Pandemonium & Peace

Noise: so much, too much

Life's chaos drowning my soul

Then a glimpse, stillness

Togetherness

For better or ill

Souls demand companionship

Like Parent, like child

Incarnation

What is born today?

Are you sure you want to look?

Laugh, O foolish Truth!

The Light at the End of the Tunnel

All hail The Vaccine!

The Smart People have triumphed!

Sister Death grinning

Risk & Reward

Danger all around

Death's arrival guaranteed

Still, I awaken

Elections

"Vote for me!", they shriek

Our hungry, hungry hippos

Mountains see and sing

Unconditional Love

My earliest memory is of my grandmother, Cecelia Katherine Holmes, walking me home from my first day of kindergarten. Almost twenty years later, I had the honor of delivering the eulogy at her funeral. And today, on the twenty-fifth anniversary of her death, I share those words with you, that the grace she embodied might continue to live.

Who was Kay Holmes?

I could say all the usual things that you see in the obituaries, but she was so much more than that. At her very essence she was love. Her entire being, personality, mannerisms; everything resonated with love. And not just any love, but the kind of unconditional love that you rarely see.

Kay was the kind of person who made everyone feel like family. She lived it with her sisters. She instilled it in her children and grandchildren. She became part of her in-laws families, to the point that they considered her “Grandma” as much as we did. She gave it to her tenants and everyone else she came into contact with. She even talked about the announcers on the Home Shopping Channel like her kids.

That was the other remarkable thing about Kay, her ability for storytelling. She kept everyone connected, because whenever you talked to her, she would go on and on about everyone else in the family. She loved to tell you everything she could about what her kids and grandkids were doing. She loved to talk about all the people she had come into contact with that day.

But as much as she talked, she also loved to listen. She wouldn’t give advice, she’d just take her time and listen. She had a spirit so gentle, patient, and tolerant, that you felt safe with her. She could be your grandma one minute and your best friend the next.

I think one anecdote from the past few days sums up who Kay was. As the mortuary workers were about to take her out of the apartment, her canary, who had been completely silent up until then, broke out into this amazingly beautiful song. You can call it coincidence, animal instinct, or whatever you like, but we all know the truth. God sang to her and to us through that canary; praising her for a life well lived and telling us to be proud of all that she was and all that she gave. She was God’s unconditional love here on earth and she gave it every day of her life.

That was who Kay Holmes was.

And it is entirely fitting that she died on the Solemnity of All Saints.

I miss Grandma Kay, but I know that I will see her again someday. Until then, I strive to be a man of whom she will be proud; for that is the true definition of success.

Past & Present

Yesterday

and today,

how should we judge?

Eyes locked in

upon sin

or grace?

We are creatures of both,

for better

and worse.

So let us remember the bad,

but raise a glass

to the good.

These prophets of wokism

who defenestrate

with glee,

Can turn heroes

into villains

'til the cows come home.

But they cannot alter

your relationship

to we,

For you are

forever and always

our sibling.

Ineffable Goodness

"Who are You, my dearest God?

And what am I but Your useless servant."

~ Francis of Assisi

Argle and bargle

Fumbling from my fingers

Something wonderful

Earth

Never, ever ours,

this little rock

amongst the stars.

Yet still,

we huff and puff,

and stake our claims.

Who arrived first?

Who signed the deed?

Who has the power now?

Not human feet,

nor human hands,

nor even human minds.

How many came before?

And how many shall follow?

All for the mere blink of an eye.

Were they too

arrogant, reckless fools,

with presumptions of mastery?

Did they too

fail to truly comprehend

the grace bequeathed unto them?

Not owners,

just lucky tenants,

of a Landlord most divine.

No, never ours,

O little rock

amongst the stars.

Identity

What

do you see

as your gaze

lingers upon me?

For I am more

than packaging and labels,

and the assumptions

that go with them.

I am more,

so much more:

heart and soul,

foulness and beauty,

and all the grace

that goes with them.

So whom

will you choose to see

as your gaze

lingers upon me?

Control

Each time

I proclaim

myself

Master of my destiny,

Ruler of my universe,

You just laugh,

and laugh,

and laugh.

O vexatious Truth of truths,

O unwelcome Reality of realities,

bend me to Your will.

Bumblebees

Speak up! Act up! NOW!

Brainbound bumblebees buzzing

Be still! Stars emerge

Human Nature

Brutal and beautiful are we.
And try though we might,
they refuse to be divorced.

Oh, what to do, what to do:
bury our heads in the sandbox,
or embrace the paradox?

