Living Holiness

By Fred Vilbig

Americans are obsessed with freedom. If you look at religion as a set of rules or practices designed to reach your ultimate happiness, Americans treat freedom as a kind of religion. We are our own god in this religion since we say we are free to do whatever we want to make us happy. For that reason, we do not like rules.

To the extent we don’t just ignore them, we tend to resent the 10 Commandments or any other “Church” rules that limit our “freedom”. We see them as preventing us from being “happy,” instead of looking at them as a kind of owner’s manual designed to help us reach our ultimate happiness.

But breaking a commandment rarely brings us happiness. We get caught in our lies. The things we steal bring us misery, guilt, and ultimately unhappiness, the opposite of the happiness we seek. Adultery does not make people feel fulfilled, just cheap. The happiness sin promises is a lie. The impression that sins will bring us happiness is one of the empty promises of Satan that we reject in our baptismal vows.

It seems that sin also has “real” consequences as well. When we push God away, we bring chaos and destruction into our world. In God, there is truth, unity, beauty, and all the other perfections. Away from God is chaos, loneliness, lies, and deformity. When we push God out of our lives through sin, we bring on the darkness.

The Power of Story, II

Most of this reflection was written many years ago and shared at a healing mass at St. Norbert parish. Tara has come a long way since then. Now that she is entering adulthood perhaps her story can offer encouragement or perspective to others.

Keepin’ it Real

Normally I ask out of courtesy.  “How you doing?”  That question is often answered with, “Oh, you know, staying busy. Same old, same old.  Kids are growing up so fast, the days just run together, you know.”  A few pleasant smiles, maybe a complaint about politics or the LA Rams.  I go on about my day.  I mention to my wife that I ran into so and so today.  “Oh, how are they doing?”  “They are doing good.  He looks good.”  “That’s nice.”  Then I think about it.  Are they doing good?  Did I ask?  Did I really even want to know?

The next day, it happens again.  “Hey!  What is the good word my friend?”  “Not much.”  “How are you doing?”  “Can’t complain.”  Then I catch myself.  I slow down, look him squarely in the eyes and sincerely say, “How are you doing?”  He’s put off by the awkward stare and direct question.  “I’m fine.”  I slow down even more.  I grab both of his shoulders and ask, “Seriously.  How are you?”  I saw the look in his eye, asking me if I really meant it, and seeing that, yes, I absolutley did.  His gaze goes to the ground.  “I’m struggling.  Sarah and I don’t love each other anymore.  I’m one bad quarter away from getting fired at work, and I think Jason is into drugs.  I’m totally lost.”

Why do I go through so much of my life without having real conversations with people?  Am I that busy?  That selfish?  That shallow?  Somewhere along the line, I learned that I needed to be productive.  Just bottomline it for me and I’ll make a quick decision and move on.  Move on to what?  A life full of meaningless acquaintances?  I have 20 year relationships with people that I interact with regularly and I honestly don’t know the first thing about who they really are.  Past the pretty Christmas card photo and linkedin profile, what is really going on in the wet basement of their lives?  What is the point of having a friend if all you talk about is the DOW Jones and the cost of tuition?  What would happen if I took my mask off every once in a while, and was truly venerable to someone I trust?  What if I let them see the real me and asked them just to stand with me through what I’m going through?

It’s time we change.  It’s time that we slow down and give our undivided attention to the person across from us.  That we share all of ourselves, the good and the bad.  Only then can we minister to each other.  Only then can we truly create a bond that is real and lasting.  I read a quote out of A Hobbit A Wardrobe and A Great War by Joseph Loconte. It’s a book about J.R.R. Tolkien’s friendship with C.S. Lewis and how the events of WWI shaped their views on life, transformed their writing, and grew them together as best friends.  

I like this quote about friendship:

You will not find the warrior, the poet, the philosopher or the Christian by staring into his eyes as if he were your mistress: better to fight beside him, read with him, argue with him, pray with him.

If you want a shot in the arm of real fellowship, one that laughs at the pleasantries and gets down to the nitty gritty of brotherhood, go on CRHP.  I remember my first CRHP like it was yesterday.  I couldn’t believe I started talking about things with men I’d known for 4 hours, that I hadn’t shared with my “best friend” of 30 years.  The peace that came from it.  The camaraderie that is shared when you get real with people.  I still see guys from that weekend 15 years later and there is still this extra glance.  It’s hard to describe.  It’s just a shared experience that is so transforming.

