, let alone contradiction.
So, all these words about holy may be illusive, yet, holy is real in flesh and bone beings like you and me, at least at times when I'm doing life God's way, not my own, thank you Mr. Frank Sinatra, who did it "my way."
Woops, my eight-month old Bichon Frises, Woof and Wolf need attention now...a call to holiness before the call to action invites some play time with them, followed by still time with the Creator who calms this pastor for the trenches out there. Catholic and holy are two marks of the Church. One and apostolic next time. A boyhood pastor, Father Popielarz added changing to the mix. My, my. . .
CATHOLIC MEANS UNIVERSAL
A BLOG BY LAWRENCE M. VENTLINE, FATHER VENTLINE
My mission is to grip readers with a sense of their roots and relationships - foundational for us to know who we are and how we are related to family, friends, yes, and, foes in our one world, one globe we all share.
Early on after I was baptized Catholic as an infant in my home parish of the late Saint Thomas the Apostle on Detroit's east side near Harper and Miller, the marks of the Catholic Church were brazened in my mind if not my heart by the dedicated and inspiring pastors and nuns who taught me twelve years except for kindergarten at Lynch School where my gym teacher, Mrs. Forner stood me in the corner facing the wall since I could not learn how to tie my shoes with two loops for the life of me. I was shamed. Not nice. Anyway, One, holy, catholic, and apostolic - those marks of the church define who Catholics are and the mission of each baptized member. Both my parents were farmers. Close to the earth, they knew who they were. No identity crisis for them. They imbued that sense in their seven children - two sets of twins included, and my oldest brother, who I look up toward, who was killed in Vietnam in '68.
Resources for information about who a Catholic is can be found at www.aod.org, the site for the local Archdiocese of Detroit, and the Catechism of the Catholic Church (CCC). Scripture and tradition are two prongs of Catholics.
Growing up, the Baltimore Catechism asked, why did God make me?
God made me to know him, love him and serve him in this world to join him in the next. Most Catholics know that by heart and re-soundly shout it back to me in unison during a homily at Mass.
Catholic is one of the four marks or notes of the Church, taken from the Nicene Creed. The Church is catholic or universal both because she possesses the fullness of Christ's presence and the means of salvation, and because she has been sent out by Christ on a mission to the whole of the human race (750, 830, CCC).
Now, don't get mad at me if you don't like the definition for Catholic. As I grew up I was taught with my six brothers and sisters the rules and regulations of the Church. Or else. We were clear about who we were at Catholics. Ambiguity was unheard of for us. We knew right from wrong. The ten commandments were more than suggestions to take or leave. Clarity in knowing who I was still rings within my heart. I'm better for strong roots and relationships. Aren't we all?
My mission is to grip readers with a sense of their roots and relationships - foundational for us to know who we are and how we are related to family, friends, yes, and, foes in our one world, one globe we all share.
Early on after I was baptized Catholic as an infant in my home parish of the late Saint Thomas the Apostle on Detroit's east side near Harper and Miller, the marks of the Catholic Church were brazened in my mind if not my heart by the dedicated and inspiring pastors and nuns who taught me twelve years except for kindergarten at Lynch School where my gym teacher, Mrs. Forner stood me in the corner facing the wall since I could not learn how to tie my shoes with two loops for the life of me. I was shamed. Not nice. Anyway, One, holy, catholic, and apostolic - those marks of the church define who Catholics are and the mission of each baptized member. Both my parents were farmers. Close to the earth, they knew who they were. No identity crisis for them. They imbued that sense in their seven children - two sets of twins included, and my oldest brother, who I look up toward, who was killed in Vietnam in '68.
Resources for information about who a Catholic is can be found at www.aod.org, the site for the local Archdiocese of Detroit, and the Catechism of the Catholic Church (CCC). Scripture and tradition are two prongs of Catholics.
Growing up, the Baltimore Catechism asked, why did God make me?
God made me to know him, love him and serve him in this world to join him in the next. Most Catholics know that by heart and re-soundly shout it back to me in unison during a homily at Mass.
Catholic is one of the four marks or notes of the Church, taken from the Nicene Creed. The Church is catholic or universal both because she possesses the fullness of Christ's presence and the means of salvation, and because she has been sent out by Christ on a mission to the whole of the human race (750, 830, CCC).
