Hidden Treasure

                When my father-in-law, Jerry, moved to New Jersey three years ago he could only bring a few personal belongings with him.  He had already been living in an apartment in El Paso, so he didn't have much in the first place.  But now he was moving into an even smaller place in an assisted living facility, so he had to cut back even more.  When it came time to make the tough choices, he made it clear that the “antiques” were at the top of the list of items moving east. 

                Pop had two pieces of furniture that he had inherited from his parents – a very large, heavy sideboard and an ornate secretary with a flip down desk top, seemingly endless drawers and compartments, and an intricate locking system that baffled us (fortunately, it wasn't locked).  They were beautiful pieces, but they certainly showed their age – darkened by years of New York City soot, dimmed by Texas desert dust and discolored by verdigris accumulated over countless years in unknown places.  Dirt and grime notwithstanding, the antiques took prominent places in his new, 3 room suite – and they looked great.

                As Pop’s health declined, Jessica and I became more and more involved in his medical care and financial decisions.  He was a simple man, so his finances, though perhaps a little unorthodox, were not overly complex.  One day, as we were discussing his portfolio and what to do with it, I joked, “OK, Pop, where are you hiding the secret treasure?”  He gave me a wry smile and pointed nonchalantly to the secretary.  I said, “Oh great, with all of those drawers we’ll never find it!”  Pop just smiled.

                Pop died in 2011 after a courageous battle with Parkinson’s disease.  As the executor of his estate, it was my job to go through his papers.  That meant I had to tackle the drawers and compartments in the secretary.  It wasn't a job I was looking forward to – not only were there lots of drawers and compartments, but they were STUFFED with papers.  It took me several hours to get through it all, but it turned out to be a fascinating trip through time.  I found lots of papers that could have been thrown away years ago, but I also found some wonderful heirlooms:  poetry and letters from  his mother; old photographs; some college term papers he had written fifty years earlier; and even a play he had crafted in his youth when he aspired to be an actor/playwright.  When my work was finished, I turned my eyes to the heavens and said, “Well Pop, no cash, but some pretty good treasure anyway.”

                Jessica inherited the secretary, and her sister Jackie inherited the sideboard.  We decided to have the secretary cleaned and restored right away, so we moved it straight from Pop’s suite to a wonderful furniture restorer in our area.  As soon as Bob looked at it, he knew we had something special.  He called in reputable antique appraisers and restoration experts from the Metropolitan Museum of Art to advise him on how the piece should be restored.  We were stunned to learn that the secretary dates to about 1650.  Now, we knew it was old because we have a picture of Pop’s grandfather standing in front of it in Germany as a young man, but we didn't know it was that old.  As it turns out, the secretary is a treasure in and of itself!

                That was two years ago – the secretary just came back from restoration two days ago.  It’s absolutely beautiful.  But something even more beautiful happened when we brought it into our home for the first time.  After struggling to move it without damaging it, Jessica, our two daughters and I stood silently in front of it for a while just to take it in.  Then it happened:  we all knew that Pop was with us in that moment, happy to see his cherished secretary take a place of honor in our home – a home where he had shared so many wonderful meals, holidays and celebrations with us.  We also felt an incredible, spiritual connection with Pop’s parents and grandparents and the generations of relatives who enjoyed this piece and passed it along for some 360 years.  I knew then that Pop was right:  there is a treasure hidden in that secretary – family. 

'Nuff Said . . .

          I think someone is trying to tell us something!

On Eagle’s Wings

                This morning I had my ninth eagle sighting this week – a personal best.  Although it’s possible to spy the occasional eagle back home in New Jersey, up here in the Catskills, with its abundant rivers, ample reservoirs and plenty of trout, your chance of spotting an eagle is much better.  That doesn't mean that it’s easy to find an eagle here.  Eagles like their privacy – they tend to shy away from the waters near busy roadways and populated areas.  So it’s become our custom up here in the Catskills to keep our eyes peeled for eagles.  When we see one, we’re just as thrilled as the first time we caught a glimpse of these magnificent creatures a few years ago.

                There’s something about eagles that captivates us.  Eagles stir up a sense of pride and patriotism here in the United States, and I’m sure in other countries as well.  The eagle is the national bird of 10 countries, and it appears on the coats of arms of 26 countries.  Eagles are noble, serious birds whose steely gaze conveys confidence and determination.  Eagles are survivors – they tough out harsh winters when much of their hunting grounds are buried in ice and snow, and they've made a remarkable comeback from near extinction from DDT poisoning.    

