no accident

The airbag explosion was loud and unnerving. Combined with the concussive sound of the impact, everyone on the crowded sidewalk turned to look. A slow moving truck stopped short and the vehicle following too closely behind couldn't maneuver quick enough. With shattered glass and twisted metal everywhere, I hesitantly approached. But what could I do? I let the critical moment slip by and didn't get involved. 

That's the case with much of our lives. We let other people handle it, or, more often than not, allow our selfish concerns to take precedence. Who are we today and where is our moral fiber? What are the principles we stand up for and how do we show what we truly believe in? When will we get involved and not let go of our convictions that love, justice, and freedom is more than a dream of how things could - or should - be?

It's all too familiar - like today's reading of Jesus' triumphal entry into Jerusalem and impending demise - we hear it all too often. We have good, noble, and appropriate intentions, but when the tires hit the road and we're called to stand up for what is right and for what we believe in, we remain gap-mouthed and staring spectators, not making an impact.

Often, we are like Peter, who lacks the courage to be steadfast and denies his faith;

Like James and John, who give in to their earthly emotions and can't get involved;

Even the authorities, who yearn for the passionate violence of Barabbas instead of the quiet peace of Christ, remain on the sidelines.

Sometimes, we are like Simon - who is coerced to be an accomplice; Or the soldiers - who are just following orders; And those crucified alongside him - who can see no active power in love. We have all been there.

Perhaps we are like Mary - who is a powerless bystander; Or like Pilot - who has no resolve for justice. Each and every one of us is like Judas - though we swear that we could never be the cause of such destruction. Yet, we are all in the crowd - as we yell, "Crucify him" - not just today, but every day, causing a major slowdown on the road to earthly divinity.

We are crucifying our values by not being present, not preparing the way, by not being true to our heart's desire. We bring an early and undeserving death by denying our inner spirit, by deserting that which we love, and choosing a more convenient way. Palm Sunday, like every story we read in the gospels, is not an historic - once in a lifetime, now it's over, event. Palm Sunday is a collision with today, yesterday, and tomorrow. It is every Sunday, and every Sunday is every day. Are you comfortable on the sidewalk, or will you be the driver in the story of life and stand up for love, compassion and humility. It's no accident, you have to make it happen.

love, always,

pia

god given

God so loved the world that he gave us - something beyond ourselves - something we don't have, something we need. This oft-quoted verse is an exclusive declaration which seems to promote a tome of helplessness and removal. I have a hard time subscribing to it because I know there's something more.

For god so loved the world that he gave us - something with true power - something within ourselves. He gave us light and life; bringing tangible stardust to manifest in the birth of creation. We are truly given an all-together-now vesture of grace to enable life.

Yes we were given a precious life, but it is up to us. It is we who give the eternal life now. In revealing our salvation, in our hopes and dreams, we bring light and life to the world. This is why we are here. For we are made by and for the divine and we are given for the spirit of life.

We can affirm this inheritance, claiming the presence of our relationship as sons and daughters of creation. Or shall we let love wither, disowning and condemning the world? In a way, this is what Jesus asks in today's gospel: Do we remember what we are entrusted with? Can you believe that you make a difference

and give life to the world?

As a volunteer for HeadCount, I endeavor to register voters, not for any party, not for any cause, but so each and every one of us can make a difference. Yet, I am so often dismayed with the disaffected. Those who deny their authority, who cling to a perverse selfishness. They skulk in the shadows of their "I do not matter," asserting there is inconsequence of their acedia.

But ennui is the darkness Christ warns us of. A careless evil inflicted by averted eyes. No light shines from this empty hope. Mine is neither optimism nor pessimism, it is simply conviction of life; a life given to us to fully and freely live.

But the disaffected say, "I am but one, what can I do? Does it really matter if I remain on the side?" The choice to say yes or no is our freedom to belong to life. The indecisive have no place to stand. How can you love if you don't participate. Apathy has no voice but is a smug defiance of our inherent power. Can the mute dare share in the success of hope?

You are the one life is challenging to do something - for someone - be it yourself or another. You have it within you. You don't need to look for it somewhere else. Give your god-given being to light the world, for god so made the world for love and this love will make a difference.

love, always,

pia

Jesus was a bike mechanic

Yesterday while installing some new fenders on my bicycle, I ran into a minor difficulty. I thought I had all the tools necessary, but not realizing I would have to remove the rear rack first, I was short one precious instrument. It wouldn't have been a problem if I was at home - for I have a fairly deep set of bike-specific tools there - but I was at my office where only architectural modeling accouterments are found. A #10 metric box wrench was what I needed but where would I find one? It seemed that my project would have to wait for another day. However, searching the model shop I came across a 3/8" wrench. It wasn't quite right, but perhaps I could make it work.

