People surprise each other at times with courage they show.
That ability to confront uncertainty, even intimidation, or pain, danger or fear itself that freezes one into inaction, or, worse.
That's courage.
And, profiles in courage, are like that.
Full of assertiveness.
Moral courage is the ability to act rightly in the face of opposition, discouragement, or more.
In, God's Growth Group, a dozen participants explore virtues, the strengths and capacity that equip believers to live well. Each Thursday, currently, at Saint Athanasius Church in Roseville, MI., Catholics meet at 9:30 am after Mass for an hour of study. The documents of Vatican II, and, the Catechism of the Catholic Church are readily available for their research.
The virtue of fortitude, a cardinal (means, pivotal) virtue along with prudence, temperance and justice, means courage in some traditions, and, among some philosophers, such as Aquinas, Kierkegaard and Aristotle.
In the Second Century, Cicero, a Roman philospher and statesman, describes virtue:
"Virtue may be defined as a habit of mind in harmony with reason and the order of nature."
Aquinas says fortitude or courage is endurance, far from aggression or attack.
And, among Catholics and Anglicans, courage is listed as one of the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit.
President John F. Kennedy challenged citizens to live lives of courage, in his Profiles in Courage.
Today is Women's International Day.
The day celebrates women of courage.
Friday, March 8, 2013
Virtues and Projects Such as Painting A Home Take Time
It has been over five years since I moved into a freshly-painted home.
Everything about the space I dwell in is a blessing, and more. Loving where one lives adds to wellness.
It is.
Really.
A pastoral setting where I reside allows walks near the spillway on Jeffersons and Ballard in Harrison Township, MI.
And, the cozy end unit of the condominium takes up about 1,200 square feet of space to move about in daily.
Woof, my three-year-old white Bichon Frise wants to live here for the duration.
He thinks he allows me to live with him. Go figure.
Good company, he's always ready for a walk in the park nearby, and, then some.
A recently-add walkway along Jefferson reminds me of the yellow brick road with its pavers and wide walking space along the road where cars move fast.
Deciding to paint the condo was a well thought out goal.
Chunk it, I said.
One room at a time.
That's the way to get it done without any overwhelming feelings setting in this heart and soul.
Baked bread colored paint is lighter than I thought, yet, it brightens an already illumined home.
Ever so slowly, one stroke of the brush, and, one roll of the paint roller at a time.
No spills allowed.
Sure.
Preparing the space for painting took the most time.
Everyone agrees.
Just like writing an outline for a paper.
Getting that completed enables a smooth and steady ride.
Like having virtues under one's belt, and, in one's heart and soul.
After the daily Mass Thursday, a dozen people explored with me these strengths of faith, hope and love, along with prudence, fortitude, temperance, and justice.
One's equipped with the capacity for the holy life with these virtues.
Just as with painting, they apply slowly, carefully, as one grows into them. Just like painting
involves time and a steady hand to do the trim work.
Everything about the space I dwell in is a blessing, and more. Loving where one lives adds to wellness.
It is.
Really.
A pastoral setting where I reside allows walks near the spillway on Jeffersons and Ballard in Harrison Township, MI.
And, the cozy end unit of the condominium takes up about 1,200 square feet of space to move about in daily.
Woof, my three-year-old white Bichon Frise wants to live here for the duration.
He thinks he allows me to live with him. Go figure.
Good company, he's always ready for a walk in the park nearby, and, then some.
A recently-add walkway along Jefferson reminds me of the yellow brick road with its pavers and wide walking space along the road where cars move fast.
Deciding to paint the condo was a well thought out goal.
Chunk it, I said.
One room at a time.
That's the way to get it done without any overwhelming feelings setting in this heart and soul.
Baked bread colored paint is lighter than I thought, yet, it brightens an already illumined home.
Ever so slowly, one stroke of the brush, and, one roll of the paint roller at a time.
No spills allowed.
Sure.
Preparing the space for painting took the most time.
Everyone agrees.
Just like writing an outline for a paper.
Getting that completed enables a smooth and steady ride.
Like having virtues under one's belt, and, in one's heart and soul.
After the daily Mass Thursday, a dozen people explored with me these strengths of faith, hope and love, along with prudence, fortitude, temperance, and justice.
One's equipped with the capacity for the holy life with these virtues.
Just as with painting, they apply slowly, carefully, as one grows into them. Just like painting
involves time and a steady hand to do the trim work.
Wednesday, March 6, 2013
A Covenant and Agreement to Be Free - A Lenten Day
Connecting with the Creator and the community is a covenant, an agreement, or, a promise to pray.
I love it!
Spending time in quiet reflection affords me a more expansive heart.
A huger heart, in fact! HUGE!
It's like hospitality. No, it is HOSPITALITY! Like a hospital in many ways where I let others, and God in particular, serve, assist and help me heal and recover, even mend and morph some.
That's what the 'reign of God' is all about, isn't it?
Letting God's kingdom of mercy, justice, peace, joy and charity pervade in a world that seems to want only might and power, war and conflict.
Like letting God find me when I pause to be still each day for a substantial chunk of time God has graced me with this fresh sunlit time.
Like the Hound of Heaven. God is everywhere: Within, around, outside and inside others also.
The famous blue Baltimore Catechism asked that question: Where is God?
I believe God is in all things, all of creation, and, that we creatures are right there with the Maker as One world, one globe, one connected circle, pancake, if you like.
