Wednesday, September 25, 2019

Kintsugi anyone?









From Wikipedia:

"Kintsugi ( "golden joinery"), also known as Kintsukuroi ("golden repair"), is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery by mending the areas of breakage with lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum, a method similar to the maki-e technique. As a philosophy, it treats breakage and repair as part of the history of an object, rather than something to disguise."
What a beautiful concept...

My brokenness often gets the best of me.  Instead of a functional creation with form, purpose and integrity, I am often the fragments lying on the floor.  

God picks up those fragments, one by one - slowly and tenderly applying the lacquer, lacing it with his golden love.  Piece by piece he rebuilds, restores - knowing the value of the whole.  Soon a shape can be discerned - but jagged, with rough edges.  

There is some functionality present, yet care is needed in its use - time for the bonding to solidify. As time passes, some fragments loosen and fall back as gravity pulls towards lower levels of being.  

God's hands keep crafting, searching and finding just the right piece to fill just the right holes.

There are moments when the creation is whole again - and its use fulfills its design.  It seems though that forces in this world work against continued wholeness, and soon the floor is filled with fragments again.

It is a process followed over and over again...for Our God does not know surrender.   


Image result for kintsugi


Maybe this is what God sees when he looks at you and me....Such beauty - why are we so intent on hiding it?


Monday, September 16, 2019

I wish I could be there, but I can't

Well, here we are a few days away from my son getting married.  I’m so excited for him.  I remember like it was yesterday starting my life with Lisa.  We didn’t have a clue, but somehow we bumped and bounced our way through life.  I think back through our engagement and our first years of marriage.  It was all so new and amazing.  We had waited so long for this, that it felt like we had finally arrived at some long awaited destination.  Little did we know that we were only beginning our journey.  We’ve had some amazing experiences.  Four beautiful children, losing my job, starting a company, finding our faith, the death of my dad, all of it.  With Lisa and Hanna being gone for a week on pilgrimage, it’s given me a quick taste of what my life would be like without a partner to share it with.  It’s a strange feeling.  There wasn’t a lot of loneliness, since I can busy myself with visits to friends and family and business trips.  There was just a loss of purpose I guess.  All of the feelings I have about Joey moving out of the house, the frustrations I have at work, the “where is my blue overnight bag?” question.  Life has more meaning and richness when someone is shoulder to shoulder with you living it out.  It makes me think of my mom, living alone in her condo, quietly missing my dad for the last eight years who she said just made everyday ordinary things seem bigger and more exciting.  

Our daily work is transformed into a grand adventure when you have someone to share it with.  I sat alone in mass for the first time on Sunday.  I think that might have been when I missed Lisa and Hanna the most. Yet there are so many people I see in our parish who go to mass alone every week, and I never paid it much attention.

I think of Adam when he finally had Eve enter his life.  There was this, “Yes!” that leapt from his soul. He was designed to be in union with someone and once that happened, he was like, “Finally, this is it!”  I get it.  I feel that same way.  Now don’t get me wrong, my marriage isn’t a constant, blissful glow of appreciation. We drive each other crazy, and push the other’s buttons.  But there are moments like this week where I get a glimpse of what my life would be like alone.  It’s in those brief instances that I am thankful that God designed me to be in communion. Ultimately that communion is to be with him, but the closest thing to that is the communion I have in marriage. My vocation in life.  My foretaste of heaven.

That’s what I want for my son.  Not an easy life.  Not an argument free marriage.  Heck, some of the most formative moments in my marriage were when we were at the brink. I wish him the knowledge and confidence that all of the joys and pains he will experience in his life, outside of my protection, is meant to forge him into the man that God wants him to become. It reminds me of a song I heard from Marc Broussard.  The song is written to his son, explaining how he can’t be there with him, but he loves him and wishes him well.  I think in a lot of ways, that’s the hardest part for me.  Knowing that I have to let him go.   I want to take care of my son.  I want to provide for him.  I have this need to grill something for him to eat, or to make him laugh.  But I can’t.  It’s time for him to start his life, like I started mine.  I wish him well.