This is the situation in today's gospel reading. We find Jesus coming to the Jerusalem temple and he finds the merchants using the wrong wrench for the job. At the bike shop it is imperative to use the correct tool to get the job done right and we're adamant that mechanics be good stewards of the resources. If you use a #10  spanner instead of a #10 wrench, although they are the same size, you're liable to ruin it. It's just not made to do that work. So it's no wonder the Christ is furious when he sees the vendors extorting the pilgrims. The cattle, sheep, and doves sold for sacrifice are not the appropriate means to worship god.

God doesn't need our sacrifices - only a sacrifice of love. The divine cannot be bought - neither with money nor goods - but we act as if money can buy us healing, love, and relationships. And that's what drives Jesus crazy, so he drives a wrench into their works. He knows it's not the right tool for the job.

Approaching the bike, I too thought, "No, this isn't right," and pressed to locate the appropriate tool. Eventually I found one, and with the right tool in hand, the work was completed easily and successfully. The right tool for the job is love. We are made for love just like that nut securing my rack was made for a #10 wrench. The wrong one always brings us to ruin. Listen to Jesus, he was a pretty good wrench monkey, he knows that love is what it takes.

love, always,

pia

Looking at the stars

Not too long ago I placed an ad looking for a roommate. Of the many responses I received, some I asked to come for a showing and an interview, and others I merely thanked for their interest. Typically, half of the respondees are out-of-state young men or women who desire to move to the area. Although some have employment lined up, there are others who assure me that they'll figure something out after they arrive. They don't know exactly why they are drawn here, but deep down there's a hope, a longing, to fill the emptiness in their heart. It's admirable, taking that leap of faith, and much like Oscar Wilde's quip, "We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars." Perhaps I could be more trusting, but I prefer to have something a bit more reliable.

But I know what it's like. When I met Theophane the monk, it was love at first sight. Immediately I knew that I wanted to be a Religious. It took a few years of discernment before I embarked on the journey, but it was a purpose to which I was called. I thought my life issues were finally resolved, so I left everything to give everything that I had.

It was like that for Jesus. We read today that for some reason he leaves his home and makes his way to the Jordan River. He's baptized by John, and the Spirit propels him on his life-long mission. "The time is fulfilled," he tells us, and life - his, and ours - was never the same.

We recognize these times as life-changing events - a once-in-a-lifetime dream come true. But it's not like that at all. In reality, every moment is life-changing. I pondered this last night while on an evening's stroll. While looking at the waxing crescent moon in the western sky, I wondered about the planet that trailed closely by. Venus, the Roman god associated with love, shown ever-so brightly with Jupiter at a distance. Tonight, the planets reverse. Jupiter, the god of the sky, overtakes her. I then thought about the political world where Christ overtook Jupiter as the principal deity of the Imperial world. I was reminded how things change, and as such, we never live happily ever after. We my be lost. We figure it out and try our passion. Then change occurs and we must discern again. When I  got home, I watched a favorite movie, "The Singing Nun," and felt the yearning for the Convent overtake me once again.

When we give our lives fully to our purpose, just as the Christ gave his in every way and in every situation, this is a self-emptying kenosis. It is no longer I who live, says Paul to the Church in Galatia, but it is Christ who lives in me." This is the spirit of love that fills us. The divine love which we are ultimately called to be for others and for ourselves. Do we have a plan or are we going where the stars lead us? It's not always easy to discern, but if we follow the faint stirrings of our heart, we may find that we are inching closer and closer to god.

love, always,

pia

begin the begin

Before processing into the Church, the choir master asks, "All those who are not here, raise your hand." It always invokes a few smiles and more than a couple of hands waving from those willing to play along with the joke. But the meaning is serious: Are we really here, not just physically, but emotionally. Are we prepared to do the things that need to be done, to put our voice into our song, to lay life on the line.

That's what it's all about: The Hokey-Pokey trivialities that demand our awareness. Are we willing to take charge and claim responsibility for our actions, or do we persistently deflect accountability and acquiesce to circumstance. One thing is clear; the endless dance presents countless opportunities to put your left foot in, or out. We decide how to play the game.

We are forever being called to begin over and over. How will we respond? Are we ready to catch it or shall it pass without regard? In "Begin the Begin," rock icon, Michael Stipe of R.E.M., sang, "Birdie in the hand / for life's rich demand / The insurgency began / and you missed it."  We may not realize it, but every moment requires a response that is either life-affirming or -denying. The choice is ours. Shall we be mindful enough to take hold of life?

Perhaps this is what the gospel is exhorting us to this morning. Jesus is confronted with a solicitous invalid begging for a chance to begin again. The divine, recognizing his determination, scandalously reaches out to him. Because he denies his limitations and asks, he is given an opportunity.

As the choir lines up before the service we are given our chance. On the wall outside the choir master's office, there is a quote from Goethe which reads, "There is one elementary truth, the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: That the moment one definitely commits oneself, Providence moves too…Whatever you can do, begin it. Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it. Begin it now." There is no other time than now to change your life, and impact another's, forever.

love, always,

pia

bring help

Do you remember the movie "Walkabout"? I haven't seen it since it first came out 40 years ago, but recently I endeavored to watch it again. As a child it was profoundly stunning and at the same time, terrifying. Yet this time it was just as memorable although in a different manner.