When pausing to let God penetrate my being I appear so at peace, at tranquility, at one-ment with the Creator, and in turn, with others.
A bigger heart is what God seems to soak me and saturate me into with room for everyone.
Beyond a members only warning. More than a club.
After all, Church is more than an association or block club.
It is the living Body of Christ for believers.
And, hospitality is huge.
It is providing a space - even an expanded area - for God to be in order that I may be.
Be. And, be better beyond being bitter over some of life's happenings, desolate moments, and all the roller-coaster-like encounters that spirituality is all about.
A covenant.
Today's class in acceptance at Big Jack's Bar-B-Q Grille in Roseville, MI., will address hospitality as a covenant, an agreement between God and me to be a space for the Ground of All Being, namely, God.
I am so grateful!
I love it!
Spending time in quiet reflection affords me a more expansive heart.
A huger heart, in fact! HUGE!
It's like hospitality. No, it is HOSPITALITY! Like a hospital in many ways where I let others, and God in particular, serve, assist and help me heal and recover, even mend and morph some.
That's what the 'reign of God' is all about, isn't it?
Letting God's kingdom of mercy, justice, peace, joy and charity pervade in a world that seems to want only might and power, war and conflict.
Like letting God find me when I pause to be still each day for a substantial chunk of time God has graced me with this fresh sunlit time.
Like the Hound of Heaven. God is everywhere: Within, around, outside and inside others also.
The famous blue Baltimore Catechism asked that question: Where is God?
I believe God is in all things, all of creation, and, that we creatures are right there with the Maker as One world, one globe, one connected circle, pancake, if you like.
When pausing to let God penetrate my being I appear so at peace, at tranquility, at one-ment with the Creator, and in turn, with others.
A bigger heart is what God seems to soak me and saturate me into with room for everyone.
Beyond a members only warning. More than a club.
After all, Church is more than an association or block club.
It is the living Body of Christ for believers.
And, hospitality is huge.
It is providing a space - even an expanded area - for God to be in order that I may be.
Be. And, be better beyond being bitter over some of life's happenings, desolate moments, and all the roller-coaster-like encounters that spirituality is all about.
A covenant.
Today's class in acceptance at Big Jack's Bar-B-Q Grille in Roseville, MI., will address hospitality as a covenant, an agreement between God and me to be a space for the Ground of All Being, namely, God.
I am so grateful!
Monday, March 4, 2013
Joy-filled Bridge Building: Sunday Sermon for March 10, 2013
Joshua 5:9-12 Psalm 34 2 Corinthians 5:17-21 Luke 15: 1-3, 11-32
Halfway through the Detroit-Windsor Tunnel, a sense of relief emerges within me. I feel happier.
Glimmers of joy, you may say!
A little light cracks through the murky end of this enclosed and dark tube.
Almost there.
So with Lent.
Today's rejoicing recalls the midway point through this penitential season.
A Latin word, "Laetare," means "rejoice."
And, that, we will do this day as we "taste and see the goodness of the Lord," as the Psalm writer sings in Chapter 34.
Like that tunnel, or, the Ambassador Bridge to Canada, Paul the Apostle invites us to be bridgebuilders and reconcilers, like that unfolding in the fifteenth chapter of Luke's Gospel, often referred to as the pardoned Prodigal Son.
The Israelites complete their trek through the wilderness finally touching the land promised centuries ago to Abraham's descendents. Their own rejoicing at Passover remembers the enduring and steadfast love of God amid their own unfaithfulness.
A lot of bridges are built here today, it seems from Sacred Scripture up into our own stories.
Bridges are like that.
Almost a mad kind of joy dashes out to meet the wayward son by his father.
What prodigal and generous love lavished upon this wayward son, like me.
Dad showers his nameless son with a huge hug, a ring - a mark of a lasting and forgiving relationship like that of our own covenant faithfulness with God.
Father and son link up. Life is restored. Atonement evolves.
Life gets better in healing recovery.
Reconciling hearts bow humbly with open doors. Son and father. Imagine the scene.
Or, think of stretches that tie arm and arm together once more.
Like the Mackinaw Bridge linking the lower and upper penisulas.
Bridge building.
The idea intrigues me.
Is it the clarion call heralded for clergy, for parents, even grandparents in the absence of dads, moms? Perhaps for prophets in our day?
Want to build one?
Want to connect the parts, pieces and people to do so?
Building bridges is no easy task.
A plan first. Without it, people perish, so do bridges, links to loves lost and lives limping and longing for forgiveness in families.
Look at the London Bridge.
There's the Golden Gate Bridge.
The Brooklyn Bridge.
There's the controversy over building another bridge next to the Ambassador Bridge.
Well...
Would you say there's some bridge building needed among principal players to build that one.
A lot of work to build a bridge.
Requires tireless trying, repeatedly forgiving (not forgetting, remembering one's history so as not to enable fractures, perhaps!) and endlessly engaging as the influential Jesus is to have said seventy times seven in the Good News.
A will to build a bridge and a relationship is required also, no?
There's the infamous Hoan Bridge in Milwuakee that got started but was left incompleted.
Hoan Bridge was to connect to the south side of the city of Milwaukee.
But, something went wrong as things will, and stuff happens, and hard feelings frustrate builders.
Your own and mine, included.
Like feeling some foster about the Eight Mile Road divide between 'burbs and the outer rings stretching beyond 37 Mile Road and Romeo, MI., for example.
