Emmaus Road

Hurtling toward Christmas

2009-12-13T16:46:00.000-08:00

The next two weeks will be quite busy for me. I have...

A major deadline at work on Christmas Eve
A party at our home next Saturday
Several volunteer commitments, including meetings, fundraising recruiting for Honduras, etc.
At least one or two parties to attend
Oh, and pretty much all of my Christmas shopping yet to do.

So perhaps I can be forgiven for succumbing to briefly hyperventilating every once in a while.

But when I finally stop for a moment or two and think, really think about how I'm going to do what I need to do, I realize that I can't do it. At least not by myself. I have to stop and unburden myself and let God take over, because otherwise this is not going to end well.

So earlier today I read the readings for Mass, and the second reading reading really spoke to me where I am and have been:

The Lord is near.
Have no anxiety at all, but in everything,
by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving,
make your requests known to God.
Then the peace of God that surpasses all understanding
will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.

Yes, the Lord is near. But I have not been present enough to the Lord, and so my burdens weigh me down. But it is a new week ahead, full of new possibilities, challenges and opportunities -- and a chance to scratch a few things off my list. Yet the thing I need to do most -- and I need to do it every day -- is "by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, make (my) requests known to God".

This week I will make a special effort to make time for God, to be quiet for a little while and find me true center, the place where God abides within me and answers the prayers and petitions of my heart.

Take me by the hand

2009-12-10T07:52:00.000-08:00

I am starting to stress out.

There is a lot going on, between work, my professional volunteer work, and my parish volunteer work...not to mention Christmas. Then there is the Honduras trip. Starting the process with only four months to do everything is starting to feel like quite a challenge. There have been a couple of times already when I started thinking about what needs to be done and figured out and I could just feel my heart rate picking up.

A few weeks ago I did a witness talk at Mass that touched on my experience in Honduras last year, about how there were days during the planning stage then that I was similarly anxious. Also how during the trip I was so overwhelmed by all that was happening and the decisions that needed to be made. I talked about how at those times I could truly feel God coming and taking hold of my hand and leading me through it.

And so I should not be surprised that when I read the readings for today, right after I was stressing about the trip, here is the first thing I read from Isaiah:

"I am the LORD, your God,
who grasp your right hand;
It is I who say to you, “Fear not,
I will help you.”

So often this is how I feel the presence of the Holy Spirit in my life, that when I look to him for help, God sets before me the exact words, the very person, or precisely the resources I need when I truly need them. After this has happened to me so many times, it puzzles me how I can ever forget it.

And yet I do. Which is why I keep a (growing) collection of quotes and books at my desk to remind me, including the Prayer of St. Teresa, my favorite quote from Jeremiah 29:11-14, and a little section from the Golden Counsels of St. Francis de Sales:

Do not think about what will happen tomorrow, for the same eternal Father who takes care of you today will look out for you tomorrow and always. Either he will keep you from evil or he will give you invincible courage to endure it.

So once again I feel God taking me by the hand, and that is a comforting feeling indeed.

Returning to Honduras

2009-12-08T12:23:00.000-08:00

After much thought and prayer I have decided to lead another trip to Honduras March 20-28, 2010. You can learn more about the trip at my Global Village Website . You can also read accounts of last year's trip here (hit 'Newer Posts' after each post). I welcome anyone interested in joining the trip -- just shoot me an email with your contact info via this site. And if you can't make the trip, please make a donation of any amount to support the team. You can donate online here.

There is far less time to recruit members and raise money than there was last year, and I confess that I'm a little antsy about being able to pull it off in time. But every time I start feeling anxious I remember the Lord called me to do this, and through the Lord I will find a way.

Discipline

2009-07-21T10:35:00.000-07:00

Back in March, I wrote about the impending change in priestly leadership at my parish of St. Paul the Apostle, from the Oblates of St. Francis de Sales to priests of the Diocese of Charlotte. As I wrote then:

It is an emotional time of transition, and one of fear and anxiety for some, as we have not faced a change like this in a long time. The parish has been staffed by order priests for its first 35 years, first the Paulists, then the Oblates. This is a step into the unknown.

At the time I quoted Jeremiah ("Blessed is the man who trusts in the LORD, whose hope is the LORD...") as I firmly believed the hand of God was shaping the course of events in our parish life, and that our prayer for vibrant new leadership would be answered. I had already noted a change in the parish as if in anticipation of what was to come:

Our parish has been through a lot over the past ten years, including the removal of a beloved pastor due to accusations of sexual abuse and a severe financial crisis. I don't need to recount all the particulars, as they are all part of a past we can't change. Over that time we watched our numbers wither by a quarter or even a third.

But we have also watched a miracle take hold. Our finances bounced back, and in spite of the strains of the recession are still better than they were. Our numbers have bounced back. There is a renewed sense of who we are as a community, and the role we play in the larger community of Greensboro.

As so often happens when we trust the Lord, our trials have become a beautiful gift. Because I believe we now see that our faith community at St. Paul's is much more than our priestly leadership, more than the homily on Sunday or even the Mass itself. We are here for each other, and we are here for others we don't even know -- the homeless who stay in our church as part of the Greensboro Interfaith Hospitality Network, the Muslim family whose house we helped build through Habitat for Humanity and the people whose houses we'll work on in Honduras, the people of our sister parish in Ecuador, and the people who come through our doors every day to find help to get through these hard times.

We are now about two weeks into the new "administration", and I can honestly say that I couldn't be more delighted. Fr. John Allen and Fr. Benjamin Roberts have already injected new and positive energy through their wonderful interpersonal and communication skills as well as their great love and reverence for the celebration of the Eucharist. I myself feel renewed in my faith after feeling for such a long time like I was struggling to put one foot in front of the other in my parish life. I am now filled with optimism and hope -- and gratitude.

Which leads me to yet another personal Emmaus moment, one that perhaps my fellow parishioners share. Looking back, and seeing for the first time the new possibilities that lie ahead, I feel as if our community at St. Paul's was being disciplined, in the sense of training as opposed to punishment, for even greater service to God and our community through our trials the last few years. St. Paul himself uses the same imagery, of both the training of a runner and the discipline of a son by his father, in Hebrews 12:

Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us rid ourselves of every burden and sin that clings to us and persevere in running the race that lies before us while keeping our eyes fixed on Jesus, the leader and perfecter of faith. For the sake of the joy that lay before him he endured the cross, despising its shame, and has taken his seat at the right of the throne of God. Consider how he endured such opposition from sinners, in order that you may not grow weary and lose heart. In your struggle against sin you have not yet resisted to the point of shedding blood. You have also forgotten the exhortation addressed to you as sons:
"My son, do not disdain the discipline of the Lord or lose heart when reproved by him;for whom the Lord loves, he disciplines; he scourges every son he acknowledges."
Endure your trials as "discipline"; God treats you as sons. For what "son" is there whom his father does not discipline?...At the time, all discipline seems a cause not for joy but for pain, yet later it brings the peaceful fruit of righteousness to those who are trained by it.

Through the love and grace of Jesus Christ, and by the power of prayer in His name, our trials and frustrations, our hurts and failures, are being transformed into new life in our parish. Hallelujah!

Thoughtful Article on Honduras

2009-07-21T08:14:00.000-07:00

I continue to follow events in Honduras with interest and some anxiety. There was a very thoughtful op-ed piece in yesterday's Wall Street Journal on the situation there, the basic thrust of which was that what is being termed the "interim government" is in fact legitimate under the Honduran constitution:

In the three weeks since the Honduran Congress moved to defend the country's constitution by relieving Mr. Zelaya of his presidential duties, it has become clear that his arrest was both lawful and a necessary precaution against violence.

Mr. Zelaya was trying to use mob rule to undermine Honduras's institutions in much the same way that Mr. Chávez has done in Venezuela. But as Washington lawyer Miguel Estrada pointed out in the Los Angeles Times on July 10, Mr. Zelaya's actions were expressly forbidden by the Honduran constitution.
"Article 239," Mr. Estrada noted, "specifically states that any president who so much as proposes the permissibility of reelection 'shall cease forthwith' in his duties, and Article 4 provides that any 'infraction' of the succession rules constitutes treason." Congress had little choice but to take its next step. It convened "immediately after Zelaya's arrest," Mr. Estrada wrote, "condemning his illegal conduct, and overwhelmingly voting (122-6) to remove him from office."

I am not a scholar of the U.S. Constitution, much less the Honduran one, but that seems fairly clear to me. I'm concerned that our government's role in encouraging Senor Zelaya's return to power is ultimately counter-productive and on the wrong side of Honduran law.

But my primary concern is and continues to be the safety and well being of those we met and worked with there, as well as all the Honduran people. It's still tense and scary, and could easily go downhill, especially with Senor Zelaya's remarks encouraging insurrection as a possible solution. Let's hope it doesn't come down to that, and that a diplomatic solution will be found.

Meantime Habitat Honduras is in limbo, as are any plans for mission trips for next year. It certainly adds an element of uncertainty to my own discernment of whether to lead another trip. As usual, I guess I'll have to let God sort this one out...

Encouragement

2009-07-16T08:38:00.000-07:00

Every once in a while, one of the daily Scripture readings speaks to me deeply and in a way I need to capture and save as a reminder. In straightening up my office this morning, I came across one from 2 Cor 1: 3-7 that I had printed from June 8:

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and God of all encouragement,
: who encourages us in our every affliction, so that we may be able to encourage those who are in any affliction with the encouragement with which we ourselves are encouraged by God.
: For as Christ's sufferings overflow to us, so through Christ does our encouragement also overflow.
: If we are afflicted, it is for your encouragement and salvation; if we are encouraged, it is for your encouragement, which enables you to endure the same sufferings that we suffer.
: Our hope for you is firm, for we know that as you share in the sufferings, you also share in the encouragement.

Encouragement is such an important part of Christian life, and never more so than now during these times of economic upheaval. As Christians, our faith life can only grow and prosper in community with other Christians, because we need encouragement. And even more so, we need to give encouragement to others and exhort each other to persevere when our lives are difficult and our faith is tested.

I personally have been encouraged by many people, including a number of you readers of these musings. Lately I have also been encouraged by something new I have noticed in both my business and personal life: a sense and a realization I see in many people that we are all in this together. When times are good, it's easy to believe that our own good fortune is the result of our own efforts rather than the gift that it truly is. But in times of distress and uncertainty, we really start to see things more clearly -- that we are dependent first on God, and through God we are dependent on others for every good thing we receive.

In my work, I often talk to people who have lost their jobs. I believe it is so important to help and encourage others in this position -- not only is it the Christian thing to do, it's just good for everybody. And even if I don't have a lead on a job, I try to keep them in mind as openings come across my desk, and at minimum try to encourage them.

I say this not to make myself out to be some hero or saint; this is also good business. But in talking with these people, they tell me others are encouraging them too. People are taking the time to listen and network and re-connect, where maybe before they would not have taken the time.

It's the same in our business development efforts for my company. Those of you that have done business development know how hard and discouraging and fruitless it is much of the time. It's a numbers game, and for every piece of work you win there are a hundred rejections. And yet now what I'm seeing is a new level of compassion and connectedness among the people I talk to.

One of my partners and I have been trying to use LinkedIn to reconnect with everyone we've ever worked with in hopes of getting work. It's become a running joke between us that almost every time we contact someone, they say the same thing in exactly the same way: "Thanks for reaching out to me." It's uncanny, but this little phrase reinforces just how important our human connections are. In "reaching out" to them I have actually encouraged them and made them feel valued, and in acknowledging that gift they have in fact returned the favor.

We may look back on this recession as a very important gift. I spent time with my good friend Don Lahey over a glass or three of French wine last night, and we talked a little bit about hard times and setbacks in our lives. In the moment, and while these unfortunate things are happening to us, they seem absolutely, 100% bad. Yet haven't you ever looked back on something painful that happened to you, and realized that without that painful event, something else beautiful and important in your life could not have occurred? That in fact, the positive event was a direct result of the negative? We are very poor judges of the goodness or badness of particular times in our lives. The same warning that Jesus gives about judging other people could apply just as well to judging the events in our lives.

I believe we are going to come out of this tough time in a much better place than where we started. I don't know if that will be next month, next quarter, or next year. Through this affliction God is encouraging us. He loves us so very much, more than any of us can grasp. And so I want to encourage each of you, no matter how good or bad your personal situation may be right now, to keep your chin up and your eyes open to the good that God is bringing forth out of these dark times.

Political Situation in Honduras

2009-07-09T15:27:00.000-07:00

Having returned just over three months ago from Honduras, I have been trying to stay abreast of the political situation there after the ouster of (former) President Jose Manuel Zelaya on June 28. By most accounts Senor Zelaya was not exactly a paragon of virtue -- reportedly a corrupt and left-leaning disciple (or puppet) of Hugo Chavez of Venezuela. He had defied the country's Supreme Court in attempting to go ahead with an illegal referendum to change the constitution so that -- surprise! -- he could stay in power.

That said, it's not exactly clear that the way he was removed from office was by the books either, and it certainly harkened back to the banana republic days of military coups. So I'm not at all clear who to cheer for in this mess, I just keep following events and praying this gets resolved without violence. Apparently one person has been killed, but considering how tense the situation is, I suppose it could be a lot worse. Senor Zelaya should certainly be thankful he is not the lone fatality.

Apparently the Honduran population is split over the situation too, though somewhat more favor the ouster of Senor Zelaya. The Wall Street Journal reports this morning that:

...Honduran media published a CID-Gallup poll that showed 41% of Hondurans said the coup was justified, while 28% were opposed. The survey, conducted between June 30 and July 4, supported anecdotal evidence of anger at Mr. Zelaya. While thousands of Hondurans take to the streets almost daily to protest the ouster, larger crowds often demonstrate in favor of the coup.

"Society is very polarized. We have reached levels of hatred I've never seen before," said Edmundo Orellana, a congressman who formerly served as Mr. Zelaya's defense minister. Mr. Orellana resigned the military position days before the coup because he believed Mr. Zelaya was breaking the law. But in a letter to the congress, he also said Mr. Zelaya's ouster was illegal and that he would refuse to take his legislative seat until Mr. Zelaya was reinstated.

Associated Press
Supporters of ousted Honduran President Manuel Zelaya gather at a roadblock protest on the outskirts of Tegucigalpa on Thursday. Officials began talks on the political future of the country.

At the same time it is very strange to think that all the fine people we worked with in March are living through this tense and scary time. Are they choosing sides? Is this situation a source of division among them? It pains me to think of it. I pray that they are safe and remain that way.

I recently received an email from Margaret Rubiera, who had spoken with the country director for Habitat Honduras. Things are indeed tense, he reports. The provisional government is apparently restricting and filtering the news. There were three Habitat build teams working in Honduras, and all three had to leave. According to Margaret:

"For the moment, of course, no groups are going, and the work that Habitat can do is also very limited. It is an unnerving and very troubling time for the country. I wish I thought there were an easy and clear solution, but there is none. Zelaya was a corrupt, manipulative president and was following way too closely in the footsteps of Chavez of Venezuela. Still, the way that they deposed and evicted him has left everyone up in arms. The military is now breaking up demonstrations with force and the police are arresting a large number of people without justifiable cause. It especially breaks my heart to think of the economic sanctions being placed on that country. We must pray that a viable solution will be found soon. Alberto said that his biggest concern now is for the safety of all Habitat employees. He is not allowing anyone to go out “in the field” to check on local affiliates for fear of violence and problems on the roads. Some funding has been cut off and they fear more financial repercussions. There are rigid curfews in place, which were changed yesterday without warning from 10 pm to 6:30 pm. That is affecting workers all over the country. Stores and banks have been closing extra early to avoid problems with the variable curfew issue.

That must have been more than a little scary for those teams, but thankfully they are all fine. I'm not sure the same can be said for Habitat and for prospective homeowners. At minimum, their work is now suspended indefinitely, but if this drags on I fear Habitat will be hurt badly in Honduras. Right now I have no idea if or how current events will affect trips being planned for early 2010.

At least the two sides have started talks, even if they both seem intransigent. Again from the WSJ:

Ousted Honduran President Manuel Zelaya and the men who kicked him out of power nearly two weeks ago began mediated talks Thursday in a bid to end the Central American country's biggest political crisis in decades.
Even as negotiations over the future of Honduras's government began in Costa Rica, however, hopes were dim for a quick solution. Mr. Zelaya has said the only solution is his return to power, while Roberto Micheletti, the man who replaced him as president, says everything can be discussed except Mr. Zelaya's return as president.
The talks will test the diplomatic skills of mediator Óscar Arias, Costa Rica's president, who won the 1987 Nobel Peace Prize for his contributions to ending civil wars in the region.

For now I ask you all to pray for a peaceful end to this crisis, and the rapid resumption of Habitat's work in Honduras.

Restless

2009-07-06T15:26:00.000-07:00

It's late Monday afternoon, and I have been at our cabin in Ashe County since last Thursday. For weeks we had planned to spend the weekend of July 4th here with my brother and his family, since it's normally the start of blueberry season and there's a lot going on. I arrived early so I'd have some time to myself, and planned to stay through the following Wednesday. That way I'd have a couple of days of solitude on the back end too.

Needless to say, things have not worked out as I imagined. Not in a bad way, mind you -- it's been a nice weekend, especially spending time with my nieces, Catherine and Grace. It seemed like a lot happened during the day work-wise on Thursday, then Steve arrived with the girls Thursday night. Pat and Sarah arrived early Friday, and we were off to the races. Dinners on the deck, the Christmas in July festival in West Jefferson, fishing, blueberry picking, wine drinking, and a lot of good eats. Dan arrived Saturday, fresh from a mission trip to Jamaica with Jesse and Hunter. The weather was great (till Sunday) -- low 50s at night and right about 70 during the day. Not bad for July in North Carolina.

Yesterday was more mellow, since we had off-and-on rain, and then Steve, Sarah and the girls left to return to The Real World. Another mellow, rainy morning today, and then Pat & Dan left. So today I finally got the solitude I thought I came here for.

It rained again, off and on, until early afternoon, and it was foggy until a few hours ago. It's always quiet here, but when it's foggy and overcast (or snowy), it's silent. No matter how many times I've been up here by myself, it's still a little unnerving for it to be so quiet.

