Showing posts with label compassion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label compassion. Show all posts

Sunday, January 4, 2015

Christmas to Epiphany XI: Step Two, and a Longer Walk

This is the Eleventh Day of Christmas, and Epiphany approaches quickly.  


Fr. Delp’s question, how has the birth of Christ changed me, has been playing in my mind – falling asleep, waking, and in moments of quiet that have somehow invaded my busy days.  The question has found paths in my darkness by the light of the three characteristics that Pope Francis says that God is to us, and calls us to be to others – patience, closeness, and tenderness.  I notice now that these paths, having been walked on repeatedly, are becoming easier to recognize, easier to walk.  God’s way is becoming worn in me.

Walking ,walking, walking…this brings me right back to where yesterday’s story left off – my learning from relationships with people living on the street.  Step one was finding a way to actually sit down with them.  Step two is walking the streets with them.

I’d been helped through the first step – sitting down with Malcolm and feeling my kinship to him.  But when our parish’s shelter week was over, I lost the opportunity for a relationship with him.  It was a Warming Center that let me proceed toward God’s call to me to “touch them.”  Sts. Peter and Paul is a parish in downtown Detroit that is staffed by the Jesuits.  With the urban mission of the university and the urban commitment of the Jesuits and the Sisters of Mercy, the parish opened “Sts. Peter and Paul Warming Center”.  http://www.sspeterandpauljesuit.org/center.html   Brother Jim was a Jesuit who had started the Warming Center, but led from the rear, empowering those who began as guests to become hosts.  So the luncheon was prepared by those with the gift of feeding, and the speakers were those among them with the gift of words.  The room was filled with people sitting at round tables.  They were law school people on lunch break, parishioners, street people, Jesuits and Mercys, and others who supported the center. 

I’d shared that Ignatian Contemplation, inviting us to enter the story, to be there in it, and not just intellectualize, had been a powerful influence on me, driving me to take the first step.  And it was that gift that drew me powerfully to take the second.  The luncheon speaker told us that the Warming Center was special to him and the others who were homeless because it was a place where they were welcomed, not shunned.  He told us something that I never thought about.  While there are numerous places that those on the street can go for lunch and dinner and shelter, the in-between times find them walking from place to place because to stop is to loiter or freeze.  Duck into a restaurant or store to get out of the cold and you are asked to leave.  Sit down and you are dangerously cold…and seen as loitering, being seen as an eyesore or a threat.  So, he said “We walk, as if we had somewhere to go.”

Just as my retreat had “taken me in” – to the story of Jesus and the crowd – His simple mention of “walking as if we had somewhere to go” took me in to life on the street.  As a passionate introvert, I feel capable of being social when there is something that I can do, some use I can fill.  But ask me to simply mix with people and I’m tortured by self-consciousness.  So at conferences when I am presenting or participating in sessions, I’m comfortable.  But put me in a “reception” in a large room full of strangers, and I want to escape.  Since escape was not appropriate, I’d found a way to cope.  I’d walk randomly through the room as if I had somewhere to go.  I’d do this until we were free to sit down for the meal…just like the person on the stage was saying.  So those words “as if I had somewhere to go” transported me into a person on the street doing the same thing.  I was walking to stay warm, self-conscious of the fact that I didn’t belong, averting my eyes, looking at the cracked sidewalk.  And then I realized that I smelled, and that the clothes that I was wearing were not my own. 

My retreat experience of Jesus calling me beyond my revulsion to the crowd was so real that I knew it as truth for me.  And this very real walk on the streets of Detroit in clothes not my own had the same certain truth for me.

I’d been given three gifts.  I knew in my mind what a Warming Center was.  I knew in my mind why they were valued.  But me than anything else, I found that we have something in common, the street people and me.  We have words to speak…and we find similar ways to cope with our gifts being unneeded or undesired.

And three responses emerged. I left the luncheon shocked to know that there were thousands of people on the street in the city I held proudly as my own.  I felt ashamed that I had lived so long and thought of myself as a caring person so deeply, while this went on and I did not feel it.  And I was determined to make this reality a part of my life. 

The story has continued to unfold since that day at Sts’ Peter and Paul.  After becoming deeply engaged with people on the streets in Detroit and those who care about and for them, retirement in Northern Michigan gave me the opportunity to find caring on a smaller and more personal scale. 

See more about this; learn about my developing ministry with Home Sweet Homelessness, a board game designed in a shelter that serves as a learning tool to help close the distance between those with homes and those without. www.HomeSweetHomelessness.org

Tomorrow – Tenderness as the fruit of patient closeness.




Creative Commons License FreeLemonadeStand by John J. Daniels is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.

Friday, January 2, 2015

Christmas to Epiphany IX: The Closeness of God: Gotta Have a WITH-ness!


On this eighth day of Christmas, we continue to reflect on Fr. Alfred Delp’s question, what difference it makes in our lives that Christ is born, through the Pope's three lenses: the patience of God, the closeness of God, the tenderness of God. 


I don’t know what to do with it, I just do with it. My friend said this the other day about moving beyond his reluctance.

Fr. Delp’s question calls us not to answer, but to action, to our letting the birth of Christ make a difference in our lives, to be, as Pope Francis says, the patience, closeness, and tenderness of God in the world, as Jesus was.

Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea culpa.  I have three faults.  I am resistant to patience, closeness, and tenderness. I want to move quickly, which I find easier alone, and find tenderness difficult in light of my perceived masculinity.  Fear and doubt are names I give this resistance in myself.  But Delp’s question calls me to action. And I know that it’s God’s grace that has taught me that action is not only possible, but rewarding.