Further away the safer some feel.
Expansive minds and hearts are part of the recipe and plan, or . . .
Too small a negotiating heart prevails, or, "We don''t negotiate, thank you very much!"
And, things fall down. On or both, or, all walk away.
Indifference and the frozen heart kills additonal attempts to reconcile and heal hurting hearts.
Broken bridges.
Bridges falling down like in a lack of forgiveness of another for some wrongdoing toward you.
Remember? Long, long ago. . .
The Kerner Report. named after the former Illinois Governor Otto Kerner, predicted in 1968:
"Two societies, one black, one white, separate and unequal."
Decided. No more conversations.
Some stay out of cities, they say.
Christians?
Even in homes, among households and families that are fractured, even so fragile at building relations with siblings, sons, daughter, dads and moms, neighbors too!
Esteem is beat down with violent words, bullying, raised voices filling one or the other with fear.
Sadness. So much.
Even here today. Look around. One poet sang that Sunday morning is the most segregated day of the week at churches.
Dangerous is that there building bridges, no?
And, bullying doesn't help, does it? Online, in chat rooms, and, in one's heart where all conflict and sin starts, no?
What we need are arms linked in arms.
Bridges to mend relations between husband and wife, rich and poor, and, the 46 million living in poverty that Catholic Charities USA says in unacceptable.
It is.
Wanted: Brdige builders! Plenty of work.
Like Lent.
Almost there.
Finish building Lent, will you?
Almost there into the Triduum, the three highest holy days of holy week beginning with Passion and Palm Sunday. Feelings flood me. Strong feelings stir within me as to what people did to Jesus.
They praised him with palm branches one Sunday, so the story says, and a few days later, he is hung on a tree of a cross between two thieves. One of them, Dismas, wants Heaven, asks Jesus for it, gets it like Dr. Eban Alexander's Proof of Heaven book. It depicts one unbelieving scientist and surgeon who is guided on a heavenly tour by a beautiful women while he is in a coma seven days.
Jesus was always building bridges with Gentiles, a woman with multiple relationships at the well. Yet, she stood his ground. Or, I should say, the Ground. The truth of God's commandments to love.
Now, there's a bridge Jesus began building, in the Good Books, Joshua, with Saul who morphs into Paul, the preaching of the prophet Isaiah, and Luke these Lenten Sundays, on the "reign of God" and, God's kingdom so unlike our own today, that, well... look at what is still happening to the bridge builders, and, to Jesus, our Lord, life and light, our way, and truth today?
Or, is he, for you, for me, and many?
Restoring that relationship with dad, mom, and more. Will you? Digging deep may be required for your own, and my bridge building.
Glimmers of joy peak out in restoring, reconstructing relationships this day, this Laetare, "rejoicing" Sunday of Lent, the midway point of our new Springtime.
Commit. Hang in there. You can do this trek this Lent. You can.
Let the building begin!
Halfway through the Detroit-Windsor Tunnel, a sense of relief emerges within me. I feel happier.
Glimmers of joy, you may say!
A little light cracks through the murky end of this enclosed and dark tube.
Almost there.
So with Lent.
Today's rejoicing recalls the midway point through this penitential season.
A Latin word, "Laetare," means "rejoice."
And, that, we will do this day as we "taste and see the goodness of the Lord," as the Psalm writer sings in Chapter 34.
Like that tunnel, or, the Ambassador Bridge to Canada, Paul the Apostle invites us to be bridgebuilders and reconcilers, like that unfolding in the fifteenth chapter of Luke's Gospel, often referred to as the pardoned Prodigal Son.
The Israelites complete their trek through the wilderness finally touching the land promised centuries ago to Abraham's descendents. Their own rejoicing at Passover remembers the enduring and steadfast love of God amid their own unfaithfulness.
A lot of bridges are built here today, it seems from Sacred Scripture up into our own stories.
Bridges are like that.
Almost a mad kind of joy dashes out to meet the wayward son by his father.
What prodigal and generous love lavished upon this wayward son, like me.
Dad showers his nameless son with a huge hug, a ring - a mark of a lasting and forgiving relationship like that of our own covenant faithfulness with God.
Father and son link up. Life is restored. Atonement evolves.
Life gets better in healing recovery.
Reconciling hearts bow humbly with open doors. Son and father. Imagine the scene.
Or, think of stretches that tie arm and arm together once more.
Like the Mackinaw Bridge linking the lower and upper penisulas.
Bridge building.
The idea intrigues me.
Is it the clarion call heralded for clergy, for parents, even grandparents in the absence of dads, moms? Perhaps for prophets in our day?
Want to build one?
Want to connect the parts, pieces and people to do so?
Building bridges is no easy task.
A plan first. Without it, people perish, so do bridges, links to loves lost and lives limping and longing for forgiveness in families.
Look at the London Bridge.
There's the Golden Gate Bridge.
The Brooklyn Bridge.
There's the controversy over building another bridge next to the Ambassador Bridge.
Well...
Would you say there's some bridge building needed among principal players to build that one.
A lot of work to build a bridge.
Requires tireless trying, repeatedly forgiving (not forgetting, remembering one's history so as not to enable fractures, perhaps!) and endlessly engaging as the influential Jesus is to have said seventy times seven in the Good News.
A will to build a bridge and a relationship is required also, no?
There's the infamous Hoan Bridge in Milwuakee that got started but was left incompleted.