And so I have been restless all day. I've had things to do for work, and a few things to do around here, but basically I've mostly been lost, kind of confused. I'd think of something I needed to do, maybe something involving tools, go down to the storage room to get what I needed...then stand there asking myself, what did I come in here for? I've just not been able to settle down and concentrate all day.

A week or so ago I thought I wanted time up here to be alone and have quiet time to pray without interruption. Now I had that time, and I couldn't settle down. I'd think about praying and then get distracted by some other thought or activity, and prayer would go out the window. I have spent the day being called gently by God to spend some quiet time, and I have been running away.

The sun finally came out a while ago and dried the furniture on the deck. It's not really sunny, but there are peeks of sun in between the clouds and it hasn't rained in a while. I finally stopped running away, and sat down on the glider, which is my favorite Prayer Chair. I closed my eyes and tried to pray. Then Moose wouldn't settle down - he'd pace around then finally lie down, then two minutes later he'd walk over to another place and lay down. Then the "chattering monkeys" that Henri Nouwen writes about started up -- you know, all the thoughts, to do lists, people, and things that spring to mind as soon as you still yourself. This has been the story for the last three months -- when I finally made the time to pray, I couldn't bring myself to truly connect.

But this time I was determined. This time I was not going to run away from the Lord, I was going to run away from the monkeys, and before long I felt the first peace I'd had all day. Maybe I should try this more often...

Insight

2009-07-02T14:04:00.000-07:00

My posts of late have been few and far between, though I have occasionally written to explain some of the reasons for my lack of inspiration. There have been glimmers of re-awakening, occasional showers to relieve my drought, and I have tried my best to soldier on as best I could. But the writing did not come, or at least did not come easily.

I have tried to understand what was happening to me and why. I have tried to pray, and for the most part just try to listen without an agenda as Fr. Louie had directed. But mostly I just tried to be open to what God was trying to do through me, even though I often felt lost and disoriented spiritually. But in the past week or so I have been reminded of reading that when asking hard questions, especially spiritual ones, you don't really "get" an answer. Instead, little by little, even without knowing it, you grow into the answer.

And so I have gradually grown into what turns out to be two answers. The first is simple, as I might have known it would be, and the insight lies within the proverb "absence makes the heart grow fonder." All the time I felt removed from Christ I also felt such a longing for reunion. I had taken his constant felt presence for granted. But I think the insight and the lesson is that this time has made me realize, on an emotional rather than intellectual level (since I so often live in my head rather than my heart), just how much I really love Jesus Christ. That love has been there, certainly, and has even grown over time, but it took this time away for it to penetrate my thick head and stony heart.

Which leads me to insight #2. All this time I have been trying to untie this Gordian knot all by myself -- just mano a mano with The Big Guy. And all this time I have been surrounded by loving and generous friends and family members who would gladly help me if I had only reached out. As I have often read, Christianity is a faith that can only be practiced in community. That is so that we can help, encourage, and admonish each other, especially during the rough patches.

Lucky for me, others including some of you, dear readers, have encouraged me. Three people have recently asked me about this blog, noting my lack of posts and telling me how much they got out of it. Then I got this via email yesterday which I share in part, anonymously...

...I too have experienced times of spiritual drought and find it so hard to pray while in them. Often the best I can do is simply pray, “O Sacred Heart of Jesus, help me place my trust in you” and “Remove from me my stony heart and fill me with a heart burning with the fires of your divine love.” I have been in that place for the past couple of weeks ....I know that this time will pass and my heart will once more feel the flame of Christ’s love and I sometimes think God does this just so that we truly appreciate it when the drought has passed and the rain once again begins to fall.

I hope to see you and Pat tomorrow night ... I also hope to find the time to read your blog more often and to listen to God speaking to me through you. It is truly a gift for which I am so grateful. Thank you dear friend!

With that kind of encouragement, how can I not write?

So thanks to all of you who have hung in there with me and encouraged me. I think I'll be writing more from here on out...

Honduras Update + Plans for Next Year

2009-06-05T15:25:00.000-07:00

At the conclusion of our Habitat build trip to Honduras, I thought we might have some funds left over from our trip expenses to donate to Habitat Honduras, Hogar de Niñas, and Sisters of Charity orphanage. Alas, Lisa has let me know that for all intents and purposes there is nothing left to send. The stash of lempira I brought back apparently will become pocket money for the next leader. Fortunately the Greensboro Catholic Partnership (which spwned our trip in the first place) had already sent nearly $5000 as part of its tithing commitment.

The good news is that members of the team responded to the call for donations for Hogar de Niñas with some very nice contributions. Additionally Habitat had some funds from a prior trip to add, and we ended up sending $6,600 to Sr. Dimora Lopez for the girls (h/t to Miguel Rubiera for being our courier and braving a 7.1 magnitude earthquake to deliver the money!). Surely it is a godsend for them to get that much unrestricted cash. She had hoped to hire a full-time custodian, which cost about $4500 per year, so she’s got enough to hire one now. Thank you all for your generosity!
Several team expressed interest in going back next year, and expressed interest in me leading again. I am trying to discern with the help of the Holy Spirit whether leading a trip in 2010 is what I’m being called to do. I have had discussions with Habitat Greensboro, Global Village and Margaret Rubiera of Habitat Durham about dates and locations, and things seem a little murky right now.
By early 2010, the development we helped build, called Shimishal, will be built out. The Habitat affiliate in Santa Rosa does not have another large piece of land, so it looks like from here on out they will be building on infill lots through the city. What that means for future Santa Rosa teams is that they will have to split up each day and go to different sites.
The one set of dates I tried to reserve was March 5-14, which lines up with spring break for most NC colleges. Obviously we were fortunate to have Claire and Megan and Dan, and they were brave to skip a week of school. It would be a lot easier to attract college students with spring break dates. Unfortunately Durham already had those dates locked up for Santa Rosa.

So the choices are – lead a trip to Santa Rosa at some other time, lead a trip to a different location at spring break time, or possibly join the Durham trip as a team member. I also understand that Gerard plans to lead a trip to La Ceiba in January, so that is another option. My heart is pulling me to Santa Rosa (I made a promise, after all), but my head is telling me we won’t be building there forever, maybe it’s time to move on. It’s a stalemate I will leave to the Holy Spirit to break. I’ll know by the end of July, and you will know soon after.

That said, and knowing that the Holy Spirit often works through others, I would welcome your thoughts, opinions and encouragement in trying to discern which way to go.

River of Life

2009-05-22T05:52:00.000-07:00

Last evening I went fishing for the first time this year. Normally by the end of May I would have gone a number of times, so this is highly unusual, though not inconsistent with my spiritual drought. For me there is a strong connection between fishing and spirituality. The act of fishing, the setting, the water itself, and the physical touching of these rarely-seen creatures all contribute to an immensely healing and nourishing experience. I have missed fishing more than I realized.

I am writing from our cabin in Ashe County, NC, so the easiest place to wet a line from here is in the South Fork of the New River, which is reputed to be the second oldest river on Earth after the Nile. The drought of the last two years has been hard on the river. At one point last summer it had dwindled to a fraction of its normal flow, and the water was so shallow that some kind of river-weed grew and almost choked whole stretches. It was too low to float, too low to fish, and kind of sad to behold.

But this spring the rains have been bountiful, and for the first time in two years all of western NC is out of drought. It's been six weeks since we've been up here, and it is incredible the feeling of life everywhere -- it's hard to adequately describe how green everything is. But the effect of the spring rains on the river is most impressive. All but the biggest rocks are covered, and water runs from bank to bank with an energy and vibrancy I'd forgotten. The water is not as clear as it was during the drought, but clear enough to be pretty.

As I parked my car along Cox Road, I could feel the moist cool air and hear the low murmur of the river as I looked for a place to begin. The place I selected was not the one I had in mind when I left the cabin, but it seemed inviting. Why not try a few casts there? I tossed a gold Panther Martin spinner out in the current and reeled it back slowly. On the second cast, I hooked up with a small but feisty redeye bass -- they have the body of a bream and the head of a smallmouth bass, with blood-red eyes.

I thanked God for this fish. It has been my practice for some time now to offer thanks for the first fish I catch, because that first fish means that today I will not be skunked. Each fish is a gift, and even the little ones are fun. This one struck like a ton of bricks, and it wasn't until I had him almost all the way in that I realized he was only maybe eight inches long.

I can still remember the first time it occurred to me to give thanks in that special moment after the first catch. I was standing in the middle of Helton Creek on a chilly morning, having just caught a nice trout. Remembering that St. Peter was a fisherman, I also recalled how the Lord after His resurrection had directed Peter and the other disciples (who had been skunked the previous night) to cast their net over the right side of the boat, and how they caught 153 large fish. Right in the middle of the creek I said a prayer of thanks, and have been doing it ever since. Interestingly I can count on one hand the number of times since then that I've been skunked.

Fishing reconnects me to both the earth and to God in a mysterious way. Part of it is that all my thoughts and cares seem to travel down the line into the water, where they dissipate harmlessly. My mind is amazingly blank when I fish -- somehow the low-intensity thought process of fishing expands to fill my brain pan. Once my mind is no longer preoccupied with worry and care, my senses are filled by visual beauty, gentle sounds, earthy smells and the tactile sense of the rod in my hand and the earth under my feet. The rod becomes a living thing, or like a divining rod telling me where the fish are. After a hookup, the rod is electric with the connection between me and the fish and the unique vibrations of a fish on the line.

Moving on from my first spot, I got another strong strike and a solid hookup. Playing the fish in the current, I could tell this one was bigger. What kind of fish would it be? That's part of the mystery, especially in the river. Would it be another redeye, or maybe a smallmouth, or even a nice trout? Though "officially" there are no trout in the South Fork, you do catch them occasionally -- either refugees from a trout-water tributary or perhaps one that just lives in a deep dark pool near a chilly spring in the bottom of the river.

Alas, this one was a hornyhead. The first time I caught a hornyhead it was alarming, because these chubs can get to be a pound or so, and they look like some kind of radioactive mutant with their spiky bump on the forehead. They will also talk to you sometimes, like catfish will, with a deep throaty er-er-er sound. This was a fine specimen, as hornyheads go, and he put up a noble fight. I threw him back, as I did with all the fish I caught this day.

Normally I don't count how many fish I catch. In fact I intentionally try to forget. that way it gives you lots of honest leeway when conveying to friends and family how you did that day. You can say, "quite a few" or "ten or twelve" or "it must have been about twenty, but I wasn't counting", and you'll be covered. Because you really don't know. But last night I caught five -- two redeye bass, two bream, and Mr. Hornyhead.

By this time the shadows stretched all the way across the river, and the evening quiet had descended upon this beautiful valley like a blessing. Where the sun still shone it looked clean and warm and golden, the sky was clear and blue. Dinner on the deck with Pat beckoned, along with a nice bottle of wine, so I clambered up the bank and walked toward my car. My thanks to God had returned as a blessing.

Spiritual Dryness

2009-05-18T06:29:00.000-07:00

I see that it has been three weeks exactly since my last post, so I apologize to any of you who may have checked in on Emmaus Road during that time. My lack of writing seems to be an accurate reflection of my spiritual state of mind and heart during that time, as it seems like a bit of a spiritual drought.

Looking back I can see now how completely I emptied my tank in Honduras and the week or so afterward. I even described it to Jesse as "mission fatigue". The last straw was my frustrated attempt to establish dates for another trip to Honduras in 2010. I will just say that Habitat has not made it easy, and I'll leave it at that. And so by the end of April my spiritual resources had run dry, and I was at a loss as to how to replenish them.

It was not for lack of trying that the drought continued. I prayed and celebrated the Eucharist as usual, and even went on retreat with the Men's Group the last weekend of April. The retreat was a great experience and a good soaking rain, to stay with the meteorological metaphor. But it did not break the drought.

As I was leaving the retreat, I had a brief conversation with Fr. Louie, wherein I shared my experiences and frustrations with Habitat. I did not and still do not know whether God is calling me to lead another mission there, or whether these frustrations meant that it was time to move on. He sized me up in an instant, as he has an uncanny way of doing, and told me to spend time praying with no agenda -- to listen.

And so I have, yet for all my attempts at listening I still had no answers. It was not as if I received nothing -- even in a drought it rains sometimes, just not enough. I was feeling dead inside, not depressed or angry or even frustrated, just kind of dead. I could sometimes make a connection to God but I could not maintain it or achieve it reliably.

At the same time I became acutely aware of the rapid passage of time. I've actually had some very good experiences in that period. All three sons and Hunter were here for dinner on Mother's Day (Emily was with her family), which is a rare and blessed event, yet it was like an instant. Work has been good, and I have enjoyed the spring weather, planting a garden and working in the yard. Yet each day seemed like just a heartbeat.

I am not one to pine over such things or about growing older. I know that this sense of the rapid progression of time is probably part of getting older, and I accept that. But as I lay awake waiting for sleep, I have longed in a new way for the day when I finally see Christ's face, with the feeling that the faster time slides by the sooner that day will come.

Don't get me wrong, this is not some morose death wish kind of feeling. It is nothing but positive and uplifting, a new and more sure footing for my faith that one day I will be united with Christ. And that is new, and really kind of remarkable in the context of the "drought".

Saints and spiritual writers like St. Francis de Sales and Henri Nouwen have spoken about spiritual "dryness" and "aridity", and it's interesting that they choose the same metaphor. Mother Theresa went for more than fifty years without feeling the presence of God, even in the Eucharist, and still held tightly to her faith (now that's a drought!). Some have called this "the dark night of the soul", though that would be a somewhat melodramatic and overwrought description for my situation. Still I have been in a new and strange place these three weeks.

Last night though I had an Emmaus Moment. On my way to Mass, I guess I was thinking about my state of soul, and for some reason I put a song on my iPod in the car that I just bought -- "He Leadeth Me" performed by Sara Watkins (formerly of Nickel Creek). I'm not sure why I chose this song or even bought it in the first place, except that she has written and performed other spiritual songs I really liked (see The Hand Song from the first Nickel Creek CD). The song is performed in a very simple and spare style on guitar and violin:

1. He leadeth me:  O blessed thought! 
 O words with heavenly comfort fraught! 
 Whate'er I do, where'er I be,
 still 'tis God's hand that leadeth me. 

Refrain:
 He leadeth me, he leadeth me,
 by his own hand he leadeth me;
 his faithful follower I would be,
 for by his hand he leadeth me.

2. Sometimes mid scenes of deepest gloom,
 sometimes where Eden's bowers bloom,
 by waters still, o'er troubled sea,
 still 'tis his hand that leadeth me. 
 (Refrain)

3. Lord, I would place my hand in thine,
 nor ever murmur nor repine;
 content, whatever lot I see,
 since 'tis my God that leadeth me. 
 (Refrain)

4. And when my task on earth is done,
 when by thy grace the victory's won,
 e'en death's cold wave I will not flee,
 since God through Jordan leadeth me. 
 (Refrain)

And that's when it hit me that indeed He leadeth me, even when I feel I am in drought. When she sang "by His own hand he leadeth me" I felt the drought ending. What an image. So once again I am reminded of how Cleopas and the other disciple must have felt as Jesus broke bread and blessed it, ending their spiritual drought.

Hard Questions About Dr. Zinkhan

2009-04-27T08:56:00.000-07:00

"The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world he did not exist." So says Verbal Kint in the movie The Usual Suspects. Events in Athens, Georgia over the weekend have me thinking about the existence of Satan again.

I spent the better part of six years in Athens from 1976-1982 getting an ABJ in Journalism and a Master of Marketing Research (MMR) degree in the very department from which George Zinkhan had taught since 1994. I've met George several times at various events there, including board meetings for the MMR program. There was to be a board meeting this week that I was scheduled to attend. Now it has been cancelled.

For the most part the media descriptions of Dr. Zinkhan are accurate relative to my experience. Introverted, socially awkward, eccentric, brilliant, disheveled in appearance, odd in behavior. He is exactly the kind of person that, when something like this happens, people say, "Oh, yeah, something was not right with that guy."

But there is a big difference between being eccentric and killing three people in cold blood.

Which makes me wonder for the umpteenth time: does Satan really exist? Because it seems to me at times like this that there is something that enters a person and tells them that some outrageous, barbaric act is really something that is going to help them make things better or set things right. Maybe that's what happened to Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold. Jeffrey Dahmer. It's a long list.

Sometimes I wonder if we don't hide behind science -- especially psychology -- to explain the supernatural. There's no question in my mind that science and in particular psychology are more good than bad. But I think we go too far sometimes when we think we can explain everything from the weather and climate to why events like this murder happen. It can become a vain attempt to wrap our arms around the immensity that is God, and our arms will never be long enough.

Peter 2.0

2009-04-16T13:16:00.000-07:00

A while back I wrote about Peter and his incredible metamorphosis over the time from when Jesus called him to his death in Rome years later. Before the Resurrection, we have a number of incidents featuring Peter in a none-too-complimentary light:

In the readings from the last two weeks from Acts we see a whole new Peter -- Peter 2.0:

Boldly condemning the House of Israel and people of Jerusalem on the day of Pentecost for Jesus' death, and calling them to repentance, baptism, and conversion. The people he called out were the same people the disciples tried to lock out in the upper room ("for fear of the Jews").
Curing the cripple at the Temple in Jesus' name
Again condemning the children of Israel, and calling them to conversion
Arrested by the Sadducees, questioned by "their leaders, elders, and scribes...Annas the high priest, Caiaphas, John, Alexander, and all who were of the high-priestly class." There he boldy testifies to the Risen Christ and forgiveness of sins through Him.

For me, it is precisely because of Peter's all-too-human weaknesses as Jesus' disciple that I find his example so compelling once he assumes leadership of The Way.

Burning Hearts

2009-04-15T05:30:00.000-07:00

Two months ago I started this blog by explaining its name, Emmaus Road, in a post that touched on the Gospel story of the apostles' encounter with the Risen Christ while walking on the Road to Emmaus. That same story is split between yesterday's and today's Gospel readings.

As I noted then, so often we do not recognize Christ's presence at times in our lives, especially times of trial or hardship until those times are over. Yet if we are attuned to the life of the spirit, we have the ability to access Christ's presence anytime, anywhere.