Obedience

"Eat the pork," says the world.

"Everyone does it.

It's what we do.

Eat the pork.

Why be so obstinate?

Do you not know the cost?

Just eat the pork.

Why sacrifice over a triviality?

No one will know.

No one will care.

Just eat the damn pork!"

Seventy-seven years ago, Franz Jägerstätter refused to "eat the pork" and was martyred by the Nazis. Those who killed him likely called him a fool, whom they were relegating to the dustbin of history. But now, seventy-seven years later, the Church calls him Blessed, and his story is told on the silver screen. It is the story of a man who recognized that our Parent's will is never trivial, and always worth the cost. The whims of human power may never understand that truth, but we do. And we choose to remember.

Brother Franz, pray for us!

Might's Folly

Light of Light rising
Dragging us down to Darkness
Fragrant blossoms sing

O blessed Dead
of Hiroshima and Nagasaki,
forgive us,
pray for us.

Vision

Behold
the object
of your scorn.

Can you not see
the face
of your sibling?

My Cross

"All that I have hitherto written
seems to me nothing but straw."

~ Thomas Aquinas

Babble and drivel
Words cannot touch such Wonder
Must tell Their story

Sister Koko

This Friday is the anniversary of the death of Hanabi-Ko, "Fireworks Child"; known to the world as Koko. Like most, her life was a mixture of both delight and pain. She expressed serious thoughts, on mortality and existence for example, as well as petty ones, such as lies or anger. She became infatuated with colleagues, and mourned a beloved pet. Koko was an attentive listener and a good friend. And yes, she was also a gorilla.

I have long been fascinated by the implications of Koko's story. Was she truly conscious? Could she love? Did she have a soul? Was she a glimpse into our past, or a harbinger of our family's expansion? Dr. Penny Patterson, the psychologist who taught and cared for her, once asked Koko, "Do gorillas know things that people don't?" How much wisdom is out there in the wild, awaiting our acceptance of its keepers as our equals?

Koko and her kin are evidence of the falsity of anthropocentrism. We humans are not the apex of creation or evolution. Our Parent has birthed countless sisters and brothers; and not just on one little rock in the universe. Abandon your fear, and open your hearts to this strange and wonderful reality. For as Dr. Patterson declared about gorillas, so it must be said of all created beings, "If there's anything sacred in us, it's in them, too."

E Pluribus Unum

Out of many, one. We Americans are called to be a sacred people, a manifestation of the family to which all humans belong. A heavy cross, for sure, but ours nonetheless.

I understand that it is hard to recognize such duty in the midst of these days of rage. We seem hell-bent on dividing one another into two camps: the children of light on one side, and the children of darkness on the other; or vice versa, depending on your point of view. In such an atmosphere, hatred and vengeance can feel righteous. But it is precisely now, when we appear most divided, that we must return to our sacred task. The truest way we can honor George Floyd, Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor, and all of their companions is to actively strive to become the people our Parent is calling us to be.

Let us begin by recalling the admonition of our Brother: love your enemies. Listen to the voices with whom you most differ; not just with your ears, but with your heart; and not to change your mind, but to understand the soul of that other. Why does he think this? Why does she feel that? The goal here is not to appreciate their perspective, but to genuinely see life through their eyes. It is about moving from enmity to sympathy to empathy, then allowing that vision to carry you onward to friendship and family.

This path, however, will not eradicate injustice. As long as we are human, our lusts and fears will spawn viruses of the heart and soul. And as long as our skin comes in a variety of shades, racism will be among them. We can never remove the viruses completely, but we can alleviate their symptoms. And to do that, we must come to know one another as friends, as family. Siblings can fight viciously, but they also have a way to navigate out of conflict, because the bonds of family cannot be permanently severed.

Now, nowhere in this post have I mentioned the state, for this is not their project. Human institutions will always be corrupt and abusive, for they cannot escape the arrogance and greed of their builders and keepers. Friendship can mitigate such failures, more soundly than the reforms or rebellions of the smart people and their smart ideas, but nothing can eliminate them. We are forever sinful and fallible, as are the works of our hands.

Fortunately, our cross does not belong to that category. Will you help carry it? If so, then let this be our cause: to see the other, every other, not as a threat, but as a sibling whose story we have yet to learn. An impossible task, for sure, but do not allow reality to hinder the attempt. This is about family, after all. And you never quit on family.