The eagle is also a symbol of strength, courage and farsightedness.  To ancient peoples, the eagle was the king of the skies and a messenger from the gods.  In Judeo-Christian Biblical tradition, the eagle is a sign of God’s steadfast protection:  “As an eagle incites its nestlings, hovering over its young, so he spread his wings, took them, bore them upon his pinions.”[1]  The eagle is also a symbol of hope in God’s promise of better things to come:  “They that wait upon the LORD shall renew [their] strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; [and] they shall walk, and not faint.”[2]

The novena of eagle sightings inspired much meditation this week.  I thought of the children of friends and family who are off to college for the first time – leaving the nest to soar to new heights.  I thought of the people close to me who are suffering from serious illnesses, turning their eyes to the heavens for strength, courage and comfort.  I thought of my relatives and friends who have died, those who have slipped the surly bonds of earth . . . to touch the face of God.”[3]  These eagles bore a message from God, reminding me that “he will raise us up on eagle’s wings, bear us on the breath of dawn, make us to shine like the sun, and hold us in the palm of his hand.”[4] 

  

Click here to listen to Eagle's Wings.

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[1] Deuteronomy 32:11.

[2] Isaiah 40: 31.

[3] John Gillespie Magee, “High Flight,” 1941.

[4] “On Eagle’s Wings,” music and lyrics by Michael Joncas.

You Raise Me Up

The other day, my neighbor Alice stopped by with her two-year-old granddaughter Harper.  Harper was feeling a little shy.  At one point, when all of the new faces became overwhelming, Harper turned to Alice and said, “Up, up!”  She wanted to be lifted up, held in her G-ma’s loving arms; she wanted to be supported and comforted; she wanted to feel safe.   I’ll bet we all know exactly how Harper felt, both before and after Alice picked her up.  Sometimes we just need to be raised up.

            Today is the Solemnity of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary, the day we celebrate Mary’s Assumption into heaven.  Catholics believe that because of the special grace accorded to Mary by God – to be conceived without original sin – and because of her steadfast fidelity to God’s will, her Son’s redemptive work and the promptings of the Holy Spirit, Mary was assumed into heaven body and soul when the course of her life on earth was finished.[1]  Now the Assumption of Mary should not be confused with the Ascension of Jesus.  In the Ascension, Jesus, whom we believe to be fully God, ascended into heaven.  He didn't need help.  No one did it for him.  He did it, as God.  But Mary is simply human, like us.  She was assumed into heaven by the power and grace of God.  She was raised up.  We hope for the same for ourselves.

 

            But in order to be raised up by God, we need to let ourselves be raised up.  We have to accept that we are creatures – we are not the Creator.  We have to understand that there is One greater than we are – we are not all powerful.  We have to admit that we need help – we can’t do it alone.  Simply put, we have to be child-like; we have to be humble.  And Mary is the perfect example of this humility.  In the Magnificat,[2] Mary “proclaims the greatness of the Lord” because “he has looked with favor on his lowly servant.”  Mary also attests to God’s willingness to raise us up, praising God for lifting up the lowly, for filling the hungry with good things, and for coming to the help of his servant, Israel.  Mary understood that it is God who raises us up, and that we need God to raise us up.

Mary also understood that in our “yes” to God, we are raised up by becoming God’s instruments of grace.  We are God’s hands and feet on earth.  We help God lift up the lowly, fill the hungry with good things and come to the help of his servants. Over the past few weeks, I've been a blessed witness to so many wonderful examples of God raising us up through the good works of others:

╬ God lifted up the lowly when friends and family supported us through sickness and             mourning;

╬ God filled the hungry with good things when 60 volunteers and countless donors provided backpacks of school supplies for local children whose parents can’t afford them; and

╬ God came to the help of his servant when 20 people dedicated their time and strength to helping a parishioner move from her home.

God raises us up when we love him by loving our neighbor.  And in raising us up, God gives us the strength and courage to do the impossible.  In raising us up, God supports us, comforts us and makes us feel safe.  In raising us up, God helps us become fully human; he helps us become more than we can be.

You raise me up so I can stand on mountains;

You raise me up to walk on stormy seas;

I am strong when I am on your shoulder;

You raise me up to more than I can be.[3]

Click here to listen to You Raise Me Up, sung by Josh Groban.