I was reminded last night of what you might call the Emmaus effect -- not being cognizant of how powerfully God is acting and teaching and loving us in our lives until something or someone opens our eyes, and we suddenly see how His works in a string of events has led you to a new and wonderful place.

Last night's eye-opener was re-reading a Valentine card from Pat that I have kept on my dresser, coincidentally since just before I started this blog. That opened my mind to wonderful changes three areas in my life, ranging from the trivial to the critically important, that have occurred recently and over a period of time.

On the trivial side, last year at this time I had just had my tennis rating bumped to 3.5 from 3.0, which was great...except that I lost every single USTA match I had in the Men's and Senior Men's league. All of them. 0 for about 12. We're not talking blowouts either -- about half went to the third set tiebreaker. Choking.

Now I'm not super-competitive, but a losing streak like that grinds you down. And then I only won one match over the summer. So I have done some soul-searching about why I play and how I play, as well as my technique. Mostly I realized that when you've been kicked like that over an extended period, you don't have anything to prove any more, nor do you have anything to lose. So you could say I'm a lot more loose.

So far this year I'm 3-1. So I thank God I am out of the slump. I've watched two different teams choke against my partner and I the way I choked last year. I am empathetic, but most of all I am thankful to be watching it happen to the other guy for a change. I can see now that my losing streak led directly to my new found winning ways, because it changed my heart, attitude, and approach.

The next area was in business, where until recently it had been about six months since I won a new piece of business. I coasted for a while on stuff already in the shop, but through it all there were two huge studies that were approved then cancelled, another even bigger one that we were a finalist for -- then that project was cancelled. We also had a promising client that we just couldn't seem to get anything going with. This also grinds you down -- even worse, because in our company if there's no work there's no income.

Now I've won two large projects in two weeks, and I have two others that are 90%+ probabilities. Looking back, that tough period laid the groundwork for these new successes in numerous ways, and set up our little company for continued prosperity even after this work is finished. More importantly I have a renewed sense of how much every good material thing -- work, projects, income -- is such a gift from God. No matter how smart I am or how hard I work, without God's love and grace and gifts I will not be successful.

Last but most importantly, the card reminded me instantly of perhaps the greatest gift I've been given, and that is my wife, Pat. About eight years ago, we went through a very difficult time in our relationship, serious enough that I questioned whether we really had a future together. It did not look promising.

During that period I prayed as hard as I knew how, and it was probably as close as I'll ever come to knowing what Christ went through the night before he died. I prayed for the survival of our marriage. I prayed for God to change me. In fact I prayed for God to break my heart of stone, and for the first time in my life I prayed that His will for me be done. I prayed and it scared me to death.

My prayers were answered in every sense -- not in a lightning-bolt-from-heaven way, but in an Emmaus Road kind of way. I saw signs along the way, and at times my heart was burning inside me, even though I didn't understand what was happening. He changed me. He changed us.

The note inside the Valentine's card said (in part), "I think things are the best they've ever been between the two of us, and I think it's going to continue that way, too." I couldn't agree more, but last night the thought struck me that in the fall of 2001 I could not have imagined a day in the future when that would be true.

And it occurs to me now that late in the day on the first Good Friday, none of the apostles could imagine a day when they would see Jesus alive again. So that was their state of mind as Cleopas and the other disciple walked along the road to Emmaus "conversing and debating" about the events of the last three days. Then Jesus came to them, not in a lightning-bolt-from-heaven way, but in an Emmaus Road kind of way, and with burning hearts "he was made known to them in the breaking of the bread."

Catching Up

2009-04-12T12:43:00.000-07:00

Well Holy Week has flown by, and now it's afternoon on Easter Sunday. Early in the week I had visions of lots to write about, but life got in the way as it has an annoying habit of doing sometimes. It's all good though -- much to be thankful for, and much to think about.

Wednesday night we attended a Seder Supper at the home of Jim & Abby Donnelly. This is a long-standing tradition with them, and we were blessed to be a part of it this year for the first time. Jim is Catholic and Abby is Jewish, and so they celebrate the Seder with a somewhat ecumenical flair, recognizing both faith traditions while following perhaps the longest standing rituals in human history. According to our friends at Wikipedia:

Families and friends gather around the table on the nights of Passover to read one of the many versions of the Haggadah, the story of the Israelite exodus from Egypt. Seder customs include drinking of four cups of wine, eating matza and partaking of symbolic foods placed on the Passover Seder Plate. With a Haggadah serving as a guide, the Seder is performed in much the same way all over the world.
The Seder is integral to Jewish faith and identity. If not for the Exodus, as explained in the Haggadah, the Jewish people would still be slaves in Egypt. Therefore, the Seder is an occasion for praise and thanksgiving and for re-dedication to the idea of liberation. The Seder goes on until late at night, with the participants reading the Haggadah, studying the meaning of various passages, and singing special Passover songs.

The Seder is an intergenerational family ritual. While many Jewish holidays revolve around the synagogue, the Seder is conducted in the family home...It is customary to invite guests, especially strangers and the needy...The Seder as family-based ritual is derived from a verse in the Bible: Vehigadta levincha' bayom hahu leymor ba'avur zeh asah Adonay li betzeyti miMitzrayim - "And you shall tell it to your son on that day, saying, 'Because of this God did for me when He took me out of Egypt'" (Exodus 13:8). The words and rituals of the Seder are a primary vehicle for the transmission of the Jewish faith from grandparent to child, and from one generation to the next.

I had attended one Seder, and not a very Jewish one, at the Catholic Center at the University of Georgia while I was in school there...25+ years ago. While not a family event in the strictest sense (the Donnelly's had invited 15-20 friends...I didn't count), it was nonetheless an awesome celebration. The Donnelly's are both gracious hosts and patient teachers.

There were two things in particular I was struck by during the evening. One is just how rich the tradition and the ritual are, full of history and symbolism, and requiring the full participation of every family member and guest. While I was familiar with the Bible story of the Passover and the history around it, I did not realize how deeply interwoven the ideas of liberation and freedom for all people were into the fabric of the tradition.

The other was the immense respect Jim and Abby show for each other's faith tradition and for each other. I was touched by the whole way they handled the connection between Judaism and Christianity, because the Seder is one of the deepest connections between the two faiths. The Last Supper was a Passover Seder Supper, and I see now that in Christ's celebration of liberation in the Seder he was also celebration our liberation from sin through His death and Resurrection.

Thursday night I attended Holy Thursday Mass at St. Paul's. Relative to some I have seen, it was a relatively stripped-down version with no foot washing. And yet hearing the story of Jesus washing the feet of the disciples was moving to me in a new way. I'm still working on the idea and practice of following Christ through serving others. It does not come easily or naturally to me, but I'm working on it. Maybe I should read that story more often.

Pat and I then left for our cabin in Ashe County right after Mass. We have guests using the cabin the following weekend, and it was badly in need of spring cleaning. Friday morning, though, I had an opportunity to pray outside on the deck before the rain came. For me, that is the best place on earth to pray (other than maybe St. Francis Springs) and it was wonderful.

We passed Saturday and Sunday cleaning and doing errands, enjoying each other's company and a few glasses of wine along the way. Another of my favorite things at the cabin is enjoying a good rain storm. The way our cabin is built you can hear every single rain drop, and the effect when the tempo of the rain is just right can be magical, especially if you listen to a good rain song like "Sit & Listen to the Rain" by Whiskeytown or "Riders on the Storm" by The Doors. We listened to both.

This morning we were up and out of there by 9 AM so I could make it back to lector at the 12:00 Easter Mass. More later...almost time for dinner with the family, and I have preparations to make.

Have a happy and blessed Easter season!

Holy Week, Part 1

2009-04-10T12:37:00.000-07:00

It's been a busy Holy Week already.

Wednesday afternoon I attended the 12:10 Mass at the Franciscan Center in downtown Greensboro. I had not been to Mass there since last Lent, but it was a joy as always. I estimated there were about 100 people crammed into the little storefront at 215 N. Greene Street. What a tight little community it is, composed of people I imagine from every parish in Greensboro. I saw a number that I recognized from St. Paul's, including Sue Fullam from the Honduras trip and my friend Maureen Musci who sits in our little "neighborhood" at 5 PM Sunday Mass. At communion I noticed there were quite a few non-Catholics as well who received a blessing in lieu of communion.

As I looked over the community, it struck me as different somehow. There were many elderly people, which is not unusual for a daily Mass, but also a number who were sick or crippled, people from the streets, well-to-do people and professionals. Not many young people -- everybody here had some serious mileage on them. But I could not help but be struck by the atmosphere of unusual love and tolerance and trust and welcome.

Fr. Louie Canino celebrated the Mass as usual, and in truth most of these people come here for him, both because he loves each one of us so much, and because he feeds us spiritually -- a veritable banquet. Each Wednesday Fr. Louie travels to Greensboro from the St. Francis Springs Prayer Center in Stoneville just to celebrate this Mass.

Wednesday's Gospel centered around Matthew's account of Judas' betrayal of Jesus. In his homily Fr. Louie asked the community to share any times in their lives when they had suffered a great hurt. I was astounded by the response. Over the next ten minutes or so perhaps 20-25 different people shared the gravest hurts of their lives, the kinds of things people only share with family and close friends. "The death of my husband," "my son's addiction to drugs," "my husband's battle with PTSD," "the death of my son," "betrayal by a trusted friend," "the death of my wife"...and on and on. It was a litany of human suffering.

Fr. Louie then related their suffering that Jesus must have felt during his Passion. Not just the physical suffering, which was immense, but emotional hurt of His betrayal and denial by His disciples, and the fact that he was left to suffer these things utterly abandoned. It's hard to miss the physical suffering in the accounts of the Passion, but I had never considered how much greater was the emotional hurt.

Christ gave us an example of how to process this kind of hurt, Fr. Louie said:

First you have to own it -- not gloss over it or deny it, but truly own it.
Then you have to be angry. While we often think of anger as bad or negative, it's OK to be angry about something that really is bad. It's healthy and healing.
After that you must grieve for what's been lost.
Finally you must make it redemptive -- you have to find a way to bring forth goodness and growth from your hurt in order to move forward again.

That is the model Jesus gave us through his Passion and Resurrection. I plan to explore this a bit more from Easter on, but Fr. Louie's homily foreshadowed the major theme of Easter.

Peter

2009-04-07T13:37:00.000-07:00

I think that of all the saints and various characters in the Bible, Peter is the one with whom I identify the most. That is not quite the same as saying he is my favorite, just that he is like me in some important ways.

For in Peter we have the Patron Saint of the Enneagram Six (a counterphobic one at that), a man whose "issues" from a psychoanalytic perspective always seem to revolve around fear vs. courage (see walking on water) and disbelief vs. faith. The story of his personal growth over the course of the gospels, and especially from the Passion of Christ through his death in Rome, is truly inspiring to me. The same Peter who denied Christ three times is transformed by the experience of Jesus' death and resurrection from a blustery, boastful, fearful man to one animated and made fearless by intimate knowledge of the Risen Christ.

In Tuesday's gospel, Peter makes a boast that will break his heart (and Jesus') in the early morning hours of Good Friday:

Peter said to him,
"Master, why can I not follow you now?
I will lay down my life for you."
Jesus answered, "Will you lay down your life for me?
Amen, amen, I say to you, the cock will not crow
before you deny me three times."

Last night at Mass we heard the story washing the feet of the disciples in the gospel of John, and once again Peter is a featured character:

He came to Simon Peter, who said to him,
"Master, are you going to wash my feet?"
Jesus answered and said to him,
"What I am doing, you do not understand now,
but you will understand later."
Peter said to him, "You will never wash my feet."
Jesus answered him,
"Unless I wash you, you will have no inheritance with me."
Simon Peter said to him,
"Master, then not only my feet, but my hands and head as well."

Peter in one brief encounter ricochets between refusal to let Christ wash his feet to wanting Him to wash him all over. He is our stand-in, representing our lack of comprehension of what Christ has done and is doing for us.

And in John's account of the Passion for today, Peter is featured in two separate incidents. When the mob comes to arrest Jesus, Peter lashes out in his zeal to protect Jesus:

Then Simon Peter, who had a sword, drew it,
struck the high priest's slave, and cut off his right ear.

While Peter's heart is in the right place, he once again does not understand what has to take place. Not only that, but he reacts in a decidedly un-Christ-like way. In that he represents and anticipates so many of the abuses of the Church and others in using violence ostensibly in defense of Christ.

Then comes Peter's denial in the courtyard of the praetorium where Jesus was being questioned by Pilate. He denies twice that he even knows Jesus, and then:

One of the slaves of the high priest,
a relative of the one whose ear Peter had cut off, said,
"Didn't I see you in the garden with him?"
Again Peter denied it.
And immediately the cock crowed.

Luke's account is heartbreaking at this dramatic moment:

When a maid saw him seated in the light, she looked intently at him and said, "This man too was with him."
: But he denied it saying, "Woman, I do not know him."
: A short while later someone else saw him and said, "You too are one of them"; but Peter answered, "My friend, I am not."
: About an hour later, still another insisted, "Assuredly, this man too was with him, for he also is a Galilean."
: But Peter said, "My friend, I do not know what you are talking about." Just as he was saying this, the cock crowed,
: and the Lord turned and looked at Peter; and Peter remembered the word of the Lord, how he had said to him, "Before the cock crows today, you will deny me three times."
: He went out and began to weep bitterly.

When I read this passage I can almost feel the bitter shame of Peter, that in Jesus' greatest hour of need Peter denied that he even knew the Lord. In spite of three years of living with Jesus, being taught by Jesus, indeed being mentored by Jesus to lead the Church, Peter could still do this. And I think I can feel it because I am human, and I know that in spite of my faith and my love of Christ, I am capable of doing exactly the same thing.

It's no accident that Peter is featured prominently in so many of the stories leading up to Jesus death and resurrection, through the early part of Acts of the Apostles. I believe Luke in particular saw Peter as kind of a Biblical Everyman, the embodiment of both the foibles and weakness of humanity and the immense power of redemption through the Resurrection of Jesus Christ. In the Gospels Peter acts out all of the boastful, cowardly things we are capable of. I don't like what I see of myself in the pre-Resurrection Peter. But I can't deny how much like Peter that I am.

But in Peter's experience we also see the immensity of Christ's love and forgiveness, of the power of redemption through the Resurrection. The one incident that encapsulates this is the disciples' encounter with the risen Jesus on the shores of the sea of Tiberius after the Resurrection. After Jesus helps them catch the 153 large fish, and shared bread and fish with them on the shore, he has a remarkable conversation with Peter:

When they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter, "Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?" He said to him, "Yes, Lord, you know that I love you." He said to him, "Feed my lambs."
: He then said to him a second time, "Simon, son of John, do you love me?" He said to him, "Yes, Lord, you know that I love you." He said to him, "Tend my sheep."
: He said to him the third time, "Simon, son of John, do you love me?" Peter was distressed that he had said to him a third time, "Do you love me?" and he said to him, "Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you." (Jesus) said to him, "Feed my sheep.
: Amen, amen, I say to you, when you were younger, you used to dress yourself and go where you wanted; but when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will dress you and lead you where you do not want to go."
: He said this signifying by what kind of death he would glorify God. And when he had said this, he said to him, "Follow me."

This passage is every bit as dramatic and emotional as Peter's earlier denial. Jesus acknowledges Peter's threefold denial, redeems him from his sins and missions him to lead the Church.

The notes in the New American Bible tell us "In these three verses there is a remarkable variety of synonyms: two different Greek verbs for love (see the note on John 15:13); two verbs for feed/tend; two nouns for sheep; two verbs for know. But apparently there is no difference of meaning." It's as if Jesus is saying we are to love Him in every sense of the word, take care of His people in every sense, that his people (sheep) are all people, not just a few.

Through all the aspects of Peter's personality and relationship with Jesus, we have an extraordinary and very human example to follow.

What Now? A Challenge for the Team and Our Supporters

2009-04-06T06:31:00.000-07:00

Now comes the hard part.

Even though it's a big step going on a mission trip, and the trip itself is intense, the fact is that what happens after you come home is the hard part. Now you have seen the way life is for God's people in a faraway place where the material blessings of this life are fewer and harder to come by. You have seen how, in spite of these hardships and how vastly different their lives are, the people in Honduras are still just people, just like us in so many ways. God loves them as much as He loves you, and His light shines through them in such a special way. You cannot help but be affected, to be changed profoundly by the experience if you are open to the call of the Spirit.

Back now for more than a week, "normal" life creeps back into comfortable routine. We have our favorite foods (less rice and beans!), our big TV's, the Final Four, all our friends, our shiny cars and good roads, spring weather, school and work, and our families. Back at Shimishal, a new team is there working alongside Arnoldo, Fernando, Amada, and the rest. All those children are still in their orphanages. Families still struggle to make ends meet, to clothe and feed their families and keep a roof over their heads. The nuns at those orphanages still depend on the support of others, trusting absolutely in God to provide through others the things they need to raise the children in their care.

What will you do differently now that you've been there, now that you know? Will you tell your friends and your family about what you saw, the people you met, the work that's been done and the huge amount of work yet to be done? How the people there need our support, our prayers, as well as our efforts on future teams? Will you witness for them at your church and your office? Will you speak for them? And will you come back?

The emotion of our time there fades bit by bit, and our memories dim with the passage of time. It gets harder to remember names and faces. This is human, and understandable. But I hope you will keep in a little corner of your heart the love that was poured out on you so abundantly by the families at Shimishal and by your teammates.

When I started writing this, I thought I would suggest some ways for you to keep alive the experience of our mission together. But on further reflection I've concluded that each person's response is deeply personal, and in the same way that we each shared our particular gifts while we were there, our response will also reflect the gifts we have received from the Holy Spirit.

What I will do instead is share three things that I will do. First of all, I will lead another trip next March. Several of you asked me to lead another one, and so I will. Leading the trip was a challenge, but one of the most rewarding things I've done. I have requested March 5-14, 2010, which lines up with spring break for many universities in North Carolina. Second, as part of that trip, I have built in an extra day for the team to work at Hogar de Ninas in addition to the five days at the Habitat job site.