Hoan Bridge was to connect to the south side of the city of Milwaukee.
But, something went wrong as things will, and stuff happens, and hard feelings frustrate builders.
Your own and mine, included.
Like feeling some foster about the Eight Mile Road divide between 'burbs and the outer rings stretching beyond 37 Mile Road and Romeo, MI., for example.
Further away the safer some feel.
Expansive minds and hearts are part of the recipe and plan, or . . .
Too small a negotiating heart prevails, or, "We don''t negotiate, thank you very much!"
And, things fall down. On or both, or, all walk away.
Indifference and the frozen heart kills additonal attempts to reconcile and heal hurting hearts.
Broken bridges.
Bridges falling down like in a lack of forgiveness of another for some wrongdoing toward you.
Remember? Long, long ago. . .
The Kerner Report. named after the former Illinois Governor Otto Kerner, predicted in 1968:
"Two societies, one black, one white, separate and unequal."
Decided. No more conversations.
Some stay out of cities, they say.
Christians?
Even in homes, among households and families that are fractured, even so fragile at building relations with siblings, sons, daughter, dads and moms, neighbors too!
Esteem is beat down with violent words, bullying, raised voices filling one or the other with fear.
Sadness. So much.
Even here today. Look around. One poet sang that Sunday morning is the most segregated day of the week at churches.
Dangerous is that there building bridges, no?
And, bullying doesn't help, does it? Online, in chat rooms, and, in one's heart where all conflict and sin starts, no?
What we need are arms linked in arms.
Bridges to mend relations between husband and wife, rich and poor, and, the 46 million living in poverty that Catholic Charities USA says in unacceptable.
It is.
Wanted: Brdige builders! Plenty of work.
Like Lent.
Almost there.
Finish building Lent, will you?
Almost there into the Triduum, the three highest holy days of holy week beginning with Passion and Palm Sunday. Feelings flood me. Strong feelings stir within me as to what people did to Jesus.
They praised him with palm branches one Sunday, so the story says, and a few days later, he is hung on a tree of a cross between two thieves. One of them, Dismas, wants Heaven, asks Jesus for it, gets it like Dr. Eban Alexander's Proof of Heaven book. It depicts one unbelieving scientist and surgeon who is guided on a heavenly tour by a beautiful women while he is in a coma seven days.
Jesus was always building bridges with Gentiles, a woman with multiple relationships at the well. Yet, she stood his ground. Or, I should say, the Ground. The truth of God's commandments to love.
Now, there's a bridge Jesus began building, in the Good Books, Joshua, with Saul who morphs into Paul, the preaching of the prophet Isaiah, and Luke these Lenten Sundays, on the "reign of God" and, God's kingdom so unlike our own today, that, well... look at what is still happening to the bridge builders, and, to Jesus, our Lord, life and light, our way, and truth today?
Or, is he, for you, for me, and many?
Restoring that relationship with dad, mom, and more. Will you? Digging deep may be required for your own, and my bridge building.
Glimmers of joy peak out in restoring, reconstructing relationships this day, this Laetare, "rejoicing" Sunday of Lent, the midway point of our new Springtime.
Commit. Hang in there. You can do this trek this Lent. You can.
Let the building begin!
Sunday, March 3, 2013
Water
Thirst.
I know when I am thirsty.
There's yearning for water.
Earlier today, I asked for water at St. Mary's Queen of Creation Church (formerly St. Clement) in Center Line, Michigan.
Immediately, the minister of music fetched me a bottle of cold water.
How grateful for the prop for my preaching today based on the Gospel from Luke.
Do you want a drink?
That's how I began my homily.
Laugher followed.
A drink of water, I mean, I shouted back to the fiesty congregation.
Where are the ushers when you need them, I joked.
One parishioner spoke up: I know all of them!
You'll know them better, I wanted to respond; but, I didn't.
Silence speaks volumes often.
Thirsting for God means happiness.
Steady and enduring happiness, it seems to me.
It also means communion with God.
Oneness. At One Ment. Atonement.
After all, God is good all the time; all the time, God is good.
God isn't in our good/bad dichotomy. That split we we make in life: win/lose, in/out.
And, if God is everywhere; God is good always.
Even though I may think God is bad if I don't have the winning lottery ticket, or, when I get sick.
I thirst for the mercy and kindness of the Maker.
I do.
There is joy in communion with the Creator.
Being one with God matches no other experience.
One.
Thirsting to be one always.
Joy is savored in this thirst to be One.
Then, I follow his way, truth and life.
And, happiness flows like a river.
That I relish.
I know when I am thirsty.
There's yearning for water.
Earlier today, I asked for water at St. Mary's Queen of Creation Church (formerly St. Clement) in Center Line, Michigan.
Immediately, the minister of music fetched me a bottle of cold water.
How grateful for the prop for my preaching today based on the Gospel from Luke.
Do you want a drink?
That's how I began my homily.
Laugher followed.
A drink of water, I mean, I shouted back to the fiesty congregation.
Where are the ushers when you need them, I joked.
One parishioner spoke up: I know all of them!
You'll know them better, I wanted to respond; but, I didn't.
Silence speaks volumes often.
Thirsting for God means happiness.
Steady and enduring happiness, it seems to me.
It also means communion with God.
Oneness. At One Ment. Atonement.
After all, God is good all the time; all the time, God is good.
God isn't in our good/bad dichotomy. That split we we make in life: win/lose, in/out.