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[1] Catechism of the Catholic Church, 966-967.

[2] Luke 1: 46-55.

[3] You Raise Me Up, music by Rolf Løvland, lyrics by Brendan Graham.

Quick Prayer

           I love this simple little prayer.  I received it by email this morning with a request to pass it along, and so I do:

        God, our Father, walk through my house and take away             all my worries and illnesses and please watch over and                 heal my family and friends in God's name.

Amen 

Crazy Faith - Homily for the Nineteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

          Sigmund Freud, the Austrian neurologist who became known as the founding father of psychoanalysis, believed that faith was a collective neurosis resulting from the longing for a father-god, wish fulfillment and fantasy.[1]  Put more simply, Freud thought that people who integrate faith into their lives are crazy.  Jesus thought otherwise.

 

          Our readings today speak of faith – confidence in God’s loyalty.  We hear of the faith of Abraham and Sarah that led them from their homeland to a place they were to receive as an inheritance, without even knowing where they were going.  We also hear of the steady covenant faith of the Israelites whose courage on the night of the Passover rested in the sure knowledge of the promises in which they put their faith.  And in our Gospel, Jesus teaches us that the promise of faith is an inexhaustible treasure that calls us to be vigilant and prepared for the unexpected.  Together, our readings show us that “[God’s] promises have found faithful witnesses not only in the ancient past, but throughout history.  Faith isn't a dead letter, but a lived experience.”[2]

  

          So what does it mean to live our faith?  Well, of course, it involves believing in God, praying and attending Mass.  But it’s much more than that.

 

Faith is seeing another in need and stopping to help rather than pass them by.  Faith is speaking out against injustice . . . and letting our principles guide our lives rather than being swept along by popular opinion.  Faith is believing without seeing, praying without ceasing and trusting without proof that God is, that Jesus is, and that the Spirit dwells within.[3]

Living our faith is living the way Jesus taught us to live – as servants:  servants of God, and servants of our neighbor.  “Servants need to be devoted to their tasks, refusing to let distractions, fatigue, or delay divert them from their duties.”[4]  Servants make the fulfillment of the Master’s wishes their highest obligation and their greatest concern.[5]  To live in faith we must integrate Jesus’ teachings into our daily lives, into our very being, even if those teachings sometimes sound crazy. 

          Today, we tend to live very compartmentalized lives.  We put on one face at home, another at work, and even another at Church.  We see family, work and faith as separate components of our lives, rather than as integrated parts of our whole being.  It’s even become taboo to simply speak about our faith at work or in a public forum.  But modern psychology is quickly learning that humans yearn for greater integration in our lives.  We are physical and spiritual beings, so we feel incomplete when we suppress one aspect of our being in favor of another.  Disaggregating our spiritual needs from our biological, psychological and social needs is unhealthy.  As Carl Jung, the founder of analytical psychology said, “[t]he individual who is not anchored in God can offer no resistance on his own resources to the physical and moral blandishments of the world.  For this, he needs the evidence of inner, transcendent experience.”[6]   Simply put, we need God in every aspect of our lives to give us the strength, the courage and the resilience to meet the challenges of this world.

Recent research supports Jung’s conclusion.  In a 2008 study by the American Psychological Association, prayer and going to church were rated as the most effective strategies for reducing stress.[7]  Unless you come to church on a day when I’m preaching.   Similar studies found that religious affiliation was tied to greater life satisfaction, hope and optimism, lower rates of suicide and alcohol and drug abuse, and a greater ability to withstand the increased pain and fatigue that accompanies life-threatening illnesses.[8]  So faith not only brings with it the rewards of eternal life (as if that weren't enough), but science confirms that faith also makes our lives here on earth happier and healthier.  As one theologian put it, men and women of faith “face catastrophe or confusion, affluence or sorrow unperturbed, face opportunity with conviction and drive, and face others with self-forgetting charity.”[9]  Call me crazy, but faith sounds pretty good to me.

          It even started to sound good to Sigmund Freud.  At the very end of his life, Freud had somewhat of a change of heart.  Though he remained a committed atheist, Freud began to see the positive effects that faith had on human development.  He credited faith in an invisible God with greater introspection, self-knowledge and contemplation among the faithful.[10]  It seems that psychology and theology agree on at least one thing:  to live without faith is, well, crazy.