Lastly, I am committed to raise $4500 to help Sr. Dimora Lopez hire a full-time custodian at Hogar de Ninas. It was clear in our conversation with her that cleaning and maintenance is a tough issue for her. The vast majority of donations she receives are earmarked for a specific purpose like food, computers, etc. As a consequence she has no money for repairs or maintenance to the building, and trust me, it needs it.

If you are a team member who would like to help, or if you were at all moved by my story on the orphanage Hogar de Ninas, please send whatever support you can to:

Lisa Reynolds
Habitat for Humanity of Greater Greensboro
P O Box 3402
Greensboro, NC 27402

IMPORTANT: Please make the check out to Habitat for Humanity of Greater Greensboro, and put "Hogar de Ninas" on the Memo line of the check. It wouldn't hurt to put a note in there with the check saying that it's for Hogar de Ninas to make sure.

Even as I commit to these small acts of follow-up, I wonder if it is enough of a response to what I saw and felt those nine days. But maybe that's just part of what makes coming back so hard.

In Praise and Thanksgiving for Infrastructure

2009-04-02T12:41:00.000-07:00

There's been a lot of stuff in the press during the debate over the stimulus plan about our aging/crumbling infrastructure in the U.S. Maybe it really is in bad shape, and maybe I'm not the person to say. But I have now seen crumbling infrastructure up close and personal, and by comparison ours looks pretty doggone good.

In fact, I am saying a little prayer of thanksgiving for the blessing of our great infrastructure that is so invisible to us. We really don't understand how good we have it some very basic ways. So let me briefly catalog some things we can be glad we don't have to deal with.

And don't get me wrong, this is not a knock on the country, people, or government of Honduras. It's a developing country with a lot of pressing problems and not a lot of money to solve them. Luis mentioned to us that people come there all the time acting like Honduras is the ecological equivalent of Chernobyl, and it's not.

But here is a short list of things I noticed, and why I am thankful.

Roads -- to be honest, the roads are better in Honduras than I expected them to be, but that does not mean they have a great road system. The typical Honduran highway we saw was about three lanes wide, with no lane dividers. Traffic signs are almost non-existent -- speed limit signs only in towns, no signs indicating how far it is to the next town, inconsistent signage on how to get from Point A to Point B, etc. In places there were areas of extensive potholes, and in a couple of places the road had completely washed out and was just gravel and dirt for 100 meters or more. The bottom line is that getting around can be s-l-o-w: the trip from the San Pedro Sula to Santa Rosa de Copan is about 160 km or 100 miles. It took us about 3 1/2 hours.

Effectively there is no enforcement of traffic laws. Sure, the Policia Nacional set up checkpoints randomly, but it's not at all clear what they're looking for, and it's definitely not speeders. People drive insanely, particularly when it comes to passing, and unfortunately a lot of people die as a result. We even saw the aftermath of one fatal accident. I told the team it was just better not to watch when we were passing somebody. We here in the States can complain about speed traps and the like, but today I am thankful we have excellent roads and decent enforcement of traffic laws.

Water -- Everybody knows you can't drink the water. What does that mean? It means that you always need to be acquiring agua purificada -- purified water -- which I imagine is a big business. You can't use tap water to clean your food or make ice. When you take a shower you have to be careful not to swallow any, and you can't even rinse off your toothbrush with it. At Shimishal where we were building, the city supplies water by truck once every three days. People store water in black plastic cisterns on their roofs that double as solar water heaters. You can certainly live this way and live well, but it is inconvenient to say the least. I've been thankful since we got back that I can drink straight from the tap here.

Sewer -- Related to the water issues are the issues with the sewage system. Flush toilets are everywhere, so it's not like you're camping or anything. Occasionally you come across a toilet that has to be flushed by pouring in water from a bucket, but that's no big deal. However the only things that can go in the toilet are water and human waste. Every bathroom has a little trash can next to the toilet for your toilet paper. It's not as gross as it sounds, but it is an adjustment.

Electricity -- There apparently is no electrical code in Honduras, and if there is, it must be either very basic or not enforced. If you look carefully, you see a lot of things that would just never fly in the States. Looking up at the telephone poles carrying the power lines in Santa Rosa, you can see literally dozens of lines on each pole, almost like every house has its own line from the power station. At the Red Frog Tavern in Copan Ruinas, there was a bundle of power lines about a foot off the railing of the balcony. The wiring from the poles to the houses and within the houses (Habitat houses excluded) is equally dodgy. And at our hotel in Copan Ruinas, hot water was supplied by devices affectionately known as "widowmakers" -- on demand water heaters at the shower head. What looked like a 220V line came out of the wall and ran along the pipe to the shower head. The line was connected to the widowmaker using twisted wire and electrician's tape. Also, the power went out twice while we were in Copan Ruinas, and the impression I got was that it was a regular occurrence. Probably somebody taking a shower. ;-)

Solid waste disposal -- Garbage collection as a service or even a concept does not seem to be widely known or practiced. There is no sanitary landfill. You have to arrange for the disposal of your own basura (garbage), and a lot of it gets burned -- plastic, paper, batteries, cans, bottles, whatever -- and sometimes in unlikely places like along the side of the road. Most of Honduras is truly beautiful, and even pristine looking, but parts of San Pedro Sula, Santa Rosa, and even the small towns and individual houses had lots of litter around them.

So as you go through your day today, be aware of and thankful for the many BASIC services we have here that improve our health and quality of life, and remember that it's just not like that in many parts of the world.

What I Did on Spring Break, or How to Build a House Out of Dirt

2009-04-01T13:20:00.000-07:00

Most of the material used to build the houses we worked on in Santa Rosa de Copan came from the actual ground they were built on. It's a pretty fascinating process, and it saves the Santa Rosa affiliate about 25% of the cost of each house vs. using cinder block -- kind of a buy-four-and-get-one-free deal.

Most of the dirt came from digging foundations. Every foundation is dug manually in a sort of hand-to-hand combat using shovels (la pala), pickaxes (la piocha) and a heavy iron digging bar (la barra). Keith and Andrew dug more than one foundation, and that is hard work. The two of them seemed drawn to the toughest jobs, but I never heard a peep of complaint from either.

The footer consists of boulders about the size of a basketball set in layers of concrete. The boulders are quite large when they come off the truck and have to be broken with a sledgehammer.
Then we carry them in wheelbarrows or by hand and place them around the foundation...

...then place them carefully into the footer...

...and cover them with concrete carried by hand in buckets. Lather, rinse, repeat until it's up to the proper height, and presto! A foundation for a new home.

From there it all starts with dirt. But not just any dirt -- it has to be screened to get out big rocks, sticks, and trash. All of the dirt used to make the houses comes from the building site. Basically you just shovel dirt through screens like the one below. It takes a staggering quantity of clean dirt to build one of these houses.

Screened dirt is piled up in measured amounts (X number of wheelbarrow loads) and mixed with lime, cement and a small amount of water. The pile is mixed on the ground entirely by hand, and the resulting mixture looks like damp dirt. I expected the adobe mix to be much wetter, but it's really just damp.

This mix is then packed into block presses which compress the mix under extreme pressure using only manpower and leverage.

When the blocks come out, they are very fragile and are carried by hand to a flat surface where they dry in the sun. It takes about three days to cure the blocks before they are ready for building. In the picture below, team members stand blocks on end after they have dried for a day lying flat. This makes room for more block, and exposes more surface area to the air for drying.

When the blocks are dry, they are carried by wheelbarrow to the house where they'll be used. To lay the blocks to form walls requires lots and lots of mezcla (mortar) which is mixed by hand from screened dirt, sand, water and cement mix. Mixing a big batch of mezcla is one of the first things done every day, and it is hard work. Evidently so hard, in fact, that both Andrew and Bob are totally pooped.

The blocks are laid just like cinder block, with steel rebar running vertically in all corners and wall junctions for reinforcement. Thick steel wire goes in the mortar joint between every third course to tie the walls together. Below Molly and Fernando start a new course of block on an interior wall, while Megan demonstrates how to fill in mortar joints.

After twelve courses of block are laid, we pour a band of steel-reinforced concrete around the top of all the walls. This band also forms the header above all of the doors and windows. This requires rebar cages made of dozens of square wire forms that become the ribs of the cage, holding together four steel rebar rods that are each about ten meters long. Below Molly, Pat and Sue use the bolt cutters to cut wire for the ribs into uniform lengths. Below that, Judy helps one of the Hondurans build a rebar cage.

The cages are then bent to fit the walls and attached to the vertical rebar. Below, Steve and Gerard attach a cage to a wall we built, and Fernando gives the thumbs-up to indicate that everything is "cheke leke" with this cage.

The masons build wooden forms along the top of the wall around the cages to hold the concrete. These cages have to be very stout due to the weight of the concrete, and must hold tight to the wall so that the concrete doesn't leak out. Here one of the masons fits a piece in a bathroom window on the bottom of the form. There was not a single power saw on the entire site, so every board was cut with a hand saw.

After the forms are set up, we mix up an enormous batch of concreto to pour into the form around the rebar cages. Actually I think it took at least two enormous batches to do the trick for each house. Here Matt, Keith, Andrew and Bob are standing around looking like they just mixed that concreto, though probably the Hondurans did most of the work. ;-)

We shovel the concrete into 5-gallon buckets and hoist it up top to pour into the forms. Nacho Libre demonstrates how it's done. He's always stylin' with the do rag or something else on his head...such a slave to fashion.

After the concrete band has hardened, the masons add a couple more courses of block, then build the gable ends of the house to hold the roof.

The roofers then come and put on steel rafters and a corrugated metal roof. (Sorry, no visuals, though I did see it done).

The inside and outside finish on the walls is concrete stucco. Before applying the stucco, however, the walls have to be roughed up to hold the stucco mix. Nacho and Bob got the short straw and did that job for a day or so, which completely covered them in dust. It was one of the nastiest jobs of the week, but they stuck with it and never complained. Below Nacho shows off his mad guns while using the battle axe to rough up the walls.

Here is the finished product, with painted stucco walls, a poured concrete floor, and a few homeowner flourishes added for effect. Each house has two bedrooms, one bath, and a greatroom/kitchen, in a tight little package of 400-450 s.f.

Progress

2009-04-01T09:29:00.001-07:00

When we showed up two years ago at Shimishal, the neighborhood was barely begun. We started four or five houses that year and made progress on several others. Here's what it looked like in March 2007:The house in this picture was the furthest along of any of them, and even by the end of the week it was not yet ready for a roof. There was maybe one more house to the right of those shown here that had some block work down, and maybe a couple more with foundations poured.

A year later the 18 original houses were essentially complete but still unoccupied. That year the Greensboro team worked on digging the water lines to each house, while the Durham team of which I was a part constructed the sewer lines. By the end of our stay, the main street looked like a network of trenches from WWI. It was still a bit like a ghost town.

There were maybe 20 or so of us on that team, a handful of masons, a backhoe operator (my man Walter Machado) and an ever-changing handful of homeowners.

This year the change from the prior year was dramatic. All of the original 18 houses were occupied and the streets were filled with people -- especially kids. Homeowners had made extensive improvments, including workshops, walls, clotheslines and gardens. Homes were decorated, painted, furnished. The place was alive. Indeed those humble structures had been transformed from casa (house) to hogar (home).

The finished house shown here is the same one in the very first picture above from 2007.

On the construction site to the back of the original 18 houses, at least a dozen are under construction. The place is aswarm with activity. Where before there were maybe 10 Honduran laborers to our 20 or so team members, now there are at least as many Hondurans as team members. And since, on average, the Hondurans probably do about twice as much work in a day, the amount of progress is visible from one day to the next. There is a feeling of tremendous energy and enthusiasm about the place. We can all see now very clearly where this is going and how these good people are going to benefit. This is a good place. It is now a real neighborhood.

Mi Amigo Carlos

2009-03-30T14:30:00.000-07:00

Carlos Chicas was our constant companion over our nine-day stay in Honduras. Though ostensibly hired as our bus driver, he became our close friend and an integral part of our team. As I told him in front of the whole team at our rest stop near Entrada, such was his love and care for us that he was like a father to all of us during our stay.

I first met Carlos two years ago on my first trip to Honduras, and he has become the "go-to" guy for every Greensboro Habitat trip since then. While the team two years ago also held him in high regard, my sense was that something special happened this time, a new level of bonding between team and driver.

My friend Carlos is a big, handsome, muscular guy who carries himself with dignity and grace leavened with humility and a dedication to serving others. He absolutely excelled in those duties for which we had hired him -- driving our team S.U.B. (sport utility bus) and keeping us stocked with water, drinks and snacks. We rode in a 25-passenger Toyota bus over open highway, mountain passes, switchbacks, dirt roads, army bases, construction sites, narrow cobblestone streets and wide open spaces. I have watched him turn into 20 foot wide city streets with a cars or trucks parked on the corner, parallel park -- PARALLEL PARK, for crying out loud, with only a foot or two on either end using only his mirrors, and best of all, drive the bus up a mountainous one-lane gravel road to the zip lines, then TURN THE BUS AROUND. I could not believe my eyes. And all the while he's just as cool as a cucumber at the wheel, like he was sitting next to the pool with a cool cerveza.

One thing that distinguishes Carlos is his work ethic. He does not adhere strictly to his job description, but instead often pitches in with working on the job site or helping to fix things. Early on, we busted one of the block-making machines, and he came over and worked on it for about an hour, diagnosing the problem and basically making parts from construction materials around the site to put it back together. He told us a story about how he had taken a group of journalists one time well off the beaten path -- ten miles from the highway -- in his 1958 Toyota Land Cruiser. There he hit a pothole and broke one of the springs on the car. He put together a new part out of a tree root and some barbed wire and drove that way the rest of the weekend without his clients even knowing the car was broken.

Another is his dedication to serving others. He is not content to just sit on the bus and wait fr us to finish our work. Many times throughout the week, Carlos would appear in the heat of the day with a plate of watermelon or cantaloupe slices to give us a break and cheer us up.

You see Carlos is kind of a Honduran Renaissance Man, somebody whose knowledge is both broad and deep in all kinds of unexpected areas, especially related to his native land. He seems to revel in a kind of fatherly or even grandfatherly teaching about the world around us. After visiting a small family cigar-making enterprise, we were waiting for team members to finish making their cigar purchases. Carlos spotted sugar cane growing in the back yard and somewhere came up with a machete which he used to cut down a cane. He then cut chunks for team members and showed how to chew the inner part for a sweet treat.

Later in the week, he was talking with my son Dan and starting making a slingshot -- not the forked-stick kind we think of in the U.S., but the real deal like David used to plant a stone in Goliath's forehead. Using nothing but discarded nylon cord and the cuff of a work glove, he put the slingshot together and was soon hurling stones more than 100 meters, and hitting what he was aiming at. He then proceeded to show Dan how to do it.

On the way back to the airport yesterday, the team took up a collection to give Carlos as a token of our affection, which we presented to him at our one rest stop outside of Entrada. I believe he was genuinely touched, because about an hour later he asked Cathie (who was sitting in the front seat) to translate a message to us over the bus PA system. He told us that we were one of the best groups he had ever had and how much he loved us.

Carlos has (I believe) four daughters and six grandchildren, including one named Carlos. When we arrived at the airport, two of his daughters and Carlito were waiting for us. In the mad scramble to make our planes, Carlos introduced us and each one gave me a hug. Carlos was already part of our team. Now I guess we're part of his team too.

Thank You's

2009-03-29T20:56:00.000-07:00

I have a few very special thank-you's to share before I trundle off to bed (my own bed!):

Lisa Reynolds of Habitat Greensboro did an outstanding job of putting the trip together, and generally made my burden much lighter. I really hope to go on a future build trip with Lisa.
Luis Madrid, the Work Team Coordinator from Habitat Honduras who was our guide, interpreter, on-the-ground planner and a funny and engaging companion for those first few days. As a first time leader, I appreciated the fact that he really helped me get my sea legs under me before he cut me loose on Tuesday. I really enjoyed getting to know Luis better.
Carlos Chicas, our driver. To call him our driver is to woefully understate what he meant to each of us. I love him and admire him so much I'm going to do a more extended writeup on him, with pictures.
All of the people from the local affiliate, especially Lorena, but also JJ, Hugo and Amada who are doing such great work in S.R. de C. They totally pulled out all the stops this time, I mean really...a pizza party on the first night with music and dancing? A high school band at the reception on the last day? They could not possibly have made us feel more welcome and wanted.
Arnoldo, that mountain of a man with a shaved head and a big smile, who took me under his wing on day one to show us how to make adobe blocks with the "pollito" -- the brick machine that looks like a "little chicken". Arnoldo always greeted me warmly and gave me a big hug on Friday and kept saying "Roberto, mi amigo!" He was also a very good soccer player.
Fernando, the mason I worked with the most, became special to me as the week went on. Such a kind and gentle soul, he is a born teacher. I think four or five of us who worked with him could now do a creditable job of laying block. He had a knack for showing you what to do, correcting judiciously and gently, and offering encouragement and praise along the way. When Fernando said something was cheke leke, it really felt good. But the thing I enjoyed most in working with Fernando was watching a beautiful relationship develop between Steve and Fernando. Steve doesn't speak a lick of Spanish, and Fernando doesn't speak a lick of English, and yet they could talk to each other in their own native languages and be understood. It was crazy to watch, like some kind of telepathic Vulcan mind-meld thing that was all about bricks and mortar and plumb lines and other mason stuff. Steve truly respected Fernando's skills and knowledge, and I believe Fernando respected Steve's hunger to learn, attention to detail, and innate ability. It was a delight to watch them together. Oh, and Fernando also faked me out of my jock strap on the soccer field...OK, so maybe that's not a big accomplishment, but he was very, very good.
Jorge, the owner of the Hotel San Jorge in Santa Rosa, who always does such a great job hosting us. He and I talked for quite a while Friday night after everyone went to bed about his expansion plans for the hotel. Jorge is a young, entrepreneurial businessperson who I believe really loves his country and his city, and is doing his best to improve his little corner of both. He is humble, flexible, smart and utterly reliable.
My last thank-you is for Gerard. Gerard has led a number of trips himself, and so he knows the drill inside out. As such a veteran leader, it would have been easy for most people in that position to be a know-it-all or to second-guess decisions I made. I'm sure it wasn't easy watching me feel my way through my first time, and it takes a person of great character and humility to give me the space to find my way. It was a blessing and a comfort to me every single to have Gerard there for advice when I needed it, for his ideas, his wisdom, and his wealth of ideas. I am also very thankful for the opportunity to get to know Gerard much better. There's nothing like hours in a cramped bus seat to help you get to know somebody. I'm glad I shared that time with Gerard.

