The courage to ‘see’

The courage to ‘see’

A young woman had been diagnosed with retinitis pigmentosa, a condition that causes a gradual and permanent loss of vision. For some time she was able to function without any assistance - in fact, she had maintained her independence throughout college and graduate school. But as her vision slowly deteriorated, she could not accept the reality that she would have to make some adjustments in her life. She worried how others would perceive her: She did not want anyone’s sympathy or pity. She kept a white cane in her brief case - but was too self-conscious to use it. So she ran into walls and doors and signs all the time; on the subway and on buses, she would often stand because she could not make her way to an open seat.

She was content to continue bumping into things rather than being recognized as a blind person - until her perspective changed. She was walking alongside a building she was familiar with. When she sensed the corner approaching, she moved away slightly so her shoulder wouldn't brush against it. Suddenly she realized her feet were no longer on the ground. When she felt she was again on the sidewalk, she stopped and looked back. What had changed around the corner? Then she saw him: She could make out the shape of a homeless man who was asleep on the pavement. He was unaware of what she had just realized - that she had walked right over him. Fortunately, she hadn’t hurt him. But she knew that if she had used her cane, this never would have happened.

She now recognizes the absurdity of her fears and pride about her blindness. She now uses the cane. She not only accepts her condition but she is secure with herself and her abilities to deal with it and “see” her way through her life.

In the light of his resurrection, the Easter Christ shows us the fullness of the life of God. We are not meant to be immobilized by our own inadequacies or our pride that our independence and sense of self might be compromised. Christ lifts Peter from his betrayal and entrusts to him the care of his church; he calls the fishermen from their nets on the Tiberius to embark on a new expedition that will take them across every sea and ocean. Like the woman who finally accepts her blindness and transforms her life in the process, like Peter and the disciples who are re-created in the forgiveness of the Risen One, may we rise above whatever limits us or discourages us from realizing the fullness of Easter joy in our lives. Easter’s empty tomb reveals the transformation that can be ours in seeking reconciliation with one another, in possessing the greatness of heart to forgive and seek forgiveness, in seeking that unique and total joy that comes only from putting the joy of others before our own.

Nail marks

Nail marks

A relative or friend of yours is going through a difficult time: an illness, the loss of a job, a breakup. You want to pick up the phone and call, you begin to write a card, you think about making something to bring over. But you hesitate. What do I say? What can I do? How can I possibly make this situation better?

So you back off. You don’t want to say the wrong thing. You don’t want to appear to pry. You don’t want to make things worse.

But somehow compassion trumps your doubts about you ability to help; your love and concern are stronger than your fear of dong or saying the wrong thing. So you make the call, write the note, bake the casserole. And you somehow find the right thing to say, or you realize, wisely, that nothing needs to be said. Your listening ear, your compassionate shoulder, your concerned presence are more that enough.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus appears to his disciples and shows them his hands and his side; later he invites the doubting Thomas to touch the marks make by the nails and the gash from the soldier’s lance. Easter does not deny the effects of Good Friday nor erase the wounds of crucifixion - but Easter is God’s compassion moving us beyond crucifixion to healing and wholeness. We all have scars from our own Good Fridays that remain long after our own experiences of resurrection. We learn from our scars. Our “nail marks” remind us that all pain and grief, all ridicule and suffering are transformed into healing and peace in the love of God we experience from others and that we extend them. Jesus tells Thomas and his brothers not to be afraid of nail marks and scars and fractured bones and the crushed spirit and the broken heart. Compassion, forgiveness, justice - no matter how clumsily offered - can heal and mend. In the light of unwavering hope, with the assurance of God’s unlimited grace, even the simplest act of kindness and understanding is the realization of Easter in our midst.

A simple Easter friendship

A simple Easter friendship

It is quite simple really. Orel and Marya are both eight years old. They have been next door neighbors for nearly a year. They talk, they watch television together, they share favorite foods and teats.

Two kids who are best friends. He can be kind of wild and impulsive; she is smart, always upbeat and strong-willed. But friends put up with that in each other.

Orel and Marya are patients at Jerusalem’s Alyn Hospital. Both children are recovering from devastating wounds suffered in the violence that is life in their homeland.

But what makes this simple friendship special is this: Orel is an Israeli Jew; Marya is a Palestinian Muslim.

They don’t understand the centuries of war and division between their two peoples. They are kids. They play. They cruise the hospital corridor in their wheelchairs. Someone forgot to tell them that they are supposed to be enemies.

Orel suffered severe brain damage during a Hamas rocket attack in the Gaza last January. Marya’s spinal cord was broken when a missile from an Israeli jet fighter mistakenly hit the car she was riding in.

Their families, from different backgrounds and cultures, have become good friends, as well (Marya’s father often helps with Orel’s therapy). The bond between these two children has inspired not only their families but the hospital staff, volunteers, and the parents and families of other patients at Alyn, which specializes in treating young people with serious physical disabilities. Orel and Marya have developed a kinship that defies ancient hatreds.

“The wounds of our children, their pain, our pain, have connected us,” Orel’s mother says. “Do we need to suffer in order to learn that there is no difference between Jews and Arabs?”