Unconquerable Joy

My freshman year of college, one of our dormmates delivered the same line every single day when asked how he was: "Better than ever!" Perhaps life truly was that good to him, but none of us believed so. We saw his words, and the stupid smile which accompanied them, as a performance. Maybe he was trying to impress us. Maybe he was a devotee of the cult of positive thinking. Either way, Happy Guy's greeting came across as fake. And whenever I consider the nature of happiness, his is the first voice I hear.

Wealth. Power. Fame. Security. Amusement. The world wants us to be happy, and it has taught us that these are the quickest paths to the prize. Unfortunately, the only reward to be found at the end of those rainbows is a cheap high. The exhilaration might be superb, but it always ends too soon; leaving you desperate for another fix. Happiness is fleeting, and the perfect gift for a fickle master to dispense to its loyal subjects.

Our Parent, on the other hand, desires something very different for us. Something messy and disturbing; where doubt, pain, and fear walk hand in hand with faith, hope, and love. They show us the cross, then ask us to carry it with Them to places unknown, no matter the cost. And if you say yes, you will taste and feel something wonderful, something that might occasionally resemble happiness, but only from a distance. You will know deep in your heart and soul that you are walking the road They created you to walk. In short, you will know joy. And nothing will ever be the same again. Alleluia! Alleluia!

Unintended Consequences

Shelter-in-place. Quarantine. Lockdown. Whatever the name, we are enduring this time of isolation for the sake of our brothers and sisters. And it is working! We are slowing the spread and flattening the curve. Our sacrifice is undoubtedly saving lives.

But what about the collateral damage of our pandemic response? How many siblings will succumb to treatable illnesses, because they are afraid to go to a hospital? How many siblings will be drawn to suicide, because this is the straw that breaks the camel's back? How many siblings will be pushed into starvation, because they lack the basic resources needed to survive an economic shutdown? When all this is over, and the balance sheets have been tallied, will the cure have been worse than the disease?

Every human intervention comes with a cost. And too often, we leap into action without considering the nature of that price or whether it is worth paying. This is partly due to our overly exuberant faith in the power of smart people and smart ideas. It is also, however, the product of our tendency to value some siblings more than others.

Should we have acted differently? Probably not. We did what we had to do to rescue the siblings in front of our faces. But when that new day dawns, which it inevitably will, let us temper our celebrations with a bit of melancholy; for our victory shall come, as they often do, with a horrid price tag. And when the next enemy appears on the horizon, which they inevitably will, let us put on the armor of humility before we run off to battle.

The Noble Path

In the pre-virus era, local animal-rights activists held weekly demonstrations at the gates of a Los Angeles slaughterhouse. They gathered not to seek the factory's closure, but to love those who would die within its walls. As one participant said, "Even though we're not going to save one single pig, what we can offer for just a second is basic decency for a living being." This, my friends, is living in the kingdom.

Acknowledging the strange and the different as your brothers and sisters. Loving those neighbors fervently, without chasing utopian fantasies. Planting seeds of grace, trusting our Parent to use them however They will. And embracing the delicious paradoxes which ensue along the way. This is the path we are called to travel.

Now, to live in the kingdom is a hard and confusing task. Seeing beauty in the ugliness of life. Accepting uncertainty as a gift. Such traits do not come naturally, but neither are they reserved to the few or the special. Every soul is capable of the journey; all that is necessary is a heart foolish enough to desire it. And for those who manage to summon up the courage, a universe of unquenchable joy awaits.

The Great Game

Biden or Trump. For the next six months, a cacophony of voices will loudly demand that we pick one, while ominously predicting chaos and tribulation should the wrong man be elected. Such cheerleaders are fools, who have far too much confidence in the efficacy of smart people and smart ideas. And we shall become even bigger fools, if we choose to drink the Kool-Aid they are selling.

Once upon a time, our Brother counseled us to "repay to Caesar what belongs to Caesar and to God what belongs to God." These words are a reminder that our leaders are not divine, the state is not a source of grace, and both are players in a contest of power, not love. Sometimes the competition brings nice toys to the people, and sometimes it leaves them with a stocking full of coal. Politics is a useful tool for building human fiefdoms, but a piss-poor one when it comes to living in the kingdom.

Be that as it may, it is our civic duty to participate in the game. So let us perform the task wisely, refusing to turn it into something greater than it actually is. If you trust Biden or Trump to advance the common good, give him your support. If someone else, someone guaranteed to lose, has earned your respect, do not be afraid to vote your conscience. Always remember, the kingdom is here and now: yesterday, today, and tomorrow. And nothing that happens in November can alter that reality.