I am certain there are others I could mention -- my wife Pat and son Dan being obvious omissions. While at least as important as any contributions mentioned here, what they add to my life transcends Honduras and blesses me every day.

Escape From San Pedro Sula

2009-03-29T19:09:00.000-07:00

It has been a wild day, but at least the main contingent of the Greensboro team is home safe and sound. We left Keith, Cathie and Sherry in the airport in San Pedro Sula, as they were flying home on a different airline, and we left Kate and Drew in Atlanta where they were connecting to their flight to London.

Yesterday we were up early for our bus ride to Copan Ruinas, and the Mayan Ruins of Copan. We had a tour of the ruins with Marvin (yes, Marvin) our Honduran guide. It was really hot, and bit by bit we lost team members who decided to pack it in for the shade. For me it was the third time through the ruins and I still find it fascinating. I'll post some pictures later as I get them off my camera.

We had a picnic of sorts on the ground of the archeological park under the shade of huge trees. They were not the biggest trees we had seen by a long shot, however. There was one la cieba tree that was 250 years old that had roots as big as a man's waist -- 100 yards from the base of the tree. Another in the plaza was only 90 years old, but was even taller.

After lunch we checked in to our hotel, 16 out of the 21 of us headed out for the recreational highlight of the trip, the "canopy tour" via 16 zip lines down the high ridge east of the ruins. I will definitely have pictures of this, and possibly video if I can work it out. The zip lines are steel cables stretched between trees anywhere from maybe 200 meters to a full kilometer long. On the long one we calculated that you averaged about 50 mph riding a pulley down the cable, suspended several hundred feet off the ground. Normally you are harnessed into a leaned-back sitting position for the ride, but a number of our party were more adventurous on some of the lines. One alternative is to ride Superman-style, belly-down, arms extended out front, with a guide behind holding your legs and applying the brakes. The other, even more daring way, is upside down: belly up, with the guide holding your legs, head and arms down, hurtling through the ether. Oh, and the guides make sure you swing back and forth the whole time just for good measure. The last line takes you about a 1/4 mile over the Copan River before landing you safely back at base camp.

We had a nice private dinner that night at Casa de Todos (House of Everything), with traditional Honduran food -- quesadillas, chicken, rice, squash, potatoes, salad, mixed vegetables, Hibiscus tea, homemade hot sauce made with pumpkin seeds, sesame seeds, and jalapenos. Sandra, our hostess and the owner of the Casa de Todos, was charming and welcoming. The meal was awesome. We then retired to the Red Frog.

The Red Frog is a second story bar in Copan Ruinas owned by an American expat named Dan who bough the business sight unseen for $300 on the Internet. It seems the authorities caught the former owner choking his girlfriend over the second story railing, and gave him the option of Honduran jail time or leaving town. He left, then sold it to Dan.

One of the charming little traditions at the Red Frog is to write a note on a one-Lempira bill (worth about a nickel) and tape it to the wall. There are the usual love notes, notes about where people are from, colleges (a whole column of Carolina stuff), and best of all, smack talk from Greensboro Habitat teams to the Durham teams and vice versa.

Habitat teams from Greensboro and Durham have made the Red Frog their traditional watering hole for the last night in Honduras. Last night Gerard held court at the Red Frog, celebrating the completion of his 7th Honduran mission trip, surrounded by 14 other team members by my count. Our motto is "What happens in Honduras stays in Honduras," so I am not at liberty to share many details (so you're safe, Sue....you too Molly, Megan, & Claire). However I have it on good authority that certain team members did not arrive back at the hotel until...late.

We met at 6:30 to check out and load up for the 3-hour ride to the airport. We managed to get away at 7:10, thinking we would get to the airport in plenty of time. We made one bano break outside of Entrada, where we took out team picture and gave our driver and friend Carlos a present from a collection we had taken up. More about mi amigo Carlos later in the week.

Then it was off to the airport. The closer we got to San Pedro Sula, the closer it was looking on arriving in time for our flights. Then we got pulled over at one of the ubiquitous Checkpoint Charlie's the Policia Nacional have set up. Then there was a wreck...a severe fender bender...followed by another fatal wreck involving a car, an SUV and a bus that was pretty gruesome.

Now it was getting a little hairy. There are two potential complications in San Pedro airport -- one, the check-in lines can be long and slow, and two, you have to pay a $34 per person exit tax to leave the country. To pay the tax, you have to have your passport and boarding pass, and the line to pay the tax can be long. We also would not have a chance to eat again unless we ate at the airport.

So we worked out a plan. When we pulled up to the curb, the women were to get in line to check in to hold spots there while the men unloaded the luggage off the roof. The team members with later flights went to Wendy's to get food. Pat and I would shuttle passports to the exit tax line as people got checked in. Drew and Kate were our priority, as they had a connection to their London flight in Atlanta.

We pulled up to the curb at 11 AM for a noon flight and set the plan in motion. I'd like to tell you the plan worked flawlessly, but the fact is the Good Lord was watching out for us today. There was no line at Delta, no line at the exit tax window, and the flight was delayed about 20 minutes. We all made our flight and most of us got something to eat.

The rest of the journey was relatively uneventful, which is a good thing. We were greeted at the airport here by family and friends and bade each other warm goodbyes. In a month or so we'll all get back together again to look at pictures and tell stories, but for now we all go our separate ways.

It's hard to believe that nine days could pass so quickly. We all put our heart and soul into this trip and the work we were there to do, but we all received so much more, from both our Honduran hosts and from each other. We shared an intense experience and formed a special bond over those brief days that will be in our hearts for a long, long time.

Adios, Amigos!

2009-03-28T05:39:00.000-07:00

It's another beautiful day here in S.R. de C., and we are starting to gather for breakfast. Soon we'll pile all our stuff on top of the bus and take the 2 hour ride to Copan Ruinas, where we'll tour the ancient Mayan Ruins, ride the zip lines, and generally have a good time.

I don't think I wil have Internet access in Copan Ruinas, so this is my last post until Monday. I want to thank all of you who have followed our trip on this blog throughout this week, and special thanks to those who have left comments. Traffic to the site has been through the roof this week, which is very exciting to me. I hope you will continue to follow Emmaus Road even after we return.

Adios!

Would you believe....?

2009-03-27T20:44:00.001-07:00

Today has flown by. We worked about half a day on the job site, then retired to the hotel for lunch. After a bit more luxurious break than normal, we returned to Shimishal for a soccer match between the Hondurans and the Americans.

Our match took place on the army base next door to Shimishal, on a soccer pitch that was, shall we say...interesting. the goals were a steel cage with no net, and the pitch itself sloped at least 15 feet from one end to the other. Not only did the area around the goal have no grass, it seemed to be sunk into the ground a bit as well.

We lined up fully expecting to get spanked. Our opponents were the very same masons and other laborers we had worked with shoulder to shoulder all week. Not only that, but the very mason who had taken me and my compadres under his wing -- Fernando -- was playing wing on my side. Turns out he´s a pretty darn good soccer player.

To make a long story short, we went into halftime down 0-1, which was not too bad considering the Catrachos were playing downhill and with the wind. After halftime we acquitted ourselves well, tying the game at 1-1, then 2-2, and finally 3-3, the final score. Andrew was a star, but went down with a tweaked hamstring midway through the second stanza. Our main mujeres, Molly, Kate and Megan played outstanding soccer, every bit the equal of the Catracho hombres on the other side. We were in the middle of sudden death overtime when we finally had to leave for the celebration that officially closes the week at the site.

When we rolled in there, would you believe that we were greeted by a high school band of about 20 kids, plus about 40 various homeowners and laborers. After the party they threw on Saturday night I should have been prepared, but it was still incredible. The homeowners gave us our diplomas and a couple of small gifts, and we reciprocated with gifts of Habitat hats and bandanas. There were speeches and songs, and throughout Molly was a stalwart, translating on the fly. She has worked really hard this week as interpreter and served us well.

Then came the goodbyes. For me this gets harder each year, as I get to know these people a little better, and the bonds of friendship become tighter. I could tell some of the other team members felt the same way. How is it that you can develop such affection, such love for people you didn´t even know a week before? Only the Holy Spirit can pull that off.

We had another good devotion-reflection tonight on the whole week, followed by a really nice dinner at The Gondola, an Italian restaurant that was really pretty good, especially since it included a few bottles of good wine.

Now some of the group are watching the Carolina game, and others have sacked out. We leave around 7:30 tomorrow for the town of Copan Ruinas to tour the Mayan ruins, ride the zip lines, and visit the Red Frog Tavern. Tomorrow is about fun and reward, but tonight I´m still in a pensive mood, thinking about the people I love that I am leaving behind. A piece of my heart will still be here when I leave.

I can´t fully explain to you what I am feeling right now, but it is intensely bittersweet. This is a great group of people, and it has been a great week together, but I know it´s winding down. There´s so much that´s happened this week that I literally have not had two minutes to process or think about, and maybe it will take me another year to sort through it. But underneath it all there is immense satisfaction and great joy. Something special has happened here this week that is like a pebble thrown into a still pond that will send out ripples in people´s lives, and no one but God knows what those ripples will cause to happen in the future. My own presence here as the leader of this group is itself because of one such ripple.

Margaret Rubiera told me a year ago I should consider leading a group down here. I told her no way, I wasn´t ready. But four months later the Holy Spirit told me otherwise. Ever since that time, whenever I needed information, money, team members, encouragement, courage, or anything else, I have received exactly what I needed when I needed it. It wasn´t always easy or fun, but I guess tonight more than any time in my life I feel that God has really taken me by the hand and led me through. And what an incredible blessing that has been.

The Last Day in Santa Rosa

2009-03-27T06:29:00.000-07:00

It's been quite a week. Everybody is tired, and yet there is still a quiet energy about this group as we prepare to head to the work site for the last time. We all still want to see what we can accomplish by the end of the day.

The homeowners and Habitat Honduras will be throwing us a party at 3 today as a sendoff, and I know these occasions are bittersweet. We get to spend quality time with our new friends, but it is a short time, and then we'll leave. I know I'll be back, but it could be a while.

Tonight I expect our sharing will have a different quality to it, quieter and more reflective. I have marveled all week at the various gifts of the Spirit embodied in these wonderful people on the team, how different they all are and yet how very much they each contribute in their own unique way. We are truly the Body of Christ, and I am filled with gratitude this morning to have shared this time with each of them.

And yet now we will start to think about and talk about "what next"...how we will use what we have learned when we get back. After this experience, you can never be the same person again. The time here is a gift, but one that must be used. That's the part of the journey we begin tonight.

Digna

2009-03-26T21:25:00.000-07:00

It´s almost 10:30 local time, by far the latest I´ve been up on this trip, but right now I don´t feel like sleeping. I´m physically tired and now emotionally spent.

We visited El Hogar de Las Niñas this evening, an orphanage for girls run by the Franciscan nuns of the Immaculate Conception. Don´t quote me on this, but I think I heard there were 49 younger children (say 2-10 years) and about 7 or so older girls of high school age who live there and help out with cooking and other chores -- basically helping to raise the younger ones. There are five nuns and one part-time teacher.

When we arrived we were greeted warmly by both the staff and the kids. The children were incredibly warm, friendly, and trusting. The environs were clean and orderly, even cheerful, in spite of looking a little run down and in need of maintenance. Even knowing that every child there was an orphan, you could sense it was still a place of warmth, happiness, and love.

I was drawn to a young girl holding an even younger child of about two. Digna was 16 or 17 and an extremely poised and self-confident young woman who introduced herself to me along with her younger charge, Yocelin (my spelling may be suspect here, but basically it´s Jocelyn). Yocelin came to me readily and seemed to enjoy being held. The first thing she did was grab me by the nose and hold on for dear life, which was pretty funny. She, however, did not much like having the favor returned so I backed off. But she stayed close.

Digna pointed out all her friends by name, and told me a lot of the basic facts about the home. Yocelin, Digna and I walked around the courtyard holding hands and talking for some time. Eventually I joined a group talking with the nun who is the headmistress (I promise to add her name, but I don´t have it in front of me). This turned into quite a long tour and Q&A session, which probably will be the subject of another post, probably after I return. But do let me say that the sisters there are doing an incredible job. It is amazing what they do with next to nothing in the way of resources.

And as the head nun spoke, it seemed that the very light of Christ shown from her face. Most people would be beaten down by the immense responsibility and the lack of resources she faced every single day, and yet here she was, smiling and radiant with the very joy of God. As she described the needs of the orphanage she never seemed angry or frustrated, she only spoke of her trust that God would provide what they needed when they needed it. I was inspired.

All this time Digna was never far away, and when we emerged from one of the classrooms, she was right back by my side. I felt from her (and also from little Yocelin) the same thing I had felt in a different way the evening before with the younger orphans -- an intense desire for a father´s love.

It was getting late and we had to leave, setting up another very difficult goodbye. I gave her my email address and asked her to write me. I had to say adios, but I told her I would be back. Mañana, she asked? Her question broke my heart. No, not tomorrow, I said, but I will be back. And I will.

Muy Caliente

2009-03-26T15:36:00.000-07:00

Today was way hotter than any day so far, and the hottest of any day on my three trips here. It's a dry heat, as the saying goes, but we baked. Thank God no one fell out, though Matt had to lay out this afternoon with the bug. He's had Cipro though so he should be good to go soon enough.

It certainly helps that we have a nurse/mother/safety officer in Judy, who makes sure everyone is taking breaks, filling water bottles, and reminding everyone to drink up. It worked. We're all OK though tired and sore as usual.

We leave soon to visit El Hogar de Las Nina, an orphanage for young girls...more on that later.

Hard to believe already that tomorrow is our last day in Santa Rosa...

Adios!

Home Stretch

2009-03-26T06:48:00.000-07:00

Everybody is sore to varying degrees this morning after another busy day, but spirits remain high and the team is gathering by the door to head to the work site. I am so inspired by their dedication to this work and the good humor they bring to their labors every day. A lot of us had aching backs yesterday from some of the weird postures you have to assume laying block, mixing mezcla and carrying blocks, and yet I still had to work to get people to leave at the end of the day.

Several houses have their block work done up to a point where the next step is to pour a band of reinforced concrete around the top of the blocks. This requires an immense amount of concrete which must be mixed by hand on the ground. I foresee much mixing of concreto today.

Weather wil be a factor today...it's been hotter than on either of my previous trips, and the forecast for today is 32C, which is in the low 90s. Pray that everyone stays well hydrated, because the temps plus the work could spell trouble otherwise.

Hasta luego...

Los Niños

2009-03-25T16:34:00.000-07:00

Another day of work completed, and we can really see a bunch of houses taking shape. The activity around the site is incredible and its been fun to work with the masons. The mason on the house I worked on, Fernando, is both a wonderful craftsman and a patient teacher. He has taken Steve under his wing and trusts him to lay block on his own without much supervision. Its been awesome to watch the two of them bond.

I will post more about this later after I can process a little more, but we visited an orpahnage this afternoon run by the same order of nuns that Mother Teresa belonged to. They care for 51 children around three and under. We spent about 1.5 hours with them, just playing with them and loving them. Some of them just soaked it up, and wanted nothing more than to be hugged and held.

One girl and I bonded quickly and I spent the bulk of the time with her. Even though I asked several people to help me, I never understood her name. She was three years old and beautiful, with shoulder-length hair and sparkling brown eyes. I sat with her along with some others drawing pictures, which started with a caballo (horse), moved to a perro and gato (dog and cat), and ended up being a portrait of the whole family. I also showed them photos of everyone.

But when finally we had to leave, it was hard to say goodbye. As the leader, I was the last one out the door, and she came to me and took my hand and held on while I tried to leave. I tried twice to leave and she held on, but finally I had to go. My heart is still heavy as I write this. What will become of her, I wonder...and I pray the good sisters will continue to care well for her and the 50 others...

Our Team

2009-03-25T06:18:00.000-07:00

I have been blessed by the 20 other people who make up our team. From the moment we were first united in the airport in San Pedro, the group has seemed very much at ease with each other, and by the time we had made the 3.5 hour bus ride here to Santa Rosa we were on our way to becoming friends.

On the work site, they have attacked each task with enthusiasm, and have worked with great intensity. My biggest problem as leader has been to make sure they stop long enough get enough water. That and getting them to quit.

Our morning devotions have been outstanding and our evening sharing has been, well, boisterous...a lot of laughing, joking, and sincere sharing of love and enjoyment of each others´ company. Last night at dinner we really got on a roll to the point several of us were in stitches. It just got louder and louder...until we had to go or get thrown out. :-)

Things get a little tougher the next three days as our bodies get more stiff and sore from the work. But I know this group will continue to give their all with an outstanding attitude.

Day Two

2009-03-24T17:09:00.000-07:00

I´ll keep this short as we´re running late today...

The team so far has maintained a high level of enthusiasm and energy for the work. They hit the ground running this morning, with two teams laying block, one crew sifting sand for the adobe block-making ¨factory¨, and others doign various odds and ends. I moved dirt all morning, throwing shovels full of dirt through a screen to clean out the rocks and trash, so that the clean material can be used to make adobe blocks. So many have been made since we got here that we ran out of room to store them while drying.

After lunch I went on a shopping trip with Carlos, our most excellent driver, and Molly, one of our team interpreters. We set out for the local ferreteria to some some cubetas (buckets), alicates (special pliers for working with rebar), cucharas (trowels), and a carreta (whellbarrow). After three stops we had everything but the cubetas, which was what we needed most. Life in Honduras. We´ll get them mañana.

We visited a small (and I mean small) family cigar-making business after work -- husband, wife and daughter -- who rolled cigars all day in a one-room ¨factory¨. We didn´t get back till 5:45 so our evening schedule is off a bit and I am running late. I´ll try to post again either later tonight (unlikely) or in the AM.

