A PERSONAL MOMENT OF TRUTH

On this 4th of July 2015, I'm thinking about what is most meaningful to me at this stage of my life. Of course there are the obvious things: my wife, our children, and my family at large; my ability to still be in reasonably good health with a fair amount of vitality at my age; the fact that I'm still involved in the ministry, though part-time (which is the way I want it); and a wonderful place to live that is both comfortable and rustically beautiful (the kind of place I've always wanted to live)
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Those things add up to a very nice life and one for which I am extremely grateful. I could add to those a whole host of great memories drawn from years gone by: people, experiences, and places I've been.

Last Monday I stood at the grave of Robert Frost in Old First Congregational Church in Bennington, VT. I was mesmerized by the fact that here lay the body of a man whose name and works I have known for most of my life. Among my favorite of his poems are Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening, Birches, Mending Wall, and certainly, The Road Not Taken. Someone planted a birch tree right next to his grave. 

Also in that cemetery are the graves of several soldiers who fought in the Battle of Bennington on August 16, 1777. Their names have long ago been forgotten with the possible exception of those whose history is directly linked to them. However maudlin that may come across to some people (although I don't know why), I found being there deeply inspiring. It was a profound moment.

Standing at the grave of someone I have admired for his thinking and writing all my life, and also at the graves of those who had fallen during a significant battle of the American Revolution in order for us to live freely, somehow seemed like a perfect blend of truth to me. I am not sure that I can express it the way I'm feeling it, but express your life joyfully and creatively, compassionately and appreciatively because we are all here for but a short time; but we are called to live as if life really matters. Those who died so very long ago now, died for no less a purpose.

APPLES, PEACHES, PUMPKIN PIE....

Now that summer is here, my thoughts have turned back to my childhood days growing up in Medford. It wasn't perfect, but it was, as far as I'm concerned, as close to it as possible. Almost every day was some kind of adventure.  We spent hours swimming at the "Minnie Hole," a wide area of water where a branch of Haines Creek ran through. We'd start in the early afternoon and eventually go home for dinner and then back swimming again.

The evenings until way after dark were spent playing hide-and-seek, and a few games we made up as we went along, which I'm not sure had any specific rules except when somebody objected to losing (which is kind of the way people still are). Along with swimming and hide-and-seek, we had a local movie theater, with Saturday matinees and lots candy and popcorn.

Then there were family trips to the beach on LBI. The arcades at Clementon Lake Park and Seaside (when I had enough pennies, nickles, and dimes),the Steel Pier in Atlantic City, and crabbing in Tuckerton.

My summer jobs were picking blueberries, packing corn, mowing lawns, drying tomato seeds at Stokes Cannery in Vincentown. There's a lot more that I could share, but I better stop here before you quit reading. 

Anyway, there's an old saying that goes "you can't go home again." And to a large part, that's true. On the other hand, you can always go back home in your memories--the advantage being that you can choose to relive the really good times and eliminate the ones that were embarrassing, painful, and nightmarish.
Of course, those also helped to make us what we are in these days.But our treasured memories are still very much alive. 

Neurosurgeon Wilder Penfield performed some experiments on patients (with their permission) during surgery in which he would probe the brain to stimulate various responses. In one of those, he probed a certain area in an attempt to activate a memory. He asked the patient where he was and he said that he was at a ballgame. The patient could smell the smells, hear the noise of the crowd, and experience various other senses of actually being there. 

I don't think we should have our brains probe in surgery, but maybe it is an indication of all those great things we remember are still accessible to us in some way.

Bottom line, though, it isn't just for the purpose of a nostalgic journey. It is an
experience of life being filled with the grace to allow us to appreciate the good things that are still alive in our life stories and for a cleansing of the soul that in anyway is filled with guilt or fear or hostility. Divine love has brought us to where we are and Divine Grace has given us permission to be free.
 

A BUCKET LIST?

So I was sitting in my favorite chair up in the bedroom, thinking about miscellaneous odds and ends, when I was suddenly interrupted by a thought that demanded attention. I don't know the source nor do I know why it occurred to me other than the thoughts I've been having lately about the span of a lifetime. Of course, as a minister I have officiated at more funerals and memorial services than I can count. And they have all been decidedly different--young, middle-aged, elderly--sadly, even infants.