Stop worrying about being late.  Your to do list will always be there.  There are only certain opportunities for us to experience real human connection.  When we give or receive it, there is a euphoria that happens.  That experience is what occurs when God’s children are living fully in His will, doing His work, radiating His love. 

The Power of Story

This past Satday morning at PX90 the focus was CRHP.  For those of you who don't know, CRHP stands for Christ Renews His Parish.  CRHP is a retreat put on by ordinary men like you and me - no experience necessary.  At PX90 we had one of the men who is currently preparing to give the weekend talk about his faith journey.

As I sat listening, I was reminded of the power of story. Story is a big part of the retreat, and one of the wonderful realizations from the experence - at least in my opinion - is that everyone is broken and on a journey to becoming whole again.  And if one takes the time to look, it is easy to see that God is always right there, walking the path with us.

If your heart longs for this same sense of fellowship in your brokeness, then I strongly suggest you consider attending the mens CRHP retreat at Holy Infant on jan 30-31 to hear more stories from more broken men on the journey like you and me.

So in that vain, here is part of my story...

Epiphany ... Who are you looking for?

“The people who walked in darkness

have seen a great light;

upon those who dwelt in the land 

of gloom

     a light has shone.”      Isaiah 9:1

We live in uncertain times … not the first time.  With unrest, turmoil in the world … at home and abroad, know these words are as true today as they were 750 BC. 

“Fear is a terrible thing.  It cripples us into passivity.  It ruins our memories of past or present events, and it undermines dignified, trusting, and respectful relationships.  … to any degree that fear rules our lives, let’s hear God’s greeting this Christmas:   ‘Do not be afraid,’ and take some risks in our faith, hope, and love.” — Richard Leonard, SJ.  

From this initial reading from Isaiah introducing Midnight Mass through Matthew’s gospel for the Epiphany, I find rich interludes of hope. 

     Found no where else in scripture, in twelve verses, Matthew writes a story of searching, fear, and wonder.  The Feast of the Epiphany is about signs, … ecumenism, … the Universal Church, not about facts and science.  After reading the story each season, I find myself asking numerous questions:  

Why did the stargazers who had been guided from the east to Jerusalem stop to ask Herod, of all people, for directions?  

If the star had been doing such an effective job, then why didn’t it simply take them all the way to the manger?  In addition, why use a dream to lead them out of danger instead of the star they had been following?

If Herod thought the wise men had revealed a threat to his throne in another ruler, then why didn’t Herod follow the astrologers or at least send a spy to track them?

Though many stories have been composed about them, the Magi disappeared as quickly as they came.  They recognized Jesus for who he was.  Why didn’t they stay and share their discovery with others?  Where’d they go?  What happened to them?  They’re never mentioned again.

Upon considering the recent acts of terrorism, religious fanatical violence in Paris and San Bernardino, I’ve read Matthew’s story with a different lens.  Matthew wrote for a Jewish audience, a chosen people of Israel.  They longed to be in the presence of the Messiah. Yet, it is Gentiles from three different lands along with shepherds, people living on the fringes, who are among the first to recognize Jesus as “the newborn king of the Jews.”  Familiar with the words of the prophets, the Magi recognize the infant for who he is.   Do we dialogue with those of other faiths or those who may negate the existence of God and find new significance in our relationship with our Creator and others?  Do we recognize the Spirit of Jesus in others?

The Magi’s encounter with the star is an encounter with the Almighty.  During their journey, these men are immersed in nature and take meaning and guidance from it.  How often are we inspired, perhaps overwhelmed with our encounters with the outside world?  Do we take time to ponder?

As I introduced with Isaiah, fear challenges our lives as Christians, as all people of faith of any kind in ecumenism.  In the weeks to come during another year of life, we are asked to respond in new growth in our relationship with Jesus.  Will our response be similar to that of Herod’s; a fear of letting go, … a fear of surrendering control or power, … becoming manipulative or deceitful, … abusing our position of influence for personal welfare?  

As wise men and women who have encountered the newborn king in a manger; with integrity, we must act intelligently and respectfully with power; stay focused and committed to our journey; believe in dreams; and pray that we are never so arrogant as to limit how we think God works in our world such that we miss experiencing the very essence of a loving God we long to behold!