Adios!

First Day of Work

2009-03-24T06:29:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was our long-awaited first day of work. We rose early and met at 6.30 for a devotion and meetting as we will all week. Phil led an outstanding devotion, in which he quoted a great passage from Bishop Oscar Romero, who was martyred in the 80´s for his support of the people of El Salvador. The passage talked about how we were continuing work that was started before our arrival and would be completed after our departure from this earth. It was so very appropriate because that´s literally what we´re doing on the work site.

When we arrived at Shimishal, I was astounded by all that had been done, and all that was going on. The first 18 houses we worked on the past two years are complete and inhabited, and in fact have been decorated, painted, and added on to in many cases. The other 19 are in various stages of completion, and there are easily twice as many people working there than I have ever seen.

The homeowners we are working with introduced themselves, and we introduced ourselves to them. Each one spoke of their gratitude for our help, and prayed for blessings upon us. To a cynical American, it might seem like a little social nicety, but I know there are sincere, and it is touching.

We broke into teams and attacked the work with a vengeance. After all the hours on the bus the previous two days, everyone was ready to work, and the energy was incredible. I actually had to try to slow people down so they wouldn´t burn out. We tied rebar, made adobe blocks, sifted sand, mixed mezcla (mortar), and laid block. There was visible progress after even this one day.

Everyone is stiff today (except for the young ones), but we are ready to get after it again today. Our friend and guide Luis is leaving us to go back to the main office office in San Pedro Sula, and I for one will miss him. But we are going to be very busy the next few days, I know the time will fly by...

Time to go get ready for work...hasta luego!

The Belly and Belen Gualcho

2009-03-23T06:34:00.000-07:00

It´s about 7.30 local time and we are about to head to the work site for our first day on the job. I am amazed at how quickly the group has knit together...21 people who already seem very comfortable with each other, who share their lives and observations freely. I know we are going to work well together.

Yesterday we traveled about two hours to the little town of Belen Gualcho for the Sunday market. This was Honduras in its purest form, a place where they rarely see gringoes, where there are no turist shops or souvenirs, only the local Lenca Indian people and mestizos who come to buy produce, baked goods, clothing and handcrafts. The energy and surprising noisiness of the place is palpable, and all the way up the mountain we passed people coming to or going from the market.

The scenery is stunning...huge mountains, broad valleys, sharp peaks, flowers, pine trees, and houses that ranged from little adobe hovels to mansions. And everywhere there are coffee plantations, with the coffee plants planted in the shade of pines or more often plantain trees. Ít´s the end of the harvest, and everywhere farmers and businesses are drying coffee beans in the sun, anywhere there is a broad flat expanse of concrete, or even a sack or board in the yard.

In Belen Gualcho we held a Sunday service in the local church which was finished in 1718. The church has seen better days to be sure, but we were able to first go up on the roof and check out the spectacular views of the town and surrounding mountains.

Our service was basically the Liturgy of the Word... a reading form 2 Chronicles about the Babylonian Captivity, a psalm response (Psalm 137), a reading from Ephesian, and John 3 14 20 containing the awesome ¨For God so loved the world...¨ verse. We sang three hymns, ably led by Sherry and Keith.

The only bad thing was that I became afflicted, I guess you would say, with Montezuma´s Revenge. Thanks to the support and drugs of the team (God bless Cipro), I am on the mend and am going to work today.

More tonight!

We made it

2009-03-22T05:02:00.000-07:00

We arrived last night about 5.30 and checked in. It was a long ride, both the plane ride, the wait at the airport for our last two team members, and thw twisty 100 mile ride in the bus. But miraculously everybody made, along with all their baggage.

After checking in we went to one of the local schools for a ¨reception¨ which turned out to be a full-on, red-carpet reception party, with music, dancing, pizza, and local food. The courtyard of a local school had been decorated with tables, candles, balloons and a huge sign that said ¨bienvenidos¨ (welcome). We were once again blown away by the warmth and hospitality of our hosts.

Today we head up to a local mountain village called Belen Gualcho for their Sunday market, which is quite a spectacle. Hopefully I can write more later, but breakfast beckons!

Reverse Mission

2009-03-19T08:51:00.001-07:00

Tomorrow is the big day when we leave for Honduras. Nine months of preparation, recruiting, planning, budgeting, sweating, communicating, nagging, and praying are about to be fulfilled on our mission.

I am excited about returning to Shimishal, the little neighborhood on the outskirts of Santa Rosa de Copan that we helped start two years ago. I can't wait to see new homeowners Fatima, Marina, and little Jose Erais Limon the mason, the kids like Ramon and Jose Lopez, and the folks from Habitat like Gaby, Luis and JJ. And best of all we will see 18 families now living securely in the strong little houses we helped build. Their lives will have been transformed by the resources of the Greensboro and Durham Habitat affiliates and the army of volunteer laborers who have come from those two cities and from all over North Carolina to help their sisters and brothers in a little Central American town none of us had ever heard of.

And yet I know now that what they gave us is so much greater than our gift to them. My two visits to Santa Rosa have changed me forever. As Henri Nouwen put it in his book Here and Now:

I had come from the North to the South to help the poor, but the longer I was among the poor the more aware I became that there was another mission, the mission from the South to the North. When I returned North, I was deeply convinced that my main task would be to help the poor of Latin America convert their wealthy brothers and sisters in the United States and Canada.

Ever since that time, I have become aware that wherever God's Spirit is present, there is a reverse mission.

When I returned last spring, my heart was different. The change started on the first trip, but it really took hold last year. Every time I thought of the trip and the people of Santa Rosa, God told me: "Witness for them." I have taken every opportunity to do just that, to the point where my friends and family are probably sick of it. The reverse mission has converted me.

Tomorrow is the next step. Remembering what has already happened on the past two trips, what does God have in store for us this time? God alone knows. But I know it won't end when we leave Honduras.

Faith and Preparation for the Journey

2009-03-19T06:38:00.000-07:00

In less than 48 hours our group from Habitat for Humanity will board the plane to begin our journey to Honduras. Saturday will be a long day --

Rendezvous with the group at 5:45 AM at the airport
Fly to Atlanta
Short connection, meet up with Drew and Kate who are arriving from London
Fly to San Pedro Sula
Arrive at 11:10 local time (two hours behind us, so 1:10)
Rendezvous with Luis Madrid from Habitat Honduras
Load the bus, tying our 35 or 40 bags to the roof of the bus
Drive three hours to go about 100 km (60 miles or so)
Arrive at the Hotel San Jorge about 4 PM local, about 12 hours after we left
Mass at 5 PM (hopefully)
Meet with the team at 6:30
Dinner at 7:00
Crash

My journey actually started almost nine months ago, when I was called to lead this trip. I have been preparing ever since. I have gone from early, uninformed enthusiasm to frustration and near-despair that I'd even be able to find 11 other people to make the minimum number, to amazement at how we now have 19.

There is still a lot to do. Pat has been extremely helpful and supportive, and that has been a source of comfort here lately. It IS coming together, but there are so many variables that are out of my control, from team members' ability to rouse themselves at oh-dark-thirty to the vicissitudes of airline schedules and weather. So much is beyond my control or even influence. And I think it will be even crazier when we get there -- we will be operating on Honduran time, which has little to do with (North) American ideas of punctuality. Plans will change. And change again. And only a handful of people we'll see outside our team even speak English!

I have faith that God brought me to this place and he will lead me through it. That much is certain. How He will do it is a mystery, which can be a source of anxiety, but can also be a source of wonder and awe...

It was perhaps ten years ago that an image first appeared to me that has helped me many times in situations like this. I was a senior executive at a market research firm, and a big part of my job was business development -- beating the bushes for new clients. One of my colleagues in Southern California was extremely gifted at opening doors for people like me to tell our company's story. He was also gifted at squeezing every ounce of value out of every trip I made there. It was not unusual for him to schedule five or six meetings in a single day with five or six different clients. At the same time, I also had existing clients who depended on me to support their important work. It was overwhelming. That was when I first learned to let go and let God take care of me and get done what needed to be done.

The image that came to me was me standing with my arms wide, closing my eyes and falling backward. God supported me, and I never once hit the ground. After that, when I would start to feel stressed and overwhelmed, I would close my eyes and imagine spreading my arms and slowly falling backward.

###

And speaking of wonder and awe, as I was writing this I just learned from Lisa at Habitat that we have added two more team members less than 48 hours before departure. What a wonderful surprise, but further proof that I am not in control of this situation! I think I will just close my eyes now...

Juanito

2009-03-16T06:16:00.000-07:00

About a year ago I had a strange experience. On the second day of a ten-day Habitat for Humanity build trip to Honduras, we had gone to the work site for orientation and to get our hands dirty a little bit. We spent the morning starting to dig trenches for the sewer lines from 18 houses that were nearing completion. Turns out that was to be our main task for the following week. But the thing we did most this particular day was play with the children from the neighborhood and the adjacent orphanage.

We returned to the Hotel San Jorge late that afternoon to clean up and rest before dinner. The local church has a Saturday afternoon Mass at 5 PM, so three of us brave souls -- my son Dan, Becky and I -- decided to go. Don't quote me on this, but I believe the church was built in colonial times about 400 or so years ago. Let's just say it's seen better days, though it was sporting a new coat of white paint or whitewash, which really made it stand out.

Attending a Mass celebrated in a foreign language is a curious experience. I know some Spanish, but not really enough to translate competely on the fly. However fifty years of Mass attendance definitely helps you understand what's going on, even if you don't literally understand the prayers. I struggled with the sermon, but it seemed almost equal parts religion and politics, with references to justice and poverty and the poor. Mixing politics and religion is a pretty well worn path in Central America, thanks in no small part to Archbishop Oscar Romero of El Salvador.

Everything else was pretty much what you'd expect until the very end of Mass. Just as we were set to leave, a man appeared in the aisle on my left. "Appeared" is the only way I can describe it, because one second I was thinking about leaving, and the next, here he was -- and he had taken my right hand in his.

He was obviously drunk, and smelled of someone who had been drinking liquor for an extended period of time. His hand was cold to the touch, and clammy, and he swayed a little from side to side as he stood there, looking me in the eye. "My name Juanito. Johnny." He spoke a little bit of English, though his inebriation did not make it any easier to understand. He kept saying something over and over, a question. "Do you know O-ma-ha?" The very bizarreness of the question, standing in an old colonial church of a backwater town in Honduras, didn't make it any easier to understand.

Juanito was not aggressive in any threatening sort of way, but he did not let go of my hand, either. He was right up in my personal space, no more than a foot from me. I could not leave without making a scene. And of course none of the townspeople came to the aid of this gringo either.

"Do you know O-ma-ha. Neh-brah-ka." I tried to relax a little bit and listen. I looked over at Dan and Becky and they looked...freaked out. But what I eventually pieced together was that Juanito had emigrated to the U.S. for a period of time and had worked as a migrant laborer in Omaha and Lincoln, Nebraska. What an epic trip that must have been, from Santa Rosa to Omaha and back again.

Juanito held my hand for a long time...ten minutes that seemed like ten hours. Every once in a while he'd say again, "my name Juanito...Johnny" like I hadn't heard him before. I tried to communicate with him as best I could, with his handful of English and my handful of Spanish, but finally I just had to go. So I finally told him so, took my hand back, and we left.

Of course he followed us, and finally got down to his apparent reason for accosting us -- he asked Dan for money, and thankfully Dan didn't give him any. I'm certain he would have bought liquor. Juanito followed us for a couple of blocks, and I was starting to get concerned that he'd follow us back to the hotel. But when we turned left to head back up the street the hotel was on, I just said, "Adios, Juanito" and turned away. We left him behind at the square. I never saw him again.

I never felt afraid the whole time he held my hand, though I'd be lying if I told you it was easy or comfortable. But it forced me to look in the eye a person I probably would have hurried past had I seen him on the street, a kind of social leper. Forced me to see him as another human being in a very bad place in his life. I still think of him sometimes, and it causes me to say a prayer for him. God only knows what the rest of his story is. I hope it got better.

Being the analytical type, I can't help ask, why me? And why did he say so many times, "My name...Juanito...Johnny"? I wonder if it was part of humanizing him -- his mother and father probably called him Juanito (maybe Dad was Juan). Friends called him Juanito. Maybe he had brothers and sisters that called him Juanito. I'll never know.

But there are a couple of uncomfortable coincidences I've thought about. Juanito was not just some guy with a buzz on, out for a good time on a Saturday night. You just knew the guy was an alcoholic, maybe toward the end of the road. My Dad was an alcoholic. And his name was Johnny. Not John or Jack -- my Mom and his friends called him Johnny. He passed away (dry and sober, thank God) in 1991. But in a small strange way, saying adios to Juanito was also like saying goodbye to Dad. I don't know if you ever really get over having an alcoholic parent, but maybe somehow, some day, you do get beyond it. I don't know why, but I think that day I started a new chapter in getting beyond it.

I also sometimes think about the passage from Matthew (Mt 25:31-46) which says in part:

'Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you,
or thirsty and give you drink?
When did we see you a stranger and welcome you,
or naked and clothe you?
When did we see you ill or in prison, and visit you?'
And the king will say to them in reply,
'Amen, I say to you, whatever you did
for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me.'

Did I welcome Juanito as a stranger? It's a little bewildering to think of Juanito as Christ in that situation. But maybe that was Jesus' point -- he's not always going to have a halo and a band of cherubim ministering to him. Did I welcome him, or did I fail to minister to him? I wonder...the right thing to do was not at all clear to me then or now. But I did stay with him and listen, and that's a start.

Receiving Forgiveness

2009-03-14T07:32:00.000-07:00

Who is there like you, the God who removes guilt
and pardons sin for the remnant of his inheritance;
Who does not persist in anger forever,
but delights rather in clemency,
And will again have compassion on us,
treading underfoot our guilt?
You will cast into the depths of the sea all our sins
Mi 7:18-20, from today's readings

Today's Gospel reading contains what is in my humble opinion the greatest and perhaps longest of Jesus' many parables. It is the greatest because:

It so vividly portrays the love of God for us in human terms
It's characters are vividly drawn with an extreme economy of words
Like all great literature, it operates on multiple levels
Its lessons are timeless

I've heard this parable many times as Mass of course, when you hear it all at once as a story, in which context its lesson seems singular and obvious. But it is a rich and detailed story. To get the full impact, it helps to break it down into chapters:

Chapter 1 -- Context

Tax collectors and sinners were all drawing near to listen to Jesus,
but the Pharisees and scribes began to complain, saying,
"This man welcomes sinners and eats with them."

All week long Jesus has been cracking on the Pharisees, his favorite fall guys. This chapter encapsulates both their big beef with Jesus and their fundamental sin. They believe in justification through their works (adherence to the law) while Jesus preaches justification by faith and conversion of the heart. The tax collectors and sinners get it. The Pharisees do not. So Jesus tells them the story.

Chapter 2 -- The Insult

'Father, give me the share of your estate that should come to me.'

To get the full impact of the story, you have to understand just how deeply the younger son insulted and disrespected his father. He is basically saying, "You have no value to me as a human being, except as a vehicle to provide me with the things that I value. Your fatherhood is worthless. I wish you were dead, because then I would get what's coming to me."

Chapter 3 -- High Times

(He) set off to a distant country where he squandered his inheritance on a life of dissipation.

Not only did he take his inheritance from his father prematurely, he then wasted it in further sin.

Chapter 4 -- Reversal of Fortune

When he had freely spent everything,
a severe famine struck that country,
and he found himself in dire need.
So he hired himself out to one of the local citizens
who sent him to his farm to tend the swine.

For the Jews of Jesus' audience, to fall so low as to tend swine was an unimaginable disgrace, for pigs are considered unclean. This son was actually desperate to eat what the pigs ate.

Chapter 5 -- Realization and Remorse

Coming to his senses he thought,
'How many of my father's hired workers
have more than enough food to eat,
but here am I, dying from hunger.
I shall get up and go to my father and I shall say to him,
"Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you.
I no longer deserve to be called your son;
treat me as you would treat one of your hired workers.'"

Here is the moment of grace when the son realizes what he has done and begins his conversion of heart.

Chapter 6 -- The Eternal Love of the Father

While he was still a long way off,
his father caught sight of him, and was filled with compassion.
He ran to his son, embraced him and kissed him.

Think about the meaning of "while he was still a long way off." After all the son has done, the second that the father first sees him trying to return, "he ran to his son." So much does the father love his son and miss him that at the first sign of his return he runs to meet him.

This is perhaps the most poignant moment of the story. In my mind I see the son trudging wearily up the dusty road. He is pale, thin, shoeless and dressed in rags, and bone-tired from carrying his immense sin alone along this long and difficult road for so many days. His father, with the classic white hair and flowing beard of all biblical fathers, sees him in the distance and instantly recognizes him. All this time he has never stopped thinking of him, never for one second stopped loving him. The realization of their impending reunion takes his breath away, and without thinking or a moment's hesitation he begins to run as fast as his old legs will carry him to the reunion he has longed for all this time.

Chapter 7 -- Confession

'Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you;
I no longer deserve to be called your son.'

The son recites the confession he has no doubt practiced a thousand times on his long journey home. It reminds me of trying to do an examination of conscience as a kid preparing to go to "confession", as the Sacrament of Reconciliation used to be called. As rote as it may sound, though, the father understands how deeply the son regrets his actions.

Chapter 8 -- Restoration of Sonship
"Then let us celebrate with a feast,
because this son of mine was dead, and has come to life again;
he was lost, and has been found."

Here is the most accessible and obvious lesson -- reconciliation with God is a resurrection of sorts. Our death in sin becomes resurrection and new life through the love of the Father and the death and resurrection of Christ. We see the same lesson in the parables of the lost sheep and the lost coin.

Chapter 9 -- Resentment of the Obedient Elder Son

'Look, all these years I served you
and not once did I disobey your orders;
yet you never gave me even a young goat to feast on with my friends.
But when your son returns
who swallowed up your property with prostitutes,
for him you slaughter the fattened calf.'

This is all too much for the older brother, who has worked hard for the father all the time his little brother was living it up. In fact, he probably had to work even harder because of the loss of his brother. He resents his father's leniency toward the younger son and refuses to join the celebration.