And, if God is everywhere; God is good always.
Even though I may think God is bad if I don't have the winning lottery ticket, or, when I get sick.
I thirst for the mercy and kindness of the Maker.
I do.
There is joy in communion with the Creator.
Being one with God matches no other experience.
One.
Thirsting to be one always.
Joy is savored in this thirst to be One.
Then, I follow his way, truth and life.
And, happiness flows like a river.
That I relish.
Saturday, March 2, 2013
Fix System, Mend, Morph Beyond Monarch, Museum
To fix Detroit, it will take a lot of fixing.
It will.
Beyond the broken-down lights, streets, fire, and security systems, morale needs morphing.
But, so does City government need tweaking.
It does.
And, to do all this before my Motown's collapse and moral failure, who will lead?
How will it get mended?
It seems citizens pay for a lot of talk and meetings as in other circles, or pyramids, called processes.
Governing worked in the past with well-placed systems of balances, enforcement, and consequences for behaviors that were (are) a detriment to keeping "city hall" moving.
Does it work today?
Defining who Detroit is, and, Church, also, for that matter, would help immensely.
Reminding people of who one is helps roll out the action involved. Too many distractions pull people away from the lone mission. Helping people know, love and serve God, and breaking open the reign of God saw an early Way, of community, work well. Like the "reign of God" Jesus proclaimed. That Bishop Thomas Gumbleton preached to a packed hall in Clinton Township, MI., last Monday. Some, in fact, told him they "acclaimed" him to be the next pope. At 84?
Can one hope with that evergreen virtue, or, strength, for Lent's "springtime" for this once vibrant and bustling City of Detroit that ranked right up there with Chicago, even New York?
Can citizens, and, the faithful also look for a Vatican Spring also that has stirred and turned a cycle of autocratic systems, even regimes, that today seem to solely put out "fires" or, segments and populations who seem to fuel foment or reasonable challenge to ossified postures, proxy and positions?
One wouldn't think so with all the jaw flapping from the lowest to the highest levels.
And, look at how former civic leaders, let alone ecclesiastical prelates who have led, steered supposedly, and have been declared ineffective, even corrupt in some cases.
Kicking the "can" of issues to the emergency manager in Detroit, or, even more unrealistically, the next pope at the Vatican, for that matter makes me wonder longer.
I believe in miracles.
Most of my life, a lot had to be made from a little like the loaves and the fishes, like the water added to the kettle of potato soup that my mother or father made for the nine of us, including some stray friends of my sister's and brother's who didn't know enough to go home when family was gathering to eat.
That leads my thoughts and takes me decades ago down the street with the bus on Van Dyke when my family lined up near Tappan and Lynch Road on Detroit's East Side to be carried to our home church of Saint Thomas the Apostle, miles away.
Twenty-five cents and a nickel for a transfer to ride the DSR, then. Over a buck today months ago on M DOT when I rode the bus on Jefferson Avenue through St. Clair Shores, MI, south from where I reside in Harrison Township, MI., and the St. Clair Park that we dubbed as Metro Beach at 16/Jefferson, a jewel of a park like Detroit's Belle Isle minutes from downtown's business district.
Times have changed.
The bus needs to be replaced, or, at least supplemented by rapid transit. And, the Big Three CEOs need to move over, morph, and finally let this hatch along Woodward, at minimum, for so many students, workers, seniors and others packing a bus whose time has come for a new Spring.
Much like Benedict XVI's legacy of moving over, he said, for younger leadership. Talk about tranparency and humility of recognizing his own physical limitations. Bless him!
Another road for him, another place of prayer, study and writing, but living at the Vatican so close to the next Pontiff, not so sure that's a good idea free of his influence, NOT!
Or, more practically effective, like the "Nuns on the Bus" with Sister Campbell, among others, with the women pressing for mending, morphing and justice, these vowed religious, among others, like the Immaculate Heart of Mary Sisters, Mercy Sister, and, the Sisters of Saint Joseph of the Third Order of Saint Francis, who taught me at Saint Thomas High School in Detroit, pioneer fresh ways that work for change today.
Orphanages, hospitals and schools, among other Christian-based services, stemmed from the heart and soul of these wise women who wait for a place at the table today too!
They do!
At St. Mark's Church on Harsen's Island off off M-29 and Twenty-three Mile Road, the other Sunday, after Mass, a mother with her husband and son, asked: "Hey, Father, why aren't the nuns up there?"
"At the altar,?" I shot back.
"Yes," the curious Catholic challenged.
The recognition of Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI's limited capacity to carry the Petrine Office no longer, merits making of his transparency and candor to retire at 85 a sign of things to come at the conclave of the college of cardinals who meet soon to select a successor to the pastor and professor-like Benedict who led an awesome three-book seminar on Jesus at his weekly audiences, and a triptych on the Jesus of history and Lord of faith, among his virtues of humility, patience, and enduring long suffering steadfastness to lead despite the job's impossible tasks for any singular man or woman of faith.
Enlarging the bus for all, the table for all, the Curia in Motown and the Vatican for all, and, significant leadership roles for all in the spirit of Vatican II and beyond to this modern world is a way to recognize the bold step Benedict took to resign under the weight of the Office.
He has paved the way now in his candor for a larger bus for the entire family, beyond the twenty preceding ecumenical councils from the first one in 325 to the twentieth in 1869 that put out fires!
Vatican II built a fire unlike any previous Council with the universal, global bishops present in 1962-65.
