I loved Fr. Brook.....eventually.
Very occasionally a parish goes a little off, kind of like sheep that have eaten fermented apples or bad herbs. In these cases the diocese in her kind wisdom sends in a shepherd who knows the value of a rod and staff and knows how to use them. Such was Fr. Brook.
He came to us and within a year of his coming the parish had regained its balance. He accomplished this as far as I could see mainly by three gifts that he had. First of all he was a tall man with a mane of blond hair and the face of an irritated Viking warrior. He never smiled that first year and he was a fearsome sight. This alone was enough to straighten up at least a third of the parish.
Secondly, he had a voice that was created by the dear Lord to boom orders over the roar of an angry sea. That moved a few more.
But for a considerable number the balance was reached during Lenten stations of the cross. For my dear non-Catholic friends I'll explain that the stations are a very old prayer from the first century of Christianity in which the followers of our Lord retraced the steps of His passion through the streets and hills of Jerusalem. During Lent we recreate this journey around the church interior. At least fourteen times during this prayer the priest genuflects and kneels at each station remembering the suffering of Jesus for our sake.
That first Friday of Fr. Brooks' first Lent at the parish we were all gathered in the darkened, silent church, conscious of our own sinfulness and the generous, painful sacrifice of Jesus. In the midst of this silence Fr. Brook genuflected at the first station. I was startled out of my meditations by the loud cracking and crunching of his knees. Clearly this was an old football player with some extensive damage to his knees and perhaps ankles and hips because it was almost impossible for that cacophony of bone on bone to be coming from just his knees. Startled, I peered at his face illuminated clearly by the candles held by the acolytes. Nothing. No expression at all. All around the church he proceeded, crunching and crackling and not a wince, not a groan. Nothing.
The news spread quickly and attendance at stations grew every week. There was no way any hearing human being could watch the solemn, stoic suffering of this giant in faith without shivers of admiration. He easily could have cut out the genuflection and replaced it with a profound bow (and sometimes my cowardly nature prayed ardently that he would) but he never did.
Week after week he suffered his way through the stations and as Lent progressed more and more of the parish cheered him on silently in our hearts. By Easter we were convinced that he was a hero of the faith and a much stronger individual that anybody we knew, inside or outside the parish.
Resistance to his uncompromising style crumbled like day old biscuits. Peace was restored and order reigned. Obedience without the loss of honor was not only possible - it was inevitable.
Friday, March 28, 2008
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
People I met on the path - Jimmy
My sister went to live in Chicago and there she met a homeless man who was begging. She is sometimes a little crusty with strangers but she loves God and so she follows the scripture "give to all who beg from you". As an actress she didn't make huge money but she gave what she could and over time she and Jimmy formed a friendship.
On one of my visits I met Jimmy and we spent some time in really good conversation. With what he had told me and with my sister's help we pieced together the story of his life in brief.
He had been a very bright boy, athletic and energetic. Became an airforce pilot and when he left the service went to work for TWA. Nice wife, nice house, nice kids. Little bit of a drinking problem that morphed into cocaine. Lost house, wife and kids. Hit the streets. Got AIDS.
During the long protracted suffering of his life he also found God, Who had not been a part of his life when everything looked rosy. He loved to hear about the Lord and he loved to talk about the Lord - something we had in common. In the little time I had with Jimmy he was a very good teacher for me.
The last time I saw him he was at the end in a VA hospital. He asked me if I had cigarettes and I said I did but there was no smoking there. He said to follow him - the nurses had shown him their spot. We had a smoke together and he was talking about the goodness of God in some real specific and beautiful ways and I said, "You are so good." Jimmy looked at me with that charming crooked smile of his but with a really penetrating look. He said, "Anne, I'm not good. I'm an addict. If I was able to be on the streets I'd be high right now. God doesn't love us because we're good. God loves us because HE'S good." Tears came to my eyes and we just stood there for a while in the presence of that profound, humble, powerful, joyful, merciful truth.
God be with you, Jimmy, and thanks for that gift that I have been able to share with so many others.
On one of my visits I met Jimmy and we spent some time in really good conversation. With what he had told me and with my sister's help we pieced together the story of his life in brief.
He had been a very bright boy, athletic and energetic. Became an airforce pilot and when he left the service went to work for TWA. Nice wife, nice house, nice kids. Little bit of a drinking problem that morphed into cocaine. Lost house, wife and kids. Hit the streets. Got AIDS.