In a sense, he now commits a sin similar to his brother's. He rejects his father, his father's love and his father's values. It does not occur to him that the same kindness and mercy are available to him, and that in fact his father's love has already been lavished upon him.

Chapter 10 -- Resolution and Explanation of the Father

'My son, you are here with me always;
everything I have is yours.
But now we must celebrate and rejoice,
because your brother was dead and has come to life again;
he was lost and has been found.'"

This final lesson is not only for us, but for the Pharisees as well, and in the final summation Jesus puts an exclamation point on his explanation of why he dines with sinners and tax collectors.

This particular parable has always resonated deeply with me, and for literally decades I did not know why. Then during a particularly dark time in my life, my therapist/mentor/counselor/novelist/friend Marilyn showed me a passage from the book The Return of the Prodigal Son by Henri Nouwen:

One of the greatest challenges of the spiritual life is to receive God's forgiveness. There is something in us humans that keeps us clinging to our sins and prevents us from letting God erase our past and offer us a completely new beginning. Sometimes it seems as though I want to prove to God that my darkness is too great to overcome. While God wants to restore me to the full dignity of sonship, I keep insisting that I will settle for being a hired servant. But do I want to be restored to the full responsibility of the son? Do I truly want to be so totally forgiven that a totally new way of living becomes possible? Do I trust myself with such a radical reclamation? Do I want to break away from my deep-rooted rebellion against God and surrender myself so absolutely to God's love that a new person can emerge? Receiving forgiveness requires a total willingness to let God be God and do all the healing, restoring, and renewing. As long as I want to do even a part of that myself, I end up with partial solutions, such as becoming a hired servant. As a hired servant, I can still keep my distance, still revolt, reject, strike, run away, or complain about my pay. As the beloved son, I have to claim my full dignity and begin preparing myself to become the father.

Fr. Louie has also said to me on multiple occasions that for many people receiving forgiveness is so very much harder than asking for it. One stumbling block is that in order to receive forgiveness from others, including God, we also have to be prepared to forgive ourselves. We have to let go of the past, because God is the God of the present. Another stumbling block is that receiving forgiveness requires a commitment to change -- to walk away from the life and actions and thought patterns that led to the sin in the first place. We don't trust ourselves to change, and rightfully so. We can't do it, we can only allow God to do it for us.

As we roll into the second half of Lent, our challenge is not only ask forgiveness, but to accept it as well, and in doing so to allow God to change us into something completely new.

Happy Birthday Dan

2009-03-12T14:28:00.000-07:00

Fond wishes for a happy birthday go out to my son Dan who turns 20 today. It's hard to believe he's already 20, and that his brothers Alex and Jesse are 21 and 24, respectively. One of the greatest joys in my life is to see the three of them together, how much they love each other and enjoy each other's company. This scenario was pretty hard to imagine, say, 15 years ago when they were pummeling the daylights out of each other. But I guess most brothers grow out of that kind of competition -- even mine did. ;-)

Joseph, the subject of today's Old Testament reading, was not so lucky. Because his father had shown special favor for Joseph, his brothers became jealous and plotted to kill him. Lacking the nerve to murder their own flesh and blood, they threw him in a cistern. Then after enjoying a nice lunch together and admiring their handiwork, they decided they could turn a profit by selling him to a passing caravan of Ishmaelites. Good thing there were no Ishmaelite caravans passing by when my boys were younger...but I digress.

As we all know from Sunday School, religion class, or vacation Bible school, through God's favor Joseph went on to become the Pharaoh's right-hand-man. Through his position of power he then showed his brothers incredible mercy and forgiveness when they were most vulnerable.

In one sense, Israel's special love for Joseph was almost Joseph's undoing, as it aroused jealousy in his brothers. Probably at one time or another every child deals with the perceived favoritism of one or both parents. Likewise parents (including me) agonize about even the perception of favoritism among their children.

We raise our children for a long time, and the relationships among all the family members are in a constant state of flux. In my relationships with my sons, my connections to each are different in terms of interests, experiences we've shared, and all the emotions that go with them. The strength, quality, and intensity of each relationship changes over time, as it does between every pair of humans. And in Israel's defense, it could be that at the time today's story unfolds, his relationship with Joseph was at a particularly intense and positive stage. Maybe in time, say if Joseph had gone out with his friends and wrecked the family chariot, the nature of the relationship might have changed, but we'll never know.

My relationship with Dan reached a particularly intense and positive stage this time last year when we traveled to Honduras together on a Habitat build trip. We worked together, ate together, roomed together, and shared our lives with each other at a deeper level than we had before. I've had similar, but not the same, experiences with Alex and Jesse, and I hope to again with each of them. But Honduras last year was special for Dan and I.

And as it turned out, Dan's birthday fell right in the middle of the trip. I know he had accepted the fact that he wouldn't be celebrating a "normal" birthday, but I don't know what, if anything he expected. We arranged to have dinner that night at Weekend's Pizza in Santa Rosa, which is an oddly excellent pizza joint in Santa Rosa de Copan -- you just don't expect great pizza in Honduras, OK? Margaret Rubiera, God bless her, arranged to have a surprise birthday cake -- Tres Leches cake -- brought out after dinner with candles and the whole thing. What a great surprise it was, especially when it turned out the lady who served the cake was a Habitat homeowner we had visited the previous year.

Dan, I don't see any surprise Tres Leches cake in your future, but I hope you have a wonderful 20th birthday just the same!

Love,

Dad

Trust

2009-03-12T08:15:00.000-07:00

At the end of June, the Oblates of St. Francis de Sales will be leaving St. Paul's and leaving the staffing of the parish with priests to the Diocese of Charlotte. It is an emotional time of transition, and one of fear and anxiety for some, as we have not faced a change like this in a long time. The parish has been staffed by order priests for its first 35 years, first the Paulists, then the Oblates. This is a step into the unknown.

Last night we had a meeting of the Parish Pastoral Council to discuss the transition. We honestly shared our thoughts and feelings, fears and doubts, and tried our best to discern what our role as a Council should be in this transition. Two people who said they had a conflict changed their plans and came anyway. The mood was thoughtful, loving, trusting, brutally honest, forgiving. There was and is such a love among us for this community and what it means to each of us, for the essence of St. Paul's parish that transcends priestly and lay leadership, and for the faith that binds us all together.

The Holy Spirit was with us, and through the Spirit it was our finest hour, not because of anything we did or said, but because in the end we decided to take the Lord by the hand and let Him lead us through this. That is what God is calling us to do through the prophet Jeremiah in today's readings:

Blessed is the man who trusts in the LORD,
whose hope is the LORD.
He is like a tree planted beside the waters
that stretches out its roots to the stream:
It fears not the heat when it comes,
its leaves stay green;
In the year of drought it shows no distress,
but still bears fruit.
More tortuous than all else is the human heart,
beyond remedy; who can understand it?
I, the LORD, alone probe the mind
and test the heart,
To reward everyone according to his ways,
according to the merit of his deeds.

Our parish has been through a lot over the past ten years, including the removal of a beloved pastor due to accusations of sexual abuse and a severe financial crisis. I don't need to recount all the particulars, as they are all part of a past we can't change. Over that time we watched our numbers wither by a quarter or even a third.

But we have also watched a miracle take hold. Our finances bounced back, and in spite of the strains of the recession are still better than they were. Our numbers have bounced back. There is a renewed sense of who we are as a community, and the role we play in the larger community of Greensboro.

As so often happens when we trust the Lord, our trials have become a beautiful gift. Because I believe we now see that our faith community at St. Paul's is much more than our priestly leadership, more than the homily on Sunday or even the Mass itself. We are here for each other, and we are here for others we don't even know -- the homeless who stay in our church as part of the Greensboro Interfaith Hospitality Network, the Muslim family whose house we helped build through Habitat for Humanity and the people whose houses we'll work on in Honduras, the people of our sister parish in Ecuador, and the people who come through our doors every day to find help to get through these hard times.

God knows I am not saying this to thump my chest with pride, because we still have a lot of work to do and potentially tough times ahead. But adversity has forged us into a stronger community, and for that I am grateful to God.

Humble Pie

2009-03-10T10:37:00.000-07:00

My apologies that this post is going up a little after the fact and refers to the readings for Tuesday and Wednesday. I'll have some thoughts out later about today's readings.
*****

Tuesday's Gospel contains one of Jesus' many tirades against the hypocrisy and pride of the scribes and the Pharisees. It's extraordinary how vehement Jesus is in His criticisms of the Pharisees in so many places, and yet how gentle and non-judgmental he is with more "ordinary" sinners like prostitutes, tax collectors, and adulterers. The pride and hypocrisy of the Pharisees seems so much more offensive to Jesus than the greed and sexual sins of the people. Why is that?

In a way the Pharisees have presumed to take on God's role as ultimate judge of human behavior, and in a sense their behavior is a form of blasphemy. To make matters worse, their pride and hypocrisy shows that they have lost the healthy sense of who they really are -- creation rather than Creator, and that they are utterly lacking in authenticity and humility.

Wednesday's reading builds on this theme. In the first part, Jesus describes the ultimate act of service he is about to perform:

"Behold, we are going up to Jerusalem,
and the Son of Man will be handed over to the chief priests
and the scribes,
and they will condemn him to death,
and hand him over to the Gentiles
to be mocked and scourged and crucified,
and he will be raised on the third day."

Soon he will give up everything in humble service to us out of His great love. Contrast this with the plea of the mother of James and John that follows: "Command that these two sons of mine sit, one at your right and the other at your left, in your kingdom." She is asking for them the same kind of place at the head of the table that the Pharisees used to lord their power over the people, only not in this world, but the next. This also is a loving Mom looking out for the sons she loves.

But it's the wrong question. Jesus asks the two brothers "Can you drink the chalice that I am going to drink?" -- can you serve, suffer, and die for me? "We can," they reply. This is the right question, and the right answer. However it is not for Jesus to place the two at His right and His left -- even Jesus, God's son, did not presume to take on a part of God's job as the Pharisees did.

When the other ten get bent out of shape about this exchange, Jesus explains the meaning of yesterday's reading and today's:

"You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them,
and the great ones make their authority over them felt.
But it shall not be so among you.
Rather, whoever wishes to be great among you shall be your servant;
whoever wishes to be first among you shall be your slave.
Just so, the Son of Man did not come to be served but to serve
and to give his life as a ransom for many."

In other words, he called each of them to a life of humility and service. Fr. Louie talked about humility in his homily on Ash Wednesday, and offered what I thought was a great way to think about it. We often think of humility as self-deprecation, but that's not really it, and in fact self-deprecation can even lead to false modesty. Fr. Louie said "Humility is not thinking less of yourself, but rather thinking of yourself less."

And when you think of yourself less, you will think more about others, which will in turn lead you serve others rather than solely serving yourself.

Judgment Call

2009-03-09T13:05:00.000-07:00

Today's reading is one that I can almost recite by heart, both today's version from Luke and the corresponding passage in Matthew. Judging others is possibly the most persistent and unrelenting offense in my personal portfolio of sins, so I have worked those two passages over to reinforce my motivation to change. And while I have definitely made progress, I am nowhere near done with my work.

Our society is not much help. A recent Time magazine had a big article about who was to blame for the current financial crisis, replete with Photoshopped pictures of the judged in a spoofed police lineup. No need for a judge or jury there, these 25 are already convicted in the court of public opinion. This type of thing has become a mainstay of the media, from the op-ed pages of the papers to the screaming pundits on TV. And then there are the lawyers and the court system, the great substitute for personal responsibility and common sense, where the blame game is played at the highest level. When bad things happen, we just need to judge someone responsible and we'll feel better. Except we don't.

I think most people would read today's gospel as "Stop judging (other people) and you will not be judged (by God)." That certainly is a very direct and obvious meaning, and I agree with it wholeheartedly. But read the whole reading:

Jesus said to his disciples:
"Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.
"Stop judging and you will not be judged.
Stop condemning and you will not be condemned.
Forgive and you will be forgiven.
Give and gifts will be given to you;
a good measure, packed together, shaken down, and overflowing,
will be poured into your lap.
For the measure with which you measure
will in return be measured out to you."

There's more to it than just avoiding God's judgment, though that would be lesson aplenty. Jesus is also telling us how to live our lives and to literally make "Thy kingdom come...on earth as it is in heaven". In his book of reflections Here and Now, Henri Nouwen says:

Imagine having no need at all to judge anybody. Imagine having no desire to decide whether someone is a good or bad person. Imagine being completely free from the feeling you have to make up your mind about the morality of someone else's behavior. Imagine that you could say: "I am judging no one!"
Imagine -- Wouldn't that be true inner freedom? the desert fathers from the fourth century said: "Judging others is a heavy burden." I have had a few moments in my life during which I felt free from all the judgements about others. It felt as if a heavy burden had been taken away from me. At those moments I experienced an immense love for everyone I met, heard about, or read about. A deep solidarity with all people and a deep desire to love them broke down all me inner walls and made my heart as wide as the universe.

Friends, THAT is what Jesus was also trying to teach us. He has told us all along to love our neighbor. This is a key to how you do it -- by withholding all judgment about your neighbor.

Nouwen goes on to say we all have these moments if we are attuned to the Holy Spirit: "They are like glimpses of heaven, glimpses of beauty and peace." Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.

But how do we change, when so much of what we hear and see and experience reinforces that we are constantly judged ourselves, and that we need to judge others just to survive?

Can we free ourselves from the need to judge others? Yes...by claiming for ourselves the truth that we are beloved daughters and sons of God. As long as we continue to live as if we are what we do, what we have, and what other people think about us, we will remain filled with judgments, opinions, evaluations, and condemnations. We will remain addicted to the need to put other people in their "right" place. To the degree that we embrace the truth that our identity is not rooted in our success, power, or popularity, but in God's infinite love, to that degree we can we let go of our need to judge...
...God's judgment is not the result of some divine calculation of which we have no part, but the direct reflection of our lack of trust in God's love. If we think of ourselves as the sum total of our successes, popularity, and power we become dependent on the ways we judge and are being judged and end up as victims manipulated by the world. And so we bring judgment on ourselves...
Only when we claim the love of God, the love that transcends all judgments, can we overcome all fear of judgment. When we have become completely free from the need to judge others, we will also be completely free from the fear of being judged.

So from this vantage point we can see some of Jesus' other teaching in a slightly different light. If we start at the place where we accept and truly believe that we are God's beloved, nothing in this world has quite the same hold on us. We stop judging others, and when that happens we not only don't fear others' judgment, but others no longer seem to judge us either.

This last observation has been one of the biggest surprises on my journey to being less judgmental. Not only does judging less transform me, it seems to transform others in relation to me, making them kinder and more forgiving of me. There's no way else I can explain it any different or better than Jesus did in today's Gospel. All that time I was trying to figure it out, and it was all right there in that passage from Luke all along.

The Conundrum of Prayer

2009-03-05T13:55:00.000-08:00

There seems to be even more than usual to pray for these days. Another friend lost his job. Thanks to our buddies on Wall Street that 401(k) became a 201(k), and after the last 10 days is now more like a 101(k). My Mom told me she's concerned her money is going to run out before her time here does -- and she's 90. Shall I go on? $1.7 trillion deficit. War rages anew in Afghanistan. Our new leadership seems just as lost as the last. And so it goes. There is indeed plenty to pray for.

As I have mentioned before on these pages, I am of two minds about prayer, and sometimes I think Scripture gives us conflicting advice.

On the one hand, there are plenty of examples in the Bible of people praying fervently to God for very specific things. I have been re-reading my favorite Psalms the past few nights, and pretty much every psalm is a prayer, and most every prayer is for something pretty specific (forgiveness, deliverance from enemies, etc.). Today's readings are about prayer, including the oft-quoted:

"Ask and it will be given to you;
seek and you will find;
knock and the door will be opened to you.
For everyone who asks, receives; and the one who seeks, finds;
and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened."

This passage certainly invites us to pray for what we need, and indeed the corresponding passage in Luke 11 invites us to be persistent in our prayers and they will certainly be answered.

"Suppose one of you has a friend to whom he goes at midnight and says, 'Friend, lend me three loaves of bread, for a friend of mine has arrived at my house from a journey and I have nothing to offer him,' and he says in reply from within, 'Do not bother me; the door has already been locked and my children and I are already in bed. I cannot get up to give you anything.' I tell you, if he does not get up to give him the loaves because of their friendship, he will get up to give him whatever he needs because of his persistence."

That seems pretty clear. But here's the twist: what if we pray for the wrong things? And where does God's will fit in vs. what we are asking for? Doesn't His will count for something? How do we know that what we pray for is consistent with what God wants for us?

Praying for his life in the Garden of Gethsemane even Jesus' prayer deals with this:

...he prayed, saying, "Father, if you are willing, take this cup away from me; still, not my will but yours be done."

So what are we to make of this praying-for-something-but-not-praying-for-it? Asking for something and accepting at the same time you may not get it because it's not what He wants?

I don't know, and I've thought about it a fair amount. But there are a couple of things I've learned that I can share.

Prayer has the power to clarify our desires, motives, and intentions. If you pray honestly and openly, then part of the process will be to examine why you want what you want. This can only be a good thing. Persistent prayer also clarifies just how much we want something. I sometimes pray for things that maybe don't matter to me as much as I think. My persistence or lack thereof reflects that. I suspect that sometimes God wants us to work through these things ourselves through prayer.

Prayer also reveals God's will and teaches us to surrender our will to His. I have learned from the 12 Steps (see Step 11) that often the very best prayer is "praying only for knowledge of God's will for us and the power to carry that out." That really simplifies things. What else do you really need?

Perhaps one of the greatest gifts of prayer is that it has the power is to change the one doing the praying. Setting aside the time to be with God and open yourself up is transformative. I think it even changed Jesus that night in the garden. Has anyone ever prayed more fervently? Yet when faced with the awful reality of His sacrifice he totally surrendered to God's will, and through that surrender was granted the power to carry it out the next day, completely at peace and without fear. The knowledge of God's will and the power to carry it out.

God does answer our prayers, every time. Sometimes that's obvious, but other times we need to continue praying in order to have the insight to know our prayer has been answered, because the answer isn't always the one we were looking for.