Holy Demolition

Death and resurrection: The sacred path by which our Parent bestows mercy upon their creation. One thing is destroyed, and something else rises in its place. The extinction of the dinosaurs. The great flood of Noah. Countless plagues, wars, and natural disasters. A dance of destruction and rebirth, over and over again, never to end.

And it does no good to fear one and love the other; they are a package deal. Everything dies: the birds in the sky and the lilies of the field; prey and predators; you, me, and the works of human hands. It all comes tumbling down eventually, to become foundation or fertilizer for the next thing. We have found the mythical phoenix, and it is us!

So what shall rise from our present plague? The politicians and pundits are quick with a prediction, or at least a fantasy. The truth, however, is that we cannot know from this end of the story. Those twists and turns that lie in store for our children are a mystery. And let us be glad, for mercy is ever so delightful when it takes on a surprising form.

Now, none of this absolves us of our duty to love our neighbors as best we can. Yes, life always finds a way, to emerge and to thrive. But it matters whether that happens with our assistance, or in spite of our opposition. Do you strive for the common good, or just your own? Be honest, for our Parent already knows, and so do your siblings.

At the end of the day, divine will is in the open for all to see, leaving us with a choice: Do we accept it and cooperate with its unfolding? Or do we rage against it, living out a pipe dream of human mastery of the universe? Either way, death will come, and resurrection will follow. May your heart come to recognize the wondrous mercy of both.

Ordinary Saints

My favorite part of the Easter Vigil liturgy is the singing of the Litany of the Saints. Sadly, due to the postponement of baptisms and confirmations, this melody was confined to my heart and soul this year. On the upside, adding some "unofficial" saints to the roster was much easier than normal. I have written elsewhere about my friend, Fr. Greg Coiro, and my cousin, Nicole Bidwell. And now, it is my duty and privilege to introduce you to a few other departed companions: Kevin and Donna Huckaby, and Roger Scoggins.

Donna hired me to teach religion at St. Francis High School, and became my mentor and friend. She was the epitome of what Catholic education should stand for: God and grace first, everything else second. Such a vision ruffled certain feathers, but also touched and transformed many lives. Donna loved us, students and staff alike, and strove each day to help us become the people whom God created us to be; most powerfully, by sharing the story of her son, Kevin, on the quarterly senior class retreats, known as Kairos.

Kevin developed a seizure disorder while still a toddler. Doctors predicted a terribly short lifespan, but he bested that by nearly fifty years. Donna would recount harrowing tales of hospital visits and dark nights of the soul, alongside joyful ones about a man whose mind never outgrew the unconditional love of a child. She spoke of the power of friendship and the necessity of forgiveness, especially of oneself; lessons that Kevin taught her over the decades. As an adult, he resided in group homes nearby to where my wife and I live, so we had the good fortune of spending time with him. He loved the Beach Boys, and Mary Poppins, and eating at IHOP. He couldn't talk or walk very well, but he sang gleefully and moved faster than you expected. And when Kevin smiled, you smiled back.

Eventually, however, illness and seizures got the upper hand, and death came for Kevin in October of 2018. Donna had already been struggling with dementia, but went downhill quickly after this and died last year, just after Christmas. I suppose her soul couldn't bear the separation. Several years ago, I took a photo of the two of them in the park, walking hand-in-hand. That is how I see them now: mother and son, together, forever.

In the intervening years, I left St. Francis, took time off to write, then found a support staff job at a public middle school, which is where I met my friend Roger.

Roger was the school's head custodian. The world might sniff at that job title, but no one who ever knew him would. He was the hardest worker on campus, bar none. That alone would merit respect, but he gave a lot more of himself than just time and energy. Like all such people, his generosity was often taken advantage of; but he refused to allow that to make him less kind or joyful. He shared his friendship abundantly and broadly, but had a special fondness for the "special needs" students, who returned his affection with gusto. Roger was a true gentle-man, strong and tough, yet unashamed of saying "I love you" to his friends; and unquestionably, one of the finest men I have had the honor to know. He died just a few weeks ago, appropriately enough, on Valentine's Day.

Now, don't get me wrong, these were not perfect people. Kevin could be moody, even to the point of violence in his later years. (Some of his caregivers said, jokingly or not, that he had finally entered adolescence!) And Donna was so focused on him that, by her own admission, she neglected her other children at various times. Which brings us to Roger, whose stubbornness kept him from addressing his health issues until it was too late. No, these were not perfect people. But they were good people, who loved their brothers and sisters, and did their very best to serve the One who is parent of us all.