Vatican III will ignite and apply the principles and fruits of that historic council left untried, and so poorly packaged in that era of social change and protest in the 60s. It will enlarge the bus for the entire family's participation.
It will.
My Detroit will learn from representatives at the Vatican this March beyond cardinals and curia officials controlling a system waiting, a Church waiting to be born in a new Springtime for all.
The bus needs going down another road, however, with bigger seats and more space, conditioning of the Holy Spirit, and, a revised curial system that will keep Mother Church rolling into the next century, and beyond, with zest and vigor for all!
Starting with the principle of subsidiarity, however, at at Van Dyke and Lynch Road, or, at the Cathedral of the Most Blessed Sacrament on Woodward in Detroit, where we sang and prayed an awesome holy hour for the pope Thursday, works. (Subsidiarity means making decisions at the lowest level of local church, for example, not sending all the abuse cases to Rome to settle, to illustrate my point).
Local leaders traditionally have led here at home when few Offices at the Vatican existed, and bishops largely communicated with the Chair of Peter.
Faithful:
Let the Church bus begin afresh, anew, attuned and attentive to the signs of these times!
And, roll! (Perhaps rock also!)
Rock and roll.
Some lively liturgies would enliven people to be more free at Mass to sing out, shout praise and be more in adoration of our living God, and each other, a living Church far from a museum, or, monarch-centered, controlled, managed focus. Homilies could be hewed also. Living in the trenches would help.
Like doing more than talking about Detroit's crime, and, sky-high weeds enveloping homes of the elderly in that beleaguered City I love.
Pray and act.
And, live! Don't die, or ossify!
Live the Easter life we recall again, resurrected forever in these feisty bones and being and Body of Christ.
Similar to how John Cardinal Dearden said he felt after the conclusion of the second Vatican Council in '65: "I wanted to throw my mitre (pointed hat) into the air at the closing Mass, but we were too stayed for that!"
Why not throw off those mitres now and get in the bus with the faithful, brothers!
Mend and morph in the mind of Christ who called you.
And, give birth to fire once more, discovering fire for the second time in God's love for all!
I bet Detroit will get in on the bus, then, and follow suit, lock step your lead, fix the broken buses with a new rapid transit system, and, provide security and a quality of life in the example and lifestyle of this Century and beyond that you set with a curial system that works wonders.
Even sings together with the total church family beyond an orchestra at the Detroit Opera House, or, a sing-along at a local parish.
All may even hum a happy tune, for sure, I bet you, my God of life and love! Somewhat like the precise, wise and director-orchestrated video of the Pope Emeritus' flight into the skies Thursday.
There, the inexorable trajectory of the helicopter in front of the background of a majestic and exhausted city, a tired and aging church, and the hypnotic hum of the blades as the lone sound, accompanied by the bells of Rome that tolled the newly Vacant Seat -- for the first time, joyfully!
And, God knows we all need them, no?
Wonderful!
Awaiting a new Spring for Lent (Old English word, "lencten," meaning, Springtime) and the Triduum (Highest 3 holy days of the Christian calendar with Easter Season of 50 days, beyond Lent's 40, starting March 31st) that debuts on Holy Thursday, March 28th, at the Mass of the Lord's Supper at the Cathedral Church of the Most Blessed Sacrament in Detroit where all "stops" are pulled in full, active and conscious participation of the whole family present. And, in the hearts of a Church, a People of God reborn in Motown, and more!
And, so much more Holy Ghost hope humming. . .with hymns of happy tunes of saints, sinners, the saintly secluded and excluded anew, like Good Book's Ecclesiastes' every season under the heavens to turn, turn, turn, repent, and morph, and fix a broken body of Christ, an ailing and fractured and fragmented bus with too few wheels with air, yearning for healing, health, and wellness.
We can fix this bruised, broken and tired bus.
Yes, we can, together, family of disciples of Jesus.
Make more room on the bus, or, supplant it with rapid transit, and 21st century ways.
I believe.
It will.
Beyond the broken-down lights, streets, fire, and security systems, morale needs morphing.
But, so does City government need tweaking.
It does.
And, to do all this before my Motown's collapse and moral failure, who will lead?
How will it get mended?
It seems citizens pay for a lot of talk and meetings as in other circles, or pyramids, called processes.
Governing worked in the past with well-placed systems of balances, enforcement, and consequences for behaviors that were (are) a detriment to keeping "city hall" moving.
Does it work today?
Defining who Detroit is, and, Church, also, for that matter, would help immensely.
Reminding people of who one is helps roll out the action involved. Too many distractions pull people away from the lone mission. Helping people know, love and serve God, and breaking open the reign of God saw an early Way, of community, work well. Like the "reign of God" Jesus proclaimed. That Bishop Thomas Gumbleton preached to a packed hall in Clinton Township, MI., last Monday. Some, in fact, told him they "acclaimed" him to be the next pope. At 84?
Can one hope with that evergreen virtue, or, strength, for Lent's "springtime" for this once vibrant and bustling City of Detroit that ranked right up there with Chicago, even New York?
Can citizens, and, the faithful also look for a Vatican Spring also that has stirred and turned a cycle of autocratic systems, even regimes, that today seem to solely put out "fires" or, segments and populations who seem to fuel foment or reasonable challenge to ossified postures, proxy and positions?
One wouldn't think so with all the jaw flapping from the lowest to the highest levels.