The movie is about two children abandoned in the Australian outback and their eventual rescue by an Aborigine boy who is on his walkabout - his 6 month coming of age initiation into manhood, surviving, or not, by his own skills alone. It is a wonderful movie containing breathtaking landscapes with a deep sociological message as well - far beyond the theme of being lost and getting found.

The unnamed children - all the better to make this a universal epic - are twelve and five years of age. At first the young boy fails to grasp the seriousness of their plight. But after wandering helplessly in the desert, long days scrambling up craggy mountains and down sand dunes, enduring the brutal environment, his "are we there yet?" supplications overwhelm him. He soon tires and surrenders to the elements, only saved by his older sister who persuades him to press on. It is a metaphor for life - a spiritual journey of determination through predicament.

But there comes a point when adversity is too much. Life is arduous, and like the young boy, we desire a respite from its trials. The exhausted pair soon choose to prepare for their end beneath a solitary tree - they have done all they could on their own. They intend to let life take them instead of taking hold of life. It is then that a strange outsider comes to bring salvation.

In today's gospel, the Christ comes to the aid of Peter's mother-in-law in much the same fashion. She is lost in a sickness - perhaps desperately heartbroken for her daughter who has lost her husband to a disparaged, mendicant rabbi. She is healed by this strange outsider, and subsequently, so too are the countless others who are drawn by his magnificent powers. The story could end happily ever after here, but that's not the critical message being conveyed. For the gospel implies that the healing is not where salvation begins. Upon entering new life we are compelled to action. The cure to Peter's mother-in-law's ailment is to get up and serve the rabble who have gathered to gawk. Likewise, Jesus suggests there is more to do. He promptly leaves the scene of his glory, seeking to bring the neighboring towns the miracle cure of a new and better way of life.

He could have stayed in Capurnaum. He was a hero, worshipped and adored for his regenerative acts. But although it is nice to garner praise and admiration, there is no resting on where we've been - for we cannot live in the past - we must press on to the end. Taking Peter's mother-in-law as an example, the gospel tells us that we must get up and serve, continuing beyond the safety and security of our accomplishments. This is the epitome of the boddhisattva's vow.

Walkabout, however, concludes on a less then triumphal hope of salvation. Rather it is the nihilistic longing of a past that continues to dominate our lives. This is not the archetypical "hero's journey." The protagonists may have returned from their mythic adventure, but have failed to grasp, nor can share, the import. The children use the help given to them for their own purposes neglecting those around them - especially their savior - ignoring the larger social concern. It is a bleak commentary on the society at large. But neither can the Aboriginal boy return to his civilization. All remain forever lost in an alien world. In the end we learn that to find the help we need, we must bring it to others.

love, always,

pia

re-gifting

With a deft swipe of the hand, the young man attacked the pile of colorful Dum Dum lollypops splayed about the tiny table. Before one could utter, "Please, take one," or "You're welcome," he was off, lost in the netherworld of the dark club. My cohort planted them as an inducement for people to stop. If we were lucky, someone with a sweet-tooth might engage us for one, and as devoted HeadCount volunteers, we would entreat the supplicant to register to vote. Whether they said they were already registered or not made no difference, all were welcome to our sugary snare. We had nothing else to lure a frightfully indifferent crowd - no concert poster or CD from the headliner to give away, no interesting contest or survey to comply - just our voter registration forms and our candy. That would have to serve as gift enough.

But it was a slow night. Prevented from canvassing the crowd, we camped out by our table hoping that our treats would entice the passersby. By night's end I had signed up a meager half dozen new voters while giving away scores of lollypops. Not terribly successful, but perhaps one that will make a small difference in a divisive and disengaged culture. 

Yet perhaps our offering was not the true gift. For a selfless gift is something given without anticipation of receiving anything in return. "The most precious gift is your true presence," says Thich Nhat Hanh. And this was confirmed by the countless people who came by, not for our free treats, but to acknowledge our commitment, saying, "Thanks for being here." The only real gift is the one you can't give away.

This could be a way of understanding today's story of Jesus' baptism. He comes to the banks of the Jordan as we come, as ordinary men and women, in search of the gift of the spirit. But he receives the unique presence, not from some outside source, but from that which came directly from himself. He teaches us that you can't look for a gift, you must be it. We must live in such a way as to become the gift of love to the whole world. 

That's what the Gospels are trying to tell us: We are the beloved, the irreplaceable and unique gift of the divine. The only appropriate response then is to share your wealth and worth with others because the universe gives so much in return. Don't look for a return on your investment. Be extravagant. Trust that the selfless service you give will meet its ultimate destination - connecting the common thread of existence - enabling one gift of love to multiply in to another. In essence this is the original re-gifting.

love, always,

pia