The span of lifetimes are determined by so many factors that it is impossible to say what each of ours would be, other than as marked as we progress along the various stages of our life's journey...childhood, adolescence, young adulthood, middle-age, senior. Now before this turns into some kind of requiem, I want to make the main point that was going on in my mind. I wasn't having maudlin thoughts about death and dying; rather I was thinking about what those who have gone before us might say to us if they could about the living of these days. 

I think that the first thing they would say would be, "It's all going to be okay. Don't worry about anything. You are being watched over by loving spirits who will see to it that you will always be all right, here and beyond."

Then I think they would tell us that our lives on this earth are purposeful no matter what the duration or circumstance. It's just that we can't see the Big Picture from where we stand now. But the most important thing is to realize that we are worthy to get as much joy and experience as much peace as we will allow ourselves.

That being said, their encouragement might be:

Without any sense of self-imposed guilt...

• Now is the time to enjoy some really great music
• Now is the time to enjoy the company of those you love
• Now is the time to do something fun and creative with your life.
• Now is the time to sit with an afternoon cup of tea and read some poetry
• Now is the time to stop putting yourself down
• Now is the time to fully appreciate what you have
• Now is the time to allow yourself to feel the joy of being alive.
• Now is the time to... (you fill in the rest) 

Down from the Door Where it Began*

A January morning - specifically the 26th. A month away from my 72nd birthday. Lying in bed this morning I traveled back in time to my childhood. Not literally -- mentally and, I suppose, emotionally as well. I thought of various events and circumstances, some of which were delightful and some of which could only be described as embarrassingly painful. Most everybody has that mix of remembrances, so I am not devastated by thoughts of my past by any means.

I'm sure you're familiar with that classic reflective comment that goes "If I only knew then what I know now!" Some of that was going on in my brain until I came to my senses with the intrusion of Truth: That's not how life works...never did, never will. But still, I couldn't help replaying on the screen of my mind certain moments of my childhood and imagining how I may have been or what I might have said had I actually known then what I know now. It's a stretch, to tell you the truth. 

Naturally, I had all the right comebacks. And, of course, I was in complete control of every situation. I was a grade school wonder student to be admired by all and I was a super athlete that amazed others by my speed and prowess. (You are following this, aren't you? I'm talking about in my mind, not in reality.) 
The things by which I was embarrassed were eradicated--never happened--and the things that I shouldn't have done, I never did. And, of course, the things I should have done, I did without hesitation or second thoughts.

Then another thought came to my mind: it was time to make the coffee...to wake up to reality and to accept the fact that my life was what it was and is what it is because of what I was. Does that make sense? In other words, it played out exactly the way it was supposed to because of who and what I am.
My story and your story are but an unfolding of our unique purposeful presence in the world. 

Then I thought of a line from one of my favorite plays by Thornton Wilder, Our Town. Emily is a young girl who has died but is given permission to revisit one of her days on earth. She chooses the day of her 12th birthday, but it turns out to be a very disappointing, even painful experience. No one pays any attention to her because they are so busy doing other things. She asks the Stage Manager, "Doesn't anyone ever realize life while they live it?"

The coffee was good, and so has been and is my life. Some lessons have been hard and painful, others joyful and pleasant. And one thing I know for sure: I am still far from perfect at the almost age of 72, but it's okay because I was never intended to be perfect. And that is a universal truth that applies to the whole human family.

[*The title comes from a song by Bilbo Baggins from The Hobbit.]

On the Mediterranean

After-dinner conversation. Topic: you never know. Ancient Chinese folktale:

A farmer had a beautiful horse who was the envy of all his neighbors. One day the horse disappeared for no apparent reason. His neighbors came by to comfort him. They said, "We're so sorry to hear about your horse. This is such bad news!
The farmer said, "We'll see."
A week later, his horse returned with twenty beautiful wild horses. The neighbors said to him, "Congratulations! This is such good news!"
The farmer said, "We'll see."
One day soon after, the farmer's son was attempting to break in one of the wild horses, but the horse threw him off and he broke his leg.
The neighbors said to the farmer, "We're so sorry. This is such bad news. You must be so upset."
The farmer said, "We'll see."
War broke in the country and all young men were being drafted. That is, all young men except the farmer's son, who had a broken leg. The neighbors said to the farmer, "Congratulations! This is such good news!"
The farmer said, "We'll see."