And, look at how former civic leaders, let alone ecclesiastical prelates who have led, steered supposedly, and have been declared ineffective, even corrupt in some cases.
Kicking the "can" of issues to the emergency manager in Detroit, or, even more unrealistically, the next pope at the Vatican, for that matter makes me wonder longer.
I believe in miracles.
Most of my life, a lot had to be made from a little like the loaves and the fishes, like the water added to the kettle of potato soup that my mother or father made for the nine of us, including some stray friends of my sister's and brother's who didn't know enough to go home when family was gathering to eat.
That leads my thoughts and takes me decades ago down the street with the bus on Van Dyke when my family lined up near Tappan and Lynch Road on Detroit's East Side to be carried to our home church of Saint Thomas the Apostle, miles away.
Twenty-five cents and a nickel for a transfer to ride the DSR, then. Over a buck today months ago on M DOT when I rode the bus on Jefferson Avenue through St. Clair Shores, MI, south from where I reside in Harrison Township, MI., and the St. Clair Park that we dubbed as Metro Beach at 16/Jefferson, a jewel of a park like Detroit's Belle Isle minutes from downtown's business district.
Times have changed.
The bus needs to be replaced, or, at least supplemented by rapid transit. And, the Big Three CEOs need to move over, morph, and finally let this hatch along Woodward, at minimum, for so many students, workers, seniors and others packing a bus whose time has come for a new Spring.
Much like Benedict XVI's legacy of moving over, he said, for younger leadership. Talk about tranparency and humility of recognizing his own physical limitations. Bless him!
Another road for him, another place of prayer, study and writing, but living at the Vatican so close to the next Pontiff, not so sure that's a good idea free of his influence, NOT!
Or, more practically effective, like the "Nuns on the Bus" with Sister Campbell, among others, with the women pressing for mending, morphing and justice, these vowed religious, among others, like the Immaculate Heart of Mary Sisters, Mercy Sister, and, the Sisters of Saint Joseph of the Third Order of Saint Francis, who taught me at Saint Thomas High School in Detroit, pioneer fresh ways that work for change today.
Orphanages, hospitals and schools, among other Christian-based services, stemmed from the heart and soul of these wise women who wait for a place at the table today too!
They do!
At St. Mark's Church on Harsen's Island off off M-29 and Twenty-three Mile Road, the other Sunday, after Mass, a mother with her husband and son, asked: "Hey, Father, why aren't the nuns up there?"
"At the altar,?" I shot back.
"Yes," the curious Catholic challenged.
The recognition of Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI's limited capacity to carry the Petrine Office no longer, merits making of his transparency and candor to retire at 85 a sign of things to come at the conclave of the college of cardinals who meet soon to select a successor to the pastor and professor-like Benedict who led an awesome three-book seminar on Jesus at his weekly audiences, and a triptych on the Jesus of history and Lord of faith, among his virtues of humility, patience, and enduring long suffering steadfastness to lead despite the job's impossible tasks for any singular man or woman of faith.
Enlarging the bus for all, the table for all, the Curia in Motown and the Vatican for all, and, significant leadership roles for all in the spirit of Vatican II and beyond to this modern world is a way to recognize the bold step Benedict took to resign under the weight of the Office.
He has paved the way now in his candor for a larger bus for the entire family, beyond the twenty preceding ecumenical councils from the first one in 325 to the twentieth in 1869 that put out fires!
Vatican II built a fire unlike any previous Council with the universal, global bishops present in 1962-65.
Vatican III will ignite and apply the principles and fruits of that historic council left untried, and so poorly packaged in that era of social change and protest in the 60s. It will enlarge the bus for the entire family's participation.
It will.
My Detroit will learn from representatives at the Vatican this March beyond cardinals and curia officials controlling a system waiting, a Church waiting to be born in a new Springtime for all.
The bus needs going down another road, however, with bigger seats and more space, conditioning of the Holy Spirit, and, a revised curial system that will keep Mother Church rolling into the next century, and beyond, with zest and vigor for all!
Starting with the principle of subsidiarity, however, at at Van Dyke and Lynch Road, or, at the Cathedral of the Most Blessed Sacrament on Woodward in Detroit, where we sang and prayed an awesome holy hour for the pope Thursday, works. (Subsidiarity means making decisions at the lowest level of local church, for example, not sending all the abuse cases to Rome to settle, to illustrate my point).
Local leaders traditionally have led here at home when few Offices at the Vatican existed, and bishops largely communicated with the Chair of Peter.
Faithful:
Let the Church bus begin afresh, anew, attuned and attentive to the signs of these times!
And, roll! (Perhaps rock also!)
Rock and roll.
Some lively liturgies would enliven people to be more free at Mass to sing out, shout praise and be more in adoration of our living God, and each other, a living Church far from a museum, or, monarch-centered, controlled, managed focus. Homilies could be hewed also. Living in the trenches would help.
Like doing more than talking about Detroit's crime, and, sky-high weeds enveloping homes of the elderly in that beleaguered City I love.
Pray and act.
And, live! Don't die, or ossify!
Live the Easter life we recall again, resurrected forever in these feisty bones and being and Body of Christ.
Similar to how John Cardinal Dearden said he felt after the conclusion of the second Vatican Council in '65: "I wanted to throw my mitre (pointed hat) into the air at the closing Mass, but we were too stayed for that!"
Why not throw off those mitres now and get in the bus with the faithful, brothers!