A lifetime Catholic, I was taught in grammar school that there are two kinds of grace, actual and sanctifying.  I think of sanctifying grace as a something like habit.  Virtuous activity leaves breadcrumbs along its path, making it easier the next time, and eventually a trail is formed in our psyches.  Modern neurology would call this our brain forming neural pathways. 

I think of Actual Grace as a cartoon, or a science fiction special effect.  The character stands at a chasm, driven to get to the other side.  Urged by some assuring force, the character steps out in trust, and (cue the special effects) with each step, a bridge forms under the outstretched foot.  The means of crossing is formed as the crossing is made. 

We Make the Road byWalking is the title of a book by Miles Horton and Paolo Freire, two advocates of social change from the 70’s.  Miles Horton came out of undergraduate studies ready to get the poor in Appalachia organized to escape poverty.  But he learned from the people there that change came from something more like a conversation than a lecture.  

Change is something that we do with people.  We change too.  The Samaritan was changed by the man on the side of the road, perhaps more than the man he “helped”.

The bridge that Actual Grace builds across the chasm of fear or doubt has, according to Fr. Howard Gray, S.J., four steps: See, Feel, Help, and Change.  If I allow myself see the person in need, I will feel compassion.  If I allow myself to feel that compassion, I will reach out to help.  If I allow myself to help, I will commit to do all I can to help things (in the world and in myself) to change so that the kind of thing that is hurting that person will not hurt others.

Seeing, feeling, helping, and changing is not a practice of walking a trail alone.  My friend’s comment in our earlier discussion of New Year’s resolutions added a word to the Swoosh brand mantra.  He didn’t say “I just do it.”  He said “I just do with it.”

We make the road by walking with.  And the path is made in us as well as in the world.

For the story of the photo, see this link


Tomorrow – I witness my with-ness and homelessness.

Creative Commons License FreeLemonadeStand by John J. Daniels is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.

Sunday, May 8, 2011

The Eyes of the Heart: Alma Mater

Do you notice how the main characters in these after-Easter appearances of Jesus – the locked room and the road to Emmaus – are guys?  In the U.S., today is Mother’s Day as well as the Third Sunday of Easter.  No doubt.

Earl the Twirl - courtesy UDM Athletics
ALMA MATER
In this morning’s Detroit Free Press is a story   that warms my University of Detroit Mercy heart.  It’s on the Sports Page.  It’s a Mother’s Day story – about a guy.  “Earl the Twirl”, we called him back in U of D’s Calihan Hall, this 6’ 9” basketball transfer who ran with his thumbs up all the time, most noticeably when he was loping across the court after scoring, like he was giving himself a thumbs-up, and maybe us, the cheering throng, too.  We guys saw him as points and rebounds, our hope to get back to the NCAA tournament after the Dick Vitale/Long/Duerod/Tyler years that gave our struggling urban university some time in the spotlight.  His mom saw him as a college student.  And she believed in him.
I think that the reason Jesus kept appearing to guys after that first Easter morning was that

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Dogma Or Mystery...YOU Decide.

Does He really rise?  Was He even really the Son of God?  During this week, I hope we all face this, this unknowing.  As soon as I had typed these two questions, I heard in my mind the howls of dogmatic Catholics calling me an infidel for even questioning these beliefs.  But in asking the question, I show the very faith they might argue against.

Faith is belief in the thing not known.  We don’t have faith that all points on a circle are equidistant from the center; we know (at least those of us who know geometry.)  We don’t have faith that two plus two equals four; we know.

But the gift of this mystery of the death and rising of the Son of God is something that, like love, we can fall into, something that we can allow to submerge us, to embrace us, a cloud into which we can enter.  Karen Armstrong says that the gift of mystery (like the Trinity – three persons in one God) is that it does not make sense, and so it calls us to abandon thinking.  To sit with mystery is difficult, because we want to figure it out.  Figuring things out is important to us.  We figure out what is good to eat, what is safe to give our kids, how to get to work safely, all so that we survive.  To stop and not think is contrary to our learned survival instincts.

How do we handle mystery (or more accurately, how do we let mystery handle us?)  Armstrong suggests three things: prayer, ritual, and charitable acts. 

  • Prayer is the practice of the presence of God.  It is not logical or didactic.  It does not make sense.  Like meditation and contemplation, it slows us down, allows us to let go of our attachments, and our body responds with what we call peace but is perhaps a homecoming, and arrival at the place that gave us birth.
  • Ritual – it’s really over the top during Holy Week, appropriate to the over-the-top mystery that we’re encountered by, the death and resurrection of the Son of God.  “Smells and Bells”.  Watch kids at a parade.  They’re all eyes and ears.  They’re taking it all in.  They are unaware of hunger, of cold, and even the presence of their parents.  They are taken by the spectacle.  So fancy vestments and clouds of incense and extra-melodic song and the repetition of verse and litany and jeweled monstrance…help us to forget taxes and mortgages and even pains and worries.  While we find it hard to stop, ritual replaces all that we do, and all of it stops.
  • Charitable acts bring us to another place that makes no sense – another human face.  Isn’t every person honestly encountered a mystery?  Doesn’t the “homeless person” become so much more when we stand and really look at him…and so much more like us?  Thomas Merton’s encounter with the “bag lady” on the streets of Cincinnati changed his life, and all of us in the circle of his light.
Prayer, ritual, and charitable acts take us outside ourselves, beyond the constraints we put on ourselves.  We are like the Samaritan Woman understanding, the blind man seeing, and Lazarus walking out of his tomb.