In such a simple expression of love and understanding is found Resurrection. Hope triumphs and love reigns in this friendship between two broken children, a friendship that defies old hatreds, a friendship that stares down evil, a friendship that is a certain sign that the kingdom of God is here and now. Resurrection takes place in our midst in such small, simple, hidden moments. Over the next fifty days, let each one of us do something that will mirror the light of this Easter day - something, no matter how simple and hidden, that will be our witness to the Easter promise that compassion, generosity, humility and selflessness will ultimately triumph over hatred, prejudice, despair, greed and death. May the simplicity of Easter compassion illuminate every moment of our days as we journey with the Risen One to the dwelling place of his Father.

Skill set

Skill set

A surgeon and his wife were invited to dinner at the home of friends. The surgeon was enjoying a drink in the kitchen as his host was about to carve the roast.

“Would you like to do the honors, Doc?” his friend said.

The surgeon politely declined.

As he carved the roast, his friend teased, “So how’s my technique, Doc? I think I’d make a pretty good surgeon, huh, Doc? It’s all in the wrist. You know, I might take your job.”

The doctor laughed good-naturedly, having endured this kind of humor many times before - an “occupational hazard” in his field of medicine.

When he finished, the host proudly displayed the tray of beautifully sliced roast beef. “So what d’ya think, Doc?”

“Not bad,” the surgeon replied. “Now - lets see you put them all back together.”

Most of us are pretty good at taking things apart - especially other people. Like the Pharisees and scribes in today’s Gospel, we are able, with surgical precision, to point to evil, to sin, to failure in others - but Jesus asks “What about the evil and sin and failure within yourselves?” We are well practiced in criticizing and condemning - but Jesus challenges us to the much harder work of healing and transforming evil into good, of bringing into the light the things of God that remain unseen in the darkness of fear and ignorance. In today’s Gospel, Jesus asks both the woman’s accusers and the woman herself to move beyond their standards and expectations, to go deeper than the rules and law, to see beyond what is readily apparent. He challenges them - and us - to look beyond our disappointments in our mutual failures and lift one another up when we stumble; he asks us to look within our own hearts to confront the sins and evil that are part of every life and find within ourselves the compassion and love of God that leads to true and lasting joy, healing and life.

The colors of the prodigal

The colors of the prodigal

Today’s gospel is one of the most beloved stories in all of Scripture. Jesus’ parable of the self-absorbed teenager who demands his inheritance from his loving father, squanders every cent on the good life and is reduced to tending pigs when the money runs out; once he realizes how foolish he has been, he is welcomed home by his thankful dad, no questions asked.

Many have imagined their own versions of the story - but perhaps the most insightful has been one artist’s interpretation on canvas. In 1669, the Dutch master Rembrandt painted “The Return of the Prodigal Son.” It was one of his last works, Rembrandt’s painting portrays the father welcoming home his son. The details of the painting are revealing:

First, there is the father. Rembrandt portrays the old man as the very picture of serenity. His face reflects tranquility and peace. He also appears to be blind; he sees his son, whose head he tenderly holds, not with his eyes but with his heart. Many have also noted the father’s hands: his left hand, the hand that pulls his son toward him has the strength and power of a father, while his right hand, caressing his son’s back, has the softness and tenderness of a mother. In Rembrandt’s portrayal, the old father mirrors the compassion of God, who loves us in the depth of our hearts, who is both mother and father to every one of us prodigals.

The figure of the prodigal, who collapses before his father, is emaciated and exhausted. His head is shaved; he is dirty and scarred; he wears only a dirty, ragged tunic and one torn sandal on his right foot. All defiance has been stripped away. The son is a picture of humility: his realization that he has wasted his life enables him to make the long, hard trek home to his father’s welcoming embrace.

And, in the shadows of the painting, is the older brother. He is angry and bitter. He looks at the scene with scorn and distrust. He knows that his younger brother’s return is going to be a hard readjustment for all of them. His bitterness and anger confines him to the darkness, outside of the light and color of his father’s joy and his brother’s gratitude.

Rembrandt’s beautiful painting invites all of us to see ourselves in each of the characters: in the father’s joy at having his boy back, in the prodigal’s facing responsibility for the hurt he has caused, in the older brother’s understandable but divisive resentment and distrust. The work of forgivenessdemands facing our culpability in hurting others, it requires putting aside our own hurts and resentments for the ultimate goal of being reunited with those from whom we are separated; and it calls for the balancing forgiveness and conversion that leads to reconciliation. May Rembrandt’s colors of forgiveness and gratitude illuminate our relationships and all the struggles we all experience in being family and friends to one another.

Rising from darkness and fire - and now, rubble

Rising from darkness and fire - and now, rubble



One of the many stories of perseverance and hope rising from the rubble of Haiti:

Romel Joseph was born to a poor Haitian family. He is completely blind in one eye and can only see shadows in the other. His love of music began as a boy the day he heard a Tchaikovsky concerto played by one of the sisters who taught at his school. Romel became so proficient in playing the violin that he won a Fulbright scholarship to study at Julliard and train with the Boston Symphony.