During the long protracted suffering of his life he also found God, Who had not been a part of his life when everything looked rosy. He loved to hear about the Lord and he loved to talk about the Lord - something we had in common. In the little time I had with Jimmy he was a very good teacher for me.
The last time I saw him he was at the end in a VA hospital. He asked me if I had cigarettes and I said I did but there was no smoking there. He said to follow him - the nurses had shown him their spot. We had a smoke together and he was talking about the goodness of God in some real specific and beautiful ways and I said, "You are so good." Jimmy looked at me with that charming crooked smile of his but with a really penetrating look. He said, "Anne, I'm not good. I'm an addict. If I was able to be on the streets I'd be high right now. God doesn't love us because we're good. God loves us because HE'S good." Tears came to my eyes and we just stood there for a while in the presence of that profound, humble, powerful, joyful, merciful truth.
God be with you, Jimmy, and thanks for that gift that I have been able to share with so many others.
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Today seems like a pause in the Easter happenings. The Lord, our Jesus, our Saviour, is in the tomb and the Christian world awaits the great miracle of Resurrection. But what was happening then.
Everyone was in a state of depression and confusion. Like sheep without a shepherd, whose shepherd was in fact slaughtered, they faced a truly human defeat. In their eyes the great movement was dead with its leader and the enemies of Christ had won the day. Humanly thinking, how could someone so destroyed rise from death. Yes, He was God. But how could He forgive humanity who had so thoroughly rejected Him; and even further, why would He return to be with those who had lived and worked with Him, had witnessed up close the daily miraculous deeds He performed and yet, when the rubber hit the road, had run away and deserted him like cowards.
Yet, there was one who never failed Him. One who knew everything about Him. One who had stroked His silky head and watched Him as He slept; cuddled Him and healed His scraped knees and wiped His tears with total loving kindness. One who had kept Him clean, fed, clothed and loved and had stood with loyal supportive courage below His dying, dirty, naked, battered, despised body and with all her strength supported His work of that day, our redemption.
She, and she alone, waited through the night of Friday, the day of Saturday, the night of Saturday and the morning of Sunday, holding both her hands clutched around her faith, hope, and love. Waiting....waiting.....waiting with faith in God that this was not the end but the beginning, that she was not abandoned just temporarily separated. Waiting in hope that she would see her Son and her God again, healed, strong and victorious. Waiting in love that He would heal and strengthen the deserters and the fearful and that She would kiss a face that wasn't bruised, battered and cut; kiss a forehead that wasn't pierced with thorns.
Today, take a moment to thank the Immaculate for all she gave to God and to us on Holy Saturday.
Everyone was in a state of depression and confusion. Like sheep without a shepherd, whose shepherd was in fact slaughtered, they faced a truly human defeat. In their eyes the great movement was dead with its leader and the enemies of Christ had won the day. Humanly thinking, how could someone so destroyed rise from death. Yes, He was God. But how could He forgive humanity who had so thoroughly rejected Him; and even further, why would He return to be with those who had lived and worked with Him, had witnessed up close the daily miraculous deeds He performed and yet, when the rubber hit the road, had run away and deserted him like cowards.
Yet, there was one who never failed Him. One who knew everything about Him. One who had stroked His silky head and watched Him as He slept; cuddled Him and healed His scraped knees and wiped His tears with total loving kindness. One who had kept Him clean, fed, clothed and loved and had stood with loyal supportive courage below His dying, dirty, naked, battered, despised body and with all her strength supported His work of that day, our redemption.
She, and she alone, waited through the night of Friday, the day of Saturday, the night of Saturday and the morning of Sunday, holding both her hands clutched around her faith, hope, and love. Waiting....waiting.....waiting with faith in God that this was not the end but the beginning, that she was not abandoned just temporarily separated. Waiting in hope that she would see her Son and her God again, healed, strong and victorious. Waiting in love that He would heal and strengthen the deserters and the fearful and that She would kiss a face that wasn't bruised, battered and cut; kiss a forehead that wasn't pierced with thorns.
Today, take a moment to thank the Immaculate for all she gave to God and to us on Holy Saturday.
Friday, March 21, 2008
Good Friday
Today all the Christian world remembers the arrest, imprisonment, torture and death by public, legal execution of the only truly innocent man and incarnate God. We call this day "good".