I wish you freedom
I wish you peace
I wish you nights of stars
That beckon you to sleep
I wish you heartache
That leaves you more of a man
I wish I could be there
But I can't
I wish you places
That sit so still
Where people never ever change
And never ever will
I wish I could hold you
And make you understand
I wish I could be there
But I can't
Be good for your mama
'Cause she'll need a hand to hold
Boy, she loves you
More than you'll ever know
There are rhymes and there are reasons
And times when nothing stayed the same
But you know my love still remains
I wish you wisdom
I wish you years
I wish you armies
To conquer all your fears
I wish you courage
For all that life demands
I wish I could be there
But I can't
Be good for your mama
'Cause she'll need a hand to hold
Boy, she loves you
More than you'll ever know
There are rhymes and there are reasons
And times when nothing stayed the same
But you know my love still remains
I wish we were together
I wish I was home
I wish there were nights
Where I was never alone
I know, I've said it
But I'll say it once again
I wish I could be there
But I can't

Wednesday, September 4, 2019

Always In Motion

“Can a mother forget her infant, be without tenderness for the child of her womb?  Even should she forget, I will never forget you.  See, upon the palms of my hands I have written your name.” Isaiah 49:15-16

“Are not five sparrows sold for a few pennies?  Yet not one of them is neglected by God.  In very truth, even the hairs of your head are counted!  Fear nothing, then.  You are worth more than a flock of sparrows.”  Luke 12:6-7

I could have …
            been born among Tutsis in Rwanda and orphaned at the hands of the Hutus and their machetes....
            lived in a sod hut with clay floor among a Columbian family who loved me very much.   They stripped the limbs of coca plants to supply cocaine to wealthy countries who drove the demand ...
            watched my younger sister terrified of the ocean sink below waves to drown off the coast of Libya after our overcrowded boat capsized ...
            been a Venezuelan farmer, a father of four children whose successful farm was seized by rebels while my livestock was senselessly slaughtered, carcasses left to rot, invite disease ...
            received my Guatemalan family’s life savings to buy the services of a coyote to smuggle me alone in unsanitary, stagnant box cars into the U.S. in hopes of a college education …
            lived without food and sanitary water since foreign high tech had automated manufacturing displacing my parents from jobs in my home community already stressed from low wages, no medical, and poor housing ….
            been raised indifferent and wondering why all of the above can exist in a largely “faith-based” world?

            People have always been in motion, on the move.   In recent weeks, the books of Exodus and Numbers have recounted the story of the Israelites’ migration out of Egypt to a land of promise.  Their exodus is physically and spiritually codependent.  When the spiritual and the physical unravel, and they often do in the narrative; the essence and the vitality of their journey to the promised land, our Kingdom, is lost.  They fail.  

“But Moses said to God, “Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh and lead the children of Israel out of Egypt?” He answered, “I will be with you; ….
The children of Israel set out from Ramses for Succoth, about six hundred thousand men on foot, not counting the little ones.  A crowd of mixed ancestry also went up with them, besides their livestock, very numerous flocks and herds.  They had rushed out of Egypt and had no opportunity even to prepare food for the journey.”  Exodus 3:11-12, 12: 37-39

            God commissioned a dissident, a man sentenced to death for killing an Egyptian, Moses to lead the Israelites out of Egypt.  He was a Hebrew married to a gentile.  God promised to be with Moses and his people at all times.  Moses questioned his abilities and God’s commitment.  Amongst the chaos and frenzy, the Israelites escaped killings, hunger, and slavery to peace.  God provided protection as they passed through disease, death of children, and the Red Sea to dry land.  They were not only free, but holy. 
Yet, these migrants become frustrated, nomadic, and afraid.  Despite just enough manna to eat off the ground, the Israelites grew weary, ungrateful, lost vision, forgot they were a people of God.  Despair crushed their trust in God.  Hope to reach the promised land ceased.  Moses, the hands, feet, eyes, ears of God, reminded the Israelites of justice and the bread of the Lord.  Though they promised and failed, God did not.  Moses led God’s people to the promised land.