Mend and morph in the mind of Christ who called you.
And, give birth to fire once more, discovering fire for the second time in God's love for all!
I bet Detroit will get in on the bus, then, and follow suit, lock step your lead, fix the broken buses with a new rapid transit system, and, provide security and a quality of life in the example and lifestyle of this Century and beyond that you set with a curial system that works wonders.
Even sings together with the total church family beyond an orchestra at the Detroit Opera House, or, a sing-along at a local parish.
All may even hum a happy tune, for sure, I bet you, my God of life and love! Somewhat like the precise, wise and director-orchestrated video of the Pope Emeritus' flight into the skies Thursday.
There, the inexorable trajectory of the helicopter in front of the background of a majestic and exhausted city, a tired and aging church, and the hypnotic hum of the blades as the lone sound, accompanied by the bells of Rome that tolled the newly Vacant Seat -- for the first time, joyfully!
And, God knows we all need them, no?
Wonderful!
Awaiting a new Spring for Lent (Old English word, "lencten," meaning, Springtime) and the Triduum (Highest 3 holy days of the Christian calendar with Easter Season of 50 days, beyond Lent's 40, starting March 31st) that debuts on Holy Thursday, March 28th, at the Mass of the Lord's Supper at the Cathedral Church of the Most Blessed Sacrament in Detroit where all "stops" are pulled in full, active and conscious participation of the whole family present. And, in the hearts of a Church, a People of God reborn in Motown, and more!
And, so much more Holy Ghost hope humming. . .with hymns of happy tunes of saints, sinners, the saintly secluded and excluded anew, like Good Book's Ecclesiastes' every season under the heavens to turn, turn, turn, repent, and morph, and fix a broken body of Christ, an ailing and fractured and fragmented bus with too few wheels with air, yearning for healing, health, and wellness.
We can fix this bruised, broken and tired bus.
Yes, we can, together, family of disciples of Jesus.
Make more room on the bus, or, supplant it with rapid transit, and 21st century ways.
I believe.
Friday, March 1, 2013
Leaving - Exodus and a Last Good-Bye
The inexorable trajectory of the helicopter in front of the background of a majestic and exhausted city, the hyptonic hum of the blades of the bird carrying the Pope Emeritus to the summer papal residence, accompanied by the bells of Rome, all tolled the fresh vacant seat of the papacy.
I noticed a tear from a pilgrim there. Sadness spilled over from the raidant faces of the flock.
A Shepherd says farewell.
Grief grows.
And, in Detroit's Most Blessed Sacrament at about the same time of the pope's departure and exodus from his Office, hundreds prayed in silence, and, with vigor, sung:
"Great Shepherd of your people, hear,
Your presence now display;
As you have giv'n a place for pryaer, so give us hearts to pray.
Within these walls let holy peace and love and concord dwell;
Here give the troubled conscience ease, the wounded spirit heal."
A wounded healer takes exodus like those in the wilderness seeking the Promised Land from Egypt.
Now, more serene that viewed for a long time, Jospeh Ratzinger, Pope Emeritus, goes off into the air for his final phase of life.
Life is like that desolation and consolation.
It is.
At the other end of a pew where I sat, a woman dropped.
Alarm swept the assembly.
The presiding prelate repeated the request for medical assistance.
As the anemic parishioner laid on the bench of the pew, she was anointed.
EMS was called.
An irregular hearbeat was discovered also.
A litany of prayers were sung in Latin.
Sancta Maria/Holy Mary,
Tu illam adjuva/Grant her peace.
One huge heart ached in more ways than one.
Healing is prayed for this holy hour.
Holy Communion with the living Body of Christ.
Food for the soul, mind and body was proclaimed in Acts 20:17-18, 28-32, 36 and Psalm 16, followed by John 21:15-19, Jesus asking Peter three times to feed, love, serve:
DO YOU LOVE ME?
Do I?
I noticed a tear from a pilgrim there. Sadness spilled over from the raidant faces of the flock.
A Shepherd says farewell.
Grief grows.
And, in Detroit's Most Blessed Sacrament at about the same time of the pope's departure and exodus from his Office, hundreds prayed in silence, and, with vigor, sung:
"Great Shepherd of your people, hear,
Your presence now display;
As you have giv'n a place for pryaer, so give us hearts to pray.
Within these walls let holy peace and love and concord dwell;
Here give the troubled conscience ease, the wounded spirit heal."
A wounded healer takes exodus like those in the wilderness seeking the Promised Land from Egypt.
Now, more serene that viewed for a long time, Jospeh Ratzinger, Pope Emeritus, goes off into the air for his final phase of life.
Life is like that desolation and consolation.
It is.
At the other end of a pew where I sat, a woman dropped.
Alarm swept the assembly.
The presiding prelate repeated the request for medical assistance.
As the anemic parishioner laid on the bench of the pew, she was anointed.
EMS was called.
An irregular hearbeat was discovered also.
A litany of prayers were sung in Latin.
Sancta Maria/Holy Mary,
Tu illam adjuva/Grant her peace.
One huge heart ached in more ways than one.
Healing is prayed for this holy hour.
Holy Communion with the living Body of Christ.
Food for the soul, mind and body was proclaimed in Acts 20:17-18, 28-32, 36 and Psalm 16, followed by John 21:15-19, Jesus asking Peter three times to feed, love, serve:
DO YOU LOVE ME?
Do I?
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