When we see parents who don't spend their time, energy, money on providing fun, toys and games for themselves, but instead spend their lives for the growth and goodness of their children, we call them "good" parents.
Clearly, in both these cases, good refers to the fruit of an experience not the pleasure, fun or happiness of the experience.
Yet today the Christian world is suffering because of the widespread and growing heresy of prosperity doctrine. Many Christian denominations are propagating the teaching that those who follow Jesus are rewarded with peaceful, comfortable, safe lives. Many of these teachers and believers are in faiths that claim both literal and total reliance on the bible for their beliefs. But Jesus clearly tells those who follow Him that their lives will be filled with poverty, like His; financial and physical insecurity, like His; being misunderstood, misrepresented, put on trial, tortured and killed, like Him. Nowhere in the scriptures does Jesus say that following Him will be good for your business, real estate or property, status, popularity or looks.
If in fact you are blessed with prosperity the instruction and example of our loving and perfect teacher is to divest yourself as quickly as possible of your excess so as not to endanger your spiritual journey which is weighed down and obstructed by too much stuff. (Remember the eye of the needle). It is clear that the practicing Christian is to be a pipe of prosperity carrying God's blessing to our brothers and sisters.
Think for a moment of the Dead Sea or any marshy swampy place where the reek of dead vegetation makes it obnoxious to stay. These are places where the water flows in but there is no outlet. The area holds all the water for itself. A marsh with outflow is alive and fruitful and diverse. A lake with good outflow, like Galilee, is clean and beautiful and teaming with life. So are we intended to be.
The fruit of prosperity heresy is people who sit on their hoarde and get their only happiness by contemplating what they have that others do not. Sometimes they begin to see their own children as people who want to take their wealth. When someone they are attached to passes over to the real life, they feel that they have been unfairly treated, as if being a person of faith should mean that they never have to suffer sorrow or loss. They are lonely and miserable and miss out on the true freedom and joy that following Christs's way allows us to experience even here on this earth.
The good thing about identified heresy is that we can begin to examine how the error has intruded into our own thinking and start to root it out. The U.S. is ground where this heresy can easily take root. Keep a look out and weed it out before it gets a good start in your thinking.
When we see parents who don't spend their time, energy, money on providing fun, toys and games for themselves, but instead spend their lives for the growth and goodness of their children, we call them "good" parents.
Clearly, in both these cases, good refers to the fruit of an experience not the pleasure, fun or happiness of the experience.
Yet today the Christian world is suffering because of the widespread and growing heresy of prosperity doctrine. Many Christian denominations are propagating the teaching that those who follow Jesus are rewarded with peaceful, comfortable, safe lives. Many of these teachers and believers are in faiths that claim both literal and total reliance on the bible for their beliefs. But Jesus clearly tells those who follow Him that their lives will be filled with poverty, like His; financial and physical insecurity, like His; being misunderstood, misrepresented, put on trial, tortured and killed, like Him. Nowhere in the scriptures does Jesus say that following Him will be good for your business, real estate or property, status, popularity or looks.
If in fact you are blessed with prosperity the instruction and example of our loving and perfect teacher is to divest yourself as quickly as possible of your excess so as not to endanger your spiritual journey which is weighed down and obstructed by too much stuff. (Remember the eye of the needle). It is clear that the practicing Christian is to be a pipe of prosperity carrying God's blessing to our brothers and sisters.
Think for a moment of the Dead Sea or any marshy swampy place where the reek of dead vegetation makes it obnoxious to stay. These are places where the water flows in but there is no outlet. The area holds all the water for itself. A marsh with outflow is alive and fruitful and diverse. A lake with good outflow, like Galilee, is clean and beautiful and teaming with life. So are we intended to be.
The fruit of prosperity heresy is people who sit on their hoarde and get their only happiness by contemplating what they have that others do not. Sometimes they begin to see their own children as people who want to take their wealth. When someone they are attached to passes over to the real life, they feel that they have been unfairly treated, as if being a person of faith should mean that they never have to suffer sorrow or loss. They are lonely and miserable and miss out on the true freedom and joy that following Christs's way allows us to experience even here on this earth.
The good thing about identified heresy is that we can begin to examine how the error has intruded into our own thinking and start to root it out. The U.S. is ground where this heresy can easily take root. Keep a look out and weed it out before it gets a good start in your thinking.
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