But instead of embarking on what would have been a very lucrative performing and recording career, Romel Joseph returned Haiti and, in 1991, opened the New Victorian School to teach music to the children of the poorest of the poor. In 2000, a fire destroyed the school - but, 12 days later, Romel was teaching classes again and the school was rebuilt.

And then, on January 12th of this year - ten years to the day of the fire - the New Victorian School was destroyed in the Haitian earthquake. No students were in the building at the time of the quake but Romel was trapped inside the rubble for 18 hours. He survived by praying and “playing” in his head every violin concerto he knew.

Tragically, Romel’s pregnant wife perished in the earthquake.

Romel was flown to Miami where he was treated for two crushed legs and two severe fractures in his left hand - the hand with which he grips the violin. Doctors don’t know if he’ll ever be able to play again.

Yet, even in the heartache and wrenching loss, Romel Joseph is determined to rebuild the New Victorian School - again. “As long as Haiti has children, you have a purpose being there. As long as there are kids there, they have to have a reasonable level of health and they have to have an education.

“I need more than an earthquake to make me stop my work in Haiti.”

In conquering one hardship and calamity after another, Romel Joseph has embraced the hope of the Gospel fig tree. Despite the sadness and tragedy that can cut down our lives in disappointment and despair, God continues to plant in our “orchards” opportunities to start over, to try new approaches, to move beyond our hurt and pain to make things right. Christ call us to embrace the hop of the fig tree and the determination of the gardener, to remember that God’s endless grace enables us to rebuild God’s kingdom in our midst again and again, to experience the promise of resurrection in every “death” and every Good Friday we experience.

Transfigured grace within you

Transfigured grace within you

A young husband and wife learn they are about to become parents for the first time. They are excited, of course - But there is a lingering doubt: How can I be a parent to a child when I’m still pretty much a kid myself? Do I have what it takes to be a good mom, a good dad? I mean, I could really destroy a great kid here! But the young parents find within themselves the wisdom, the strength, the patience - the grace - to be a good mom and dad to this child whom they love more than they could ever imagine.

She took care of every detail of their family’s live together. Then she became ill. It was now all up to him. At first, he was lost, terrified. But he managed to make it all work: to handle all the demands of the household, to keep everyone on schedule, to be dad and sometimes mom to the kids - all the while continuing to be a strong and supportive husband to her.

With the help of family and friends - and her - he found within himself the patience and where-with-all to keep family and home together.

Every life is a continuing series of such self-discovery: A boy picks up a bat for the first time. A girl takes her first tentative steps onto the court and begins dribbling the basketball.

He nervously steps up to the lectern and clears his throat. She stares at the blank page for a long time before she begins writing down words - her words.

He bends down to help, not knowing what he should do. She sits by the bedside, having no idea what to say.

Who are we to think we can play this game, succeed at this craft, express anything important in art, offer any meaningful support or consolation (terrified, in fact, that we are certain to say the wrong thing or do something to make things worse)?

But when we confront our fears, when we resolve to give all we have, when we devote the time to learn and practice, we amaze ourselves at the talents and abilities we possess and what we can do.

In our lives, we confront many mountains: the first day at a new school, new responsibilities at work, a desperate call for help. But we manage to find within ourselves abilities we didn’t know we possessed, words we didn’t think we knew, love that was beyond us. We realize in those moments that we are, in fact, smart enough, capable enough, loving enough to learn, to succeed, to heal, to transform our lives and the world around us.

In the event we have come to call Jesus’ “transfiguration,” the three disciples realize the divinity - the very life and love of God - that exists within the person of Jesus.

That same touch of divinity exists within each one of us, as well: God is present within us, animating us to do wonderful, holy thins; guiding our steps as we try to walk justly and humbly in the ways of God; enlightening our vision with wisdom and selflessness to bring the justice and mercy of God to our world. The challenge of discipleship is to allow the love of God within us to “transfigure” despair into hope, sadness into joy anguish into healing, estrangement into community.

Prophetess of bread

Prophetess of bread

During World War II, a battered contingent of captured allied soldiers were marched through a German village. The streets were lined with onlookers, some smiling smugly, others wiping away tears of compassion for the plight of these poor soldiers, many of them boys. The starving prisoners were utterly exhausted, their eyes dark with despair.

The silence of the scene was broken when a woman broke through, an ordinary housewife and mother, who thrust a loaf of bread into one of the prisoner’s hands before disappearing to her kitchen. Her risky act of compassion was soon taken up by others, who brought out food for the captives.

One woman’s prophetic act of courageous generosity resulted in the transformation of enemy soldiers into sons and brothers. The act “prophetically” begins with embracing what is right and just and then being willing to confront whatever evil seeks to destroy that good. In baptism, all of us are called to be prophets of God’s goodness and justice, however unpopular that prophetic act may make us, whatever cost such prophesy exacts from us.

May we possess the grace to act prophetically with compassion and forgiveness; may we possess the wisdom to listen to God speaking to us in the example and the grace of the prophets in our midst; may we possess the courage and sense of right to “proclaim” the love of God in our love of others and the justice and peace of God by the selfless integrity of our lives and convictions.

All are Welcome

Welcome to my new column in our web site. God bless you all.