The after-dinner conversation came to an agreeable conclusion: In life, we too easily decide that something is ultimately good or bad, based upon a present moment reality. In fact, many things that have appeared to be bad or even terrible have led to something very good in our lives. i.e.-celebrate or grieve depending on the situation, but don't give up on the ultimate goodness of Divine intentions. We are all on a journey, but not alone.

If you want to think more about this, I suggest Wayne Dyer's book I Can See Clearly Now.

[After a sabbatical from writing for the last several months, doing other things, I am returning to my blog.]

Butterflies Are Free

     

Many of you know that the butterfly is one of my favorite references as a spiritual symbol. I have used the butterfly story countless times in funeral homilies, Easter sermons, and in a number of other settings. I suppose you could say that it has in some ways become a kind of signature piece of my ministry. That’s true to the extent that through the years people have given me posters, cards and stained glass window ornaments. Many times when I’m about to officiate at a funeral service I say to myself, “I won’t tell the butterfly story today because so many people have already heard it.” And, with or without my permission, the words come streaming out of my mouth.

     I first told it as a seminarian at a funeral service I did for a young family who lost their husband and father. The widow called me the next day and very excitedly told me that they had gone out to the cemetery to visit her husband’s grave. While they were standing there, holding hands and hugging one another, all of a sudden a butterfly emerged from the flowers and circled around them and flew off. She said that she believed that that was a sign from her husband that he was fine and that he was saying goodbye to them. She thanked me profusely for telling the story. It’s been with me ever since.

     So one day we were touring the ancient ruins of Rome. I was deeply touched by the experience and as we stood on the ancient road, I thought of the likes of the Apostle Paul, passing through the Forum on those very same stones perhaps and from prison writing the book of Romans to inspire people to not lose faith. It was a deep spiritual moment for me.

     Two days later we were at the Vatican standing in a portico of St. Peter’s Square. We were listening to Pope Francis give mass to literally thousands of people gathered there. One of the readers read from the book of Romans in English. Then I suddenly noticed that Chris was taking my picture, but I didn’t particularly know why until she showed me. At that moment a butterfly had landed on the bill of my hat. And yes, you could say that that wasn’t unusual except for the fact that there was nothing to attract a butterfly in that entire area of the Square—no flowers, no foliage—just thousands of people.

     Bottom line: I’m still thinking about that, although I guess the truth of it is that butterflies are free to be wherever they choose to be.

Marvelous World!

Well, we're back, safe and sound from 17 days in Italy. It was a great trip that will ne'er be forgotten. The following is a summary, if you're interested:

Rome for three days, stayed at the home of Mario Bova, retired Italian Ambassador to Japan and Albania, along with his spouse, Katerina. Wonderful home!
Toured ancient ruins of Rome, including the Colosseum and Pantheon.

Toured the Vatican Gardens, the Sistine Chapel, and heard Pope Francis in St. Peter's Square (there's more to that to be told yet)

Puglia  Stayed at the home of Mario's brother, John Franco and his spouse, Juliana. Participated in the "maiden voyage" of a new business of touring in Italian classic cars throughout the countrysides of southern regions of Italy. Road in Fiats, Alfa Romeos, and some others I can't remember at the moment.

Amalfi Coast for four days. Absolutely Beautiful! Stayed in a flat overlooking the Mediterranean, in a residence recently vacated by Kevin Kostner (He left the rooms in great shape and by the way, the owner didn't charge us a thing!)

Took a boat out to Capri, had lunch, Chris, Tim and Ellie swam in the blue Mediterranean waters.

Venice Two nights...It was okay, but not our cup of tea. However, went to a great concert of Vivaldi's Four Seasons at St. Stefano Church. Spent time in St. Marc's Square, toured St. Marc's Basilica, and had some great food.

Verano Move on to the wonderful city of Verano for one night on our way to Alps. This was one of our favorite cities...clean, friendly and again, great food.
While here we went to Juliette's castle and courtyard. Did you know that Shakespeare's play was loosely based on history? There's a balcony that is regarded as Juliette's but,again, who knows?

The Dolemites (the Italian Alps) Stayed in the Alps just above the quaint Italian village of Luserna. (More also to be shared about that). The place we stayed was Compo Malga, a lodge that mostly hosts cross-country skiers and bicyclists. We hiked and enjoyed magnificent scenery! 

More will be shard about all of this. We're glad to be back but sure had a great time!