Apology & Update on Posting Comments

2009-03-05T13:50:00.000-08:00

First of apologies for not posting for more than a week! I marvel at how busy I can be while business is slow...will try to be a little more disciplined going forward.

One quick update...after several of you have mentioned having trouble posting comments, I changed the settings to allow anyone to post whether you're signed up or not. PLEASE leave me your name (or at least a clue), but most of all know that I welcome and cherish your comments and emails, and will respond ASAP.

Back to writing....

Remembering

2009-02-25T16:27:00.000-08:00

Today I returned from a Lenten preparation retreat at the St. Francis Springs Prayer Center. Nearly 100 people came yesterday to ready themselves for the beginning of Lent during the retreat proper, and they came from all over. I won't attempt to recount what was said in the individual sessions, because it wouldn't have the same impact second hand. But it was after most of the retreatants had left that the real retreat began for me.

It began with a walk around the surrounding property, an apt metaphor perhaps for the Lenten journey ahead. Yesterday was beautiful, with a bright blue sky and lengthening shadows as I set out just after four. The weather was chilly, but not really cold as I walked out the gravel road toward the entrance. A car full of departing retreatants stopped to ask if I needed a ride, thinking I was hoofing it home. No thank you, I said, I'm just out for a walk.

I turned right to follow the trail that runs along the edge of the woods and past the little pond that holds the water supply for fire suppression at the Center. After a quarter mile or so, I turned right again onto an old road that goes past a storage building toward an old farm field.

Fifty yards up the road, I looked up the corridor of the road and out into the field. From the dark cool shade of the road I was on, I could see the field was covered in old corn stubble and tall dead grass washed in golden late afternoon light. And as I looked, a young buck walked into view, browsing, looking, browsing more, looking more. He was followed by three does.

I was downwind and in the shade, wearing gray and black, so I figured I might have a chance of getting close, so I stalked as best I could up through the dry crackly grass and leaves, along the edge of the woods that partially obscured me from the view of the deer. But the last doe sensed something she didn't like, and stared at me for what seemed like ten minutes without moving a muscle. In the end she just didn't like the looks of me, flipped up her flag and she and her friends trotted off.

Continuing down the road, I entered the field, which could not be more than a couple of acres surrounded by Virginia pines and brush. My friend Don Lahey wants to plant a vineyard there someday. I couldn't help thinking it would be a great place to plant a garden to supply fresh food and herbs for the Center. Or maybe just for the deer.

Re-entering the woods, I walked a short distance further to what has become a favorite spot of mine, a rock outcropping the size of a small bus that I have decided to call Petrus. You can easily climb its flanks and sit comfortably with a birds-eye view down the ridge to the creek, surrounded by open woods. It reminds me of sitting in a deer stand, listening to the woodland sounds and peering intently around for signs of wildlife. When things get that quiet in the woods, you can clearly hear the flapping of a small bird's wings twenty or thirty yards away. Fr. Louie chose well this piece of land. St. Francis would approve.

Decamping from Petrus and continuing down the trail, I crossed the little creek that runs parallel to the building and walked downstream. Twice I stopped to admire places where the creek tumbled over a huge rock, and thinking about the trout that would be hiding in the pool below if it were a mountain creek.

Finally I arrived at the place I now realize was my destination all along. Below the chapel and across the creek from it, there is a clearing surrounded by logs stood on their ends to form seats. I guess they've been there since the Springs opened four years ago, and now they're pretty rotten. They look as if they'd fall apart if you tried to sit on them. But off to one side is a little bench that makes a fine place to sit.

I like this place because opposite the chapel is a simple cross at least ten feet high. Big enough, in fact, for a real crucifixion. And so it can be a powerful place to consider, to try truly imagine what it means to die on a cross. Pierced yet not so wounded as to die from the wounds. Positioned just so as to be hanging, and not able to breathe without pulling yourself up by those very wounds. Weakening and finding it harder and harder to draw breath, Each breath an agony and a struggle. Abandoned by friends, scorned and ridiculed.

In his homily today, Fr. Louie said that traditionally we think of prayer, fasting, and works of charity (almsgiving) as the spiritual exercises of Lent. He suggested a fourth -- remembering. Remembering exactly what Jesus did for us on that cross, what he suffered, what he gave up, and how he surrendered utterly to his Father's will. And he did it for us -- not some universal "we the people" kind of "us", but for you, personally and individually, and for me. That is our journey this Lent, to remember.

Lessons I Learned From My Dog, Part 2

2009-02-25T13:24:00.000-08:00

Hope springs eternal with Moose.

He can be crashed out in my office for literally hours while I work, but if I get up he is up too, like he is on springs or like an instantly inflatable dog. He looks at me with his head erect and his ears up: "Are we going somewhere? Are we? Are we? Maybe ride in the car? Or play ball?" If I just go to the bathroom or pick something up off the printer, he goes and takes a couple of laps around his bed, then settles back down. But you know he is alert for any sign of action.

If I go into the kitchen, he is alert for certain sounds. He knows the sound of the freezer door opening when you go to get ice for a drink, and quickly comes and parks next to the ice tray, where he is locked on every movement from tray to glass, determined not to miss the opportunity for an ice cube or two.

He also knows the sound of salad. What sound does salad make, you say? You got me. But he hears it, whatever it is, and comes to sit patiently behind me as I cut up ingredients for the salad. The vet told me a long time ago that some Labs love fruits and vegetables, and that these foods were much better for him and lower in calories than dog treats. So he has learned that salad = treat.

Slimy part off that cucumber that's been in the fridge a while? Yum.
Cherry tomato with a bad spot? De-lish.
Lettuce...sweet lettuce. Nectar.
Carrots? Crunchy goodness.
Bell pepper innards? The best.

When your standards are low enough that you'll eat socks, plastic bags, toilet paper, cat poop, and used Q-Tips, I guess even the lowest forms of real food must be delightful.

He is extremely polite. While he waits, he sits perfectly still, doing his laser-lock thing on whatever the object of his desire might be. But he never makes a sound, never gets under foot, never makes a pest of himself. That is, unless the sight of him eyeing whatever you're eating bothers you.

And his technique is exquisitely refined. While we're eating dinner, he'll be crashed out near the table, seemingly oblivious to his surroundings. But once we're done, maybe sitting and talking and sipping a glass of wine, we'll look up and there he is, locked on to whatever's left on the table. Never makes a move or a sound, but he's hard to miss, 85 lbs. of animal attention, staring intently at the scraps of dinner or the ice in our water glasses.

I confess that sometimes he does gets on my nerves. It IS unnerving. But the fact is, his behavior gets rewarded, not just sometimes but every.single.time. He acts this way because his hope is always rewarded.

So why do we not hope in the Lord the same way, with the same perfect conviction and patience? Yesterday's reading from Sirach said it well:

"...has anyone hoped in the LORD and been disappointed?
Has anyone persevered in his commandments and been forsaken?
has anyone called upon him and been rebuffed?"

Hope in the Lord, steadfast, patient hope, will be rewarded every.single.time. Now that Lent has begun, hope must be deeply ingrained within us, along with patience. We have forty days of preparation ahead of us, and if we work for those forty days, it's not going to be all fun and games.

But we prepare in steadfast hope, knowing that Easter, like Spring, is coming. Christ will take our sin and pain and suffering and work, and transform it through his death and resurrection into new life -- a better way of living in this life, and a better life to come.

Moose, my earthy and earthly teacher, has taught me well the rewards of patience and hope in this life. But in his quiet yet persistent way he teaches me something deeper about how to live this life in a way that leads to the next.

Trust

2009-02-23T10:14:00.000-08:00

I will be brief this morning because I have to leave momentarily for a retreat at St. Francis Springs on preparation for Lent. After watching the market dive another 250 points yesterday, it seems we could all use a dose of trust in the Lord, and I thought today's reading from Sirach was very timely:

...when you come to serve the LORD,
stand in justice and fear,
prepare yourself for trials.
Be sincere of heart and steadfast,
incline your ear and receive the word of understanding,
undisturbed in time of adversity.
Wait on God, with patience, cling to him, forsake him not;
thus will you be wise in all your ways.
Accept whatever befalls you,
when sorrowful, be steadfast,
and in crushing misfortune be patient;
For in fire gold and silver are tested,
and worthy people in the crucible of humiliation.
Trust God and God will help you;
trust in him, and he will direct your way;
keep his fear and grow old therein.

Amazing things always seem to happen when I spend time at The Springs, so hopefully I'll receive inspiration for tomorrow's post. I will at least try to "incline (my) ear and receive the word of understanding".

May God bless you all and keep you safe today!

It's the End of the World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine)

2009-02-21T06:57:00.001-08:00

This has been an anxious week. Being a Six, I don't really need a good reason to feel anxious, just being alive is often all I really need. Some may call this existential dread, angst or some other high-minded label. Really I was just edgy, and for good reason.

The economy is in the tank. Do I need to recount all the bad things that happened this week? Passage of a $787 billion stimulus bill ostensibly designed to help the economy caused the stock market to plumb new lows (gallows humor: the stock market has dropped so much that my 401k is now a 201k). Jobless claims through the roof -- 5MM people out of work. Home foreclosures up 80%+. And so on.

At our church and at other institutions here in Greensboro, people stream in every day for help with food, rent, utilities...the basic necessities. This week there was a confab of local churches and charitable organizations trying to coordinate their response to the local humanitarian crisis. A few years ago this type of meeting might have brought a couple of dozen representatives. At this week's meeting more than 100 came. And it's much worse elsewhere than here.

So far my business has help up OK, but we are actively in business development mode. Clients are still spending, but also acting squirrelly and overly deliberate. We need work. We have a pending proposal out for a study that would be by far the largest single assignment our company has ever won in its five-year history, to be conducted in the U.S., Europe, and Asia. So far beaten the odds by becoming one of two finalists, the other being a far larger multi-national firm. We are the darkhorse. The decision is due next week.

It's tax time, and of course as a small business owner I always look forward to the quadruple witching hour in April -- taxes due to the U.S. Treasury and NC Department of Revenue for 2008 plus quarterly tax payments to both. The biggest checks I'll write all year.

Then yesterday came the announcement that the Oblates of St. Francis de Sales, the order of priests that has staffed my parish of St. Paul the Apostle, will be "turning over the parish to the care of the diocese" at the end of June. This has been the bogeyman of our parish probably since before the Paulists pulled out 15 or so years ago. Diocesan priests! Head for the hills! Who will be our new pastor? No clue. That one is in the hands of Bishop Jugis and his staff -- and God.

And yet against all odds, the trajectory of my mood has been upward. One of the most important tasks of my own spiritual journey has been to learn to master my own anxiety. For anxiety is my perpetual companion, in good times and bad. My nature I think is to see it and experience anxiety more clearly and intensely than others do, but I think we all have it, and we all react to it, knowingly or unknowingly.

And let's be clear -- I am powerless against anxiety. You are too. I have been fortunate in my life to have had teachers to show me this aspect of my essential nature, and to work with it. One such teacher and friend is Marilyn who first taught to name my fear, my anxiety, and in so doing to reduce its power over me.

Another is Fr. Jim O'Neil, former pastor of St. Paul's and an Oblate priest. At a Finance Council meeting some years ago he read the following from a little yellow book as our opening prayer:

Do not look forward to the mishaps of this life with anxiety, but await them with perfect confidence so that when they do occur, God, to whom you belong, will deliver you from them. He has kept you up to the present; remain securely in the hand of his providence, and he will help you in all situations. When you cannot walk, he will carry you. Do not think about what will happen tomorrow, for the same eternal father who takes care of you today will look out for you tomorrow and always. Either he will keep you from evil or he will give you invincible courage to endure it.

If ever there was a prayer for times like these, that's it. He was quoting St. Francis de Sales from a little pamphlet called "Golden Counsels of Saint Francis de Sales", and my copy is dog-eared and almost crumbling from use as it lays in front of me now. It was that last line -- "Either he will keep you from evil or he will give you invincible courage to endure it" -- that rang my bell that night and began to help me see how our just and loving God stands by us, loves us and carries us through all the trials of this life.

In Jesus Christ his son we have an ally who has conquered not only anxiety but death itself. He did this not by being all-powerful and all-Divine but by being powerless and human. Jesus knew and experienced anxiety and every other human emotion exactly as we do. Can you not feel his anxiety at Gethsemane?

He was in such agony and he prayed so fervently that his sweat became like drops of blood falling on the ground.

He knows what it's like. He really does. And that is what gets me through weeks like this one.

"Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat (or drink), or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food and the body more than clothing?
: Look at the birds in the sky; they do not sow or reap, they gather nothing into barns, yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are not you more important than they?
: Can any of you by worrying add a single moment to your life-span?

: Why are you anxious about clothes? Learn from the way the wild flowers grow. They do not work or spin. But I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was clothed like one of them. If God so clothes the grass of the field, which grows today and is thrown into the oven tomorrow, will he not much more provide for you, O you of little faith?


: So do not worry and say, 'What are we to eat?' or 'What are we to drink?' or 'What are we to wear?' All these things the pagans seek. Your heavenly Father knows that you need them all. But seek first the kingdom (of God) and his righteousness, and all these things will be given you besides."

Countdown to Lent, Part 3

2009-02-19T10:34:00.000-08:00

Last in the series of posts on ideas for spiritual practices for Lent. Please feel free to add your own in the comments...

Almsgiving

Double up on your regular contributions to your church or favorite charity.
Deposit what you would have spent on #3 above into a collection jar, and donate it to your church or charity.
If you already work as a volunteer for your church or another charity, see if you can increase the hours you donate by 50% or 100%.
The next time you see a homeless person standing at an intersection, try opening your wallet and giving them whatever cash is in your wallet. All of it. I confidently predict that in doing this you will learn something about yourself you did not know.
Donate non-perishable food or to the food pantry at church or the local food bank.
Go on a mission trip. If you can’t actually take the trip during Lent, at least find one and commit to going.

That's all, folks, I hope you found this helpful or at least thought-provoking.

Countdown to Lent, Part 2

2009-02-19T05:47:00.000-08:00

Lent Minus 6 days and counting...some ideas for Lenten spiritual practices related to:

Fasting

For Catholics, numbers 1 and 4 are "required". However it seems to me that if you do these two because you "have to", neither will have much value.

"When you fast, do not look gloomy like the hypocrites. They neglect their appearance, so that they may appear to others to be fasting. Amen, I say to you, they have received their reward.
But when you fast, anoint your head and wash your face, so that you may not appear to be fasting, except to your Father who is hidden. And your Father who sees what is hidden will repay you."

Try following Catholic teaching on Fasting during Lent, shall we say, religiously? On Ash Wednesday and Good Friday eat only one full meal and two (very) light meals that together add up to no more than the full meal.
Try fasting – the real thing, not the Catholic Lite version. Don’t eat any solid food for an entire day, or any beverages that have any significant calories like milk, juice or soft drinks. Ash Wednesday and Good Friday are particularly good days to do this.
A Golden Oldie: Abstain throughout Lent from one or two pleasurable foods or drinks you typically enjoy as a treat. Last year I passed on Starbucks for 6 ½ weeks (a personal addiction). For you maybe it’s ice cream, Krispy Kreme, or chocolate.
Abstain from eating meat on Ash Wednesday and all Fridays. Catholicism 101. It never seemed like much of a sacrifice to eat fish instead of meat, so for extra credit, try not eating fish, eggs or dairy products either. (I wonder if vegans should abstain from fruits and vegetables, and only eat meat & fish?)
Sign up to participate in The H2O Project.
Participate in Operation Rice Bowl.
Fast from a non-food item -- TV, Facebook, texting, a hobby

Countdown to Lent, Part 1

2009-02-18T13:53:00.000-08:00

Ash Wednesday is only a week away, so it’s a good time to start thinking about Lent and planning the spiritual practices we’ll use to prepare ourselves for Holy Thursday, Good Friday, and Easter.

Traditional Lenten spiritual practices revolve around prayer, fasting, and almsgiving, so over the next few days I’ll be offering some suggestions under each category, including some golden oldies and one or two that might be a little radical. Just whatever you choose to do, do it as cheerfully and as privately as possible.

Prayer

Read the daily readings every day and reflect on them. You can do the reflection in the car on the way to work, during breakfast, lunch, or a break.
Take 15 minutes at the same time each day to pray and reflect.
Attend daily Mass (at least) once a week.
Receive the sacrament of Reconciliation.
Pick one of the Gospels and read it from start to finish over the course of Lent. (After Easter read Acts of the Apostles.)
Read one or more spiritual books. May I suggest The Return of the Prodigal Son by Henri Nouwen -- the ultimate Lenten book about the ultimate Lenten parable.
Go on a retreat. Doesn’t have to be an organized thing with a group of people necessarily, it could be just you taking some alone time to be with God in a place away from your usual earthly distractions. If you live in central North Carolina or south central Virginia, I highly recommend the St. Francis Springs Prayer Center near Stoneville, NC.
Join a Bible study group.
There are a ton of Bible study resources on the Web. I’ve been using Bible.org off and on, and listened to an entire sermon on the seventh and eighth chapters of Mark last night. See if you can find one that resonates with you.
Listen to Christian music. There are loads of musicians out there making great music about the Gospel, and their music can be a great way to bring us closer to God. On the contemporary Christian front, some artists to check out are Jeremy Camp, Chris Tomlin, Third Day, Building 429, Casting Crowns, Tree 63, David Crowder Band, Aaron Shust, MercyMe, and good ol’ Rich Mullins. Country and bluegrass also offer some great, if more traditional tunes, from the likes of Doc Watson (What A Friend We Have In Jesus – a cappella – wow), Doyle Lawson & Quicksilver, The Stanley Brothers, Amy Grant, Alison Krauss and Union Station (There Is a Reason, A Living Prayer). And don’t forget those classic Catholic liturgical tunemeisters The St. Louis Jesuits, Marty Haugen, David Haas, Ed Bolduc, and Jesse Manibusan.

Tomorrow I’ll offer some thoughts on fasting, then finish up on Friday with almsgiving. In the meantime I’d love to hear your thoughts and additions to the list. What else have you tried, especially during Lent, that you found powerful?