Readings for the Nineteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year C

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[1] Marsha Wiggins Frame, Integrating Religion and Spirituality into Counseling (Pacific Grove, Brooks/Cole, 2003) at 11.

[2] John W. Martens, “An Alert Faith,” America, vol. 209, no. 3 (July 29-August 5, 2013) at 38.

[3] Patricia Datchuk Sánchez, “By Faith,” National Catholic Reporter, vol. 49, no. 21 (August 2-15, 2013) at 23.

[4] R. Alan Culpepper, “The Gospel of Luke,” New Interpreter’s Bible, vol. IX (Nashville, Abingdon Press, 1995) at 265.

[5] Id.

[6] Carl Jung, The Undiscovered Self (London, Routledge & Kegan Paul 2002) at 16-17.

[7] “Stress in America 2008,” American Psychological Association at 6, Table 2, http://www.apa.org/news/press/releases/2008/10/stress-in-america.pdf

[8] E.L. Moss, K.S. Dobson, “The Place of Spirituality in Psychological End of Life Care,” The Register Report (Spring 2007) at 13.

[9] Charles Hefling, “Why Doctrines?” 2d ed. (Chestnut Hill, The Lonergan Institute, 2000) at 20.

[10] Mark Edmundson, “Defender of the Faith?” New York Times Magazine (September 9, 2007), http://www.nytimes.com/2007/09/09/magazine/09wwln-lede-t.html?pagewanted=all.

On this day . . .

On this day . . .

In 1620, the Mayflower departed from Southampton, England on its first attempt to reach North America;

In 1884, the cornerstone of the Statue of Liberty was laid on Bedloe’s Island (now Liberty Island) in New York Harbor;

In 1891, The first traveler’s checks were issued by American Express;

In 1924, the comic strip “Little Orphan Annie” debuted;

In 1926, Harry Houdini performed his greatest feat, escaping from a sealed tank underwater after 91 minutes;

In 1929, Babe Ruth became the first person to hit 500 home runs;

In 1957, American Bandstand debuted on network television;

In 1966, John Lennon declared that the Beatles were more popular than Jesus;

In 1972, San Antonio, Texas celebrated Cheech and Chong Day;

AND

In 2013, Ramblings from the Ambo received its 2000th hit!

Thank you to all of my readers from around the globe. 

Much peace,

Deacon Mike

The Cicada’s Song

          This summer hasn't been very kind to the Meyer family.  It began with a funeral.  Then two family members had surgery, and two had trips to the emergency room.  We haven’t been able to schedule a vacation yet, because we’re still dealing with recuperations and doctors’ appointments.  So last week, at the height of it all, I decided that I needed some mini-vacations:  I decided to begin my day by praying the Rosary on an early morning walk.  I love to walk and pray the Rosary.  It gives me time to think and to place my concerns before God.  It also rousts my carcass, which is typically parked at a desk all day long. 

August mornings in New Jersey are usually cool and clear, and that’s great walking weather.  I sometimes pass a neighbor or two during the walk, but most of the time my walks are solitary and quiet . . . except for the cicadas.  August is also the month for cicadas in New Jersey.  Some people love them, others hate them.  I love them.  I mention the cicadas because that’s the first thing I noticed when I started taking my morning walks.  My initial reaction to the whirr of the cicadas was to bemoan how quickly the summer was passing.  But the cicada song soon lulled me into a very peaceful state.  The sound brings back so many wonderful August memories for me – trips to my grandfather’s cabin in the Poconos; family vacations; strolling the grounds of a Buddhist monastery in Japan; the birth of my first child. 

More importantly, cicadas remind me to live in the moment.  Cicadas live most of their lives underground, and their lives above ground last only about 6 to 8 weeks.  And how do they spend that time?  Singing.  Cicadas don’t lament years spent underground or the fact that their time above ground will be so short.  They don’t worry about when they’re going to die.  They just sing!  What a great way to live – singing. 

Though my family has faced many challenges this summer, we've also received countless blessings: the care of great doctors and nurses; the support of family and friends; and the return to good health.  I could spend my day complaining about the challenges, or I could spend my day being grateful for the blessings received.  It’s my choice.  So at least for August, I chose to follow the cicadas’ example.  I choose to sing!

In the cicada's song

There's no sign that can foretell

How soon it must die.

Bashō Matsuo (1644-1694)