And here's the best news: they are not alone. The key theme of Kairos was, "If you want to find God, don't look up, look around." An assertion that the Divine Presence lies within each one of us, ready to be shared with the world like living sacraments. Not all of us, of course, are willing to tap into such grace. There are some, however, who are unafraid to walk in friendship with Love and Love's Author. They rarely make the news. Nor are they mourned by millions. But they are the salt and sparkle of our world. And I give thanks for all of them, especially the ones whom I have been blessed to know.

My sisters and brothers, Nicole, Greg, Kevin, Donna, Roger, and all the ordinary saints who toil in anonymity for the sake of faith, hope, and love, pray for us!

The Great Why

Why? How many of our prayers boil down to that single word? Why am I here? Why do You let me suffer? Why must I die? Why? Why? Why?

We want answers, yes. But more importantly, we want to find a sense of order within the chaos. We want to know that the events of our lives, the events of history, have meaning and purpose. Because our great fear is that all of this is nothing more than a collection of random and capricious moments. Unfortunately, Truth is not our friend here.

For the vision we seek cannot be seen from our perspective. Your life is a single piece in an immeasurable jigsaw puzzle. Are you a key part of the image, or one of the multitude of background elements? Will your neighbors snap into place tomorrow, or in a thousand centuries? Is the ultimate point of your life a forgettable interaction that shapes someone else into that essential piece? You will never know, not now at least.

So if we cannot know, then our choice is whether or not to trust. Trust that our Parent did not create us by accident. Trust that our crosses will carry us where we need to go. Trust that lives cut too short, by virus or firearm, do have meaning and purpose. Trust that one day we will see the big picture and come to know what all the fuss was about.

And when that day dawns, the puzzle spread before us, and we finally grasp our place in this most magnificent tapestry, the very last thing on your mind will be "why".

Strange Grace

These are strange times indeed, all thanks to a microscopic virus. Panic and pushback; anxiety and boredom; our world upended on a daily hourly basis. And in the background, Sister Death lurks much closer than normal. We would be fools not to tremble with fear; and even bigger fools to ignore the opportunity which lies before us.

In making the latter statement, please do not mistake me for one of the many politicians and ideologues now drooling over the possibilities of enacting their agendas. Yes, those kinds of opportunities are present in a crisis, but so is the chance for transformation of a more profound sort: to see Truth as it really is and to live accordingly.

Our existence on this little rock in the universe is nothing short of extraordinary. We are surrounded by the most majestic acts of creation, from towering mountains to a grain of sand. Just look at the world that exists in the smallest garden! This is our family. This is the kingdom. We have the honor of being a part of something wonderful.

And most of the time, we ignore such truths in favor of the rat race we think of as reality. We spend our days fighting over petty fiefdoms; using and abusing our siblings as if they were commodities; believing ourselves to be the masters of destiny. And then a tiny virus comes along, and forces a choice: tighten the mask or open your eyes.

Unfortunately, most of us will choose door number one. We will place our hope in smart people and smart ideas, and the fleeting salvation that such faux saviors bring. Perhaps our trust will be rewarded with a cure and a return to normality. And perhaps we will find ourselves desolated, begging for smarter people and smarter ideas.

Would the ultimate outcome change if more of us chose door number two? Probably not. Suffering and death is our lot in life. So what is the point of looking? Nothing, to the gods of power and success that most of us worship. But to our Parent, to the One who painted us into this glorious canvas, Their vision is the supreme gift.

For that is what you will find behind door number two: the grace of beholding this life, this cosmos, your brothers and sisters, human and beyond, past, present, and future through the eyes of They who created it all in the first place. And once you look, you will never be able to turn away, even after the sheer beauty drives you insane.

Which is why most of us choose door number one. Who wants to love their enemies, let alone embrace the cross upon which they will nail you? Who wants to make servanthood their fondest dream, and to aspire to be a useless one at that? Who wants to be a failure at the very things to which your heart and soul are calling you to do?

Crazy, bonkers, nuts; and more True and Real than anyone cares to admit. Neither fame nor riches will prevent you from becoming worm food. The smart people with their smart ideas cannot take their power with them. And even our grand civilization will one day go the way of the dinosaurs. Suffering and death is our lot in life, all of us.

So if our fate is to suffer and die, let us do so with clear eyes and full hearts, living in the truth of who we are and why we are here, and eagerly welcoming grace in whatever form it might choose to manifest, even as a pandemic. Yes, ours is a strange Parent, who has gifted us with a strange home. Let us give thanks for both, always.