Now, don't get mad at me if you don't like the definition for Catholic. As I grew up I was taught with my six brothers and sisters the rules and regulations of the Church. Or else. We were clear about who we were at Catholics. Ambiguity was unheard of for us. We knew right from wrong. The ten commandments were more than suggestions to take or leave. Clarity in knowing who I was still rings within my heart. I'm better for strong roots and relationships. Aren't we all?
MARKS OF THE CHURCH
A Catholic pastor for 33 years, and native of Detroit, Father Lawrence Ventline is a board certified professional counselor, freelance writer and physical fitness enthusiast. A graduate of St. Mary's College, Orchard Lake, the longtime religon writer for The Detroit News has served as pastor and professor of parishes and universities in Michigan and Wisconsin, including St. Joseph Parish, Lake Orion, Baker College, Marygrove College, Madonna University, and Sacred Heart School of Theology in Milwaukee. His latest book is A Dump, A Garden, and One's Worth. He earned a doctorate in ministry from St. Mary's Seminary and University in Baltimore, MD. (www.interfaithwork.com)
BLOG: Mission and aim of my blog is to grip the reader with memory of roots and relationships with others, self and God. Marks of the Catholic Church are one, holy, Catholic and apostolic. Holy and Catholic were explored in earlier blogs. One and apostolic are treated today. The Church is one, the Cathechism of the Catholic Church notes. Another reference is the website of the local Archdiocese of Detroit, www.aod.org, or www.interfaithwork.com, my website for Care of the Soul counseling and pastoral care.
The Church acknowledges one Lord, confessess one faith, is born of one Baptism, forms only one Body, is given life by the one Spirit, for the sake of one hope (cf. EPh 4:3-5), at whose fulfillment all division will be overcome (CCC, #866).
Finally, the Church is apostolic and built on a lasting foundation: "the twelve apostles of the Lamb (Rev 21:14). The Church is indestructable (cf. Mt 16:28), and upheld infallibly in the truth: Christ governs her through Peter and the other apostles, who are present in their successors, the Pope and the college of bishop.
Changing was another mark of the Church my boyhood pastor incuded, though changing is not an official mark or note of the Church. In capsule, one, holy, Catholic, and apostolic define Catholics to this day. Across the globe one finds the universal Catholic community, its sacred sense amid its humanity, it rootedness and relationship with Jesus and the apostles, and, its oneness.
All the marks have to do with Catholic roots and relationships, especially with the most vulnerable persons in and outside the womb, at life's start and end. If respect lacks for life's start and end, how will one treat life midway? After all, what else are there in human and divine connections beyond roots and relationships that begin in the womb?
BLOG: Mission and aim of my blog is to grip the reader with memory of roots and relationships with others, self and God. Marks of the Catholic Church are one, holy, Catholic and apostolic. Holy and Catholic were explored in earlier blogs. One and apostolic are treated today. The Church is one, the Cathechism of the Catholic Church notes. Another reference is the website of the local Archdiocese of Detroit, www.aod.org, or www.interfaithwork.com, my website for Care of the Soul counseling and pastoral care.
The Church acknowledges one Lord, confessess one faith, is born of one Baptism, forms only one Body, is given life by the one Spirit, for the sake of one hope (cf. EPh 4:3-5), at whose fulfillment all division will be overcome (CCC, #866).
Finally, the Church is apostolic and built on a lasting foundation: "the twelve apostles of the Lamb (Rev 21:14). The Church is indestructable (cf. Mt 16:28), and upheld infallibly in the truth: Christ governs her through Peter and the other apostles, who are present in their successors, the Pope and the college of bishop.
Changing was another mark of the Church my boyhood pastor incuded, though changing is not an official mark or note of the Church. In capsule, one, holy, Catholic, and apostolic define Catholics to this day. Across the globe one finds the universal Catholic community, its sacred sense amid its humanity, it rootedness and relationship with Jesus and the apostles, and, its oneness.
All the marks have to do with Catholic roots and relationships, especially with the most vulnerable persons in and outside the womb, at life's start and end. If respect lacks for life's start and end, how will one treat life midway? After all, what else are there in human and divine connections beyond roots and relationships that begin in the womb?
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