   








What we typically think of immigrants on the move today are not unlike those of the Israelites driven by fear; a norm of social violence, relentless poverty, rummaging, exploring, inventing, ways to survive.  Under excruciating pressure, ill-prepared, they move.  Physical violence, destroyed habitat, technology replacing purpose and worth, cultural and ethnic prejudices, all threaten dreams and welfare.
Christ “loved” their lives, all existence into being!  God calls us to be the hands offering migrants welcome and peace.
As humans, we migrate.   We chase our hopes, callings, but not without loss, mourning.  “We all experience the constant drama of the new and the constant sorrow of the loss of what we’ve left behind.  It is a universal sorrow and one so potent that we seek to deny it, rarely acknowledging it in ourselves, let alone in others.  We’re encouraged by society to focus only on the new, on acquisition, rather than on the loss that is the other thread uniting and binding our species.” (1)  Time like a wave continuously sweeps us forward without pause.
I did not choose my family, the parents to whom I was born, initially where I lived, my social economic class, color of my skin, faith, and initial education.  I was born to a loving family that allowed me the privilege of living in the United States.  I’ve lived in six states and sixteen cities with opportunities improving my employment, education, family life, and research.  Had I been born in Europe, I might have lived in as many as ten countries.  I felt sad leaving family and friends and renewed adding new friends to my family.
We’re all migrants.  We’re all in motion.  People move north, south, east, west, out into space and deep into their oceans.  They claim space as if it’s theirs; only for time and death to take it away.  Vast numbers typically characterized as migrants are like those mentioned above, fleeing to a place of refuge, peace, education, medicine, opportunity.  People forget they, themselves have migrated in marriage, to better jobs, healthcare, climate, education, social circles, teams, peace.  They migrate through sacraments, families, and the seasons of life.  Yet, excluding fear and threats, aren’t the oppressed numbers seeking the same opportunities as freedom and hope, as those that migrate freely? 
            Not unlike the Israelites, people segregate into nationals and migrants.  The nationals entitle themselves as natives.  Though not unlike false gods, they construct high electric fences, bury heavy minefields between walls, install elaborate surveillance to enforce their superiority.  If the reason people are in motion is due to need, fear and threats, they are often unwelcomed.  People argue it is different because their steps carried them within the boundaries of their country, not into a new country.  
Our journey, like that of the Israelites, is physical intertwined with the spiritual!  God promised to be with us.  For those who have read my previous blogs, I trust the Creator; the Kingdom of God is here.  We’re in it!
The beaten down Israelites wandered the desert with Moses leading them to the promised land.  And after they arrived searching for something better, they complained.  “As long as you operate inside any scarcity model, there will never be enough God or grace to go around.  Jesus came to undo our notions of scarcity and tip us over into a worldview of absolute abundance – or what he would call the ‘Kingdom of God.’  (2)  In moments of grace, we capture glimpses of the Kingdom in our lives and in the lives of others where everything feels right in the universe.  We want to freeze time; the birth of a child, worthy accomplishments, celebrations with friends, marvels in nature, new extensions in discovery!  Unfortunately, we can’t suspend time.  When I grumble, I feel the breakdown of my relationship with my Guide.  Christ moves with us along our search for the Kingdom, for it is grand and vast beyond our collective imaginations!
Accepting that we are many cultures in motion is imperative.  Human potential continues to amaze.  Consider what a ninety-year-old individual has witnessed through decades of discovery and development.  It is essential we become responsible stewards, good shepherds of the quality of all life in the infinitesimally small spot of the Kingdom we call earth.  We cannot own it, denigrate it, raid it. 
We’re all migrating.  Those south and north of our borders are God’s chosen people just as we are.  The good, exciting news; many are working for justice, better employment, reduced violence, a cleaner environment, a more cohesive community.  More are needed.  Without them, we all fail. 
All are called.  God entrusted creation to our forbearers, to those joining us, our children and all children to come.  We are all the people of God!  We are not alone.  God is with us!
“Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I dedicated you …” Jeremiah 1:5

“Thus, says the Lord, your redeemer, who formed you from the womb: I am the Lord, who made all things, who alone stretched out the heavens; when I spread out the earth, who was with me?”  Isaiah 44:24

(1)  Author Mohsin Hamid, National Geographic 8/2019
(2)  Franciscan priest and author Richard Rohr, director of the Center of Action and Contemplation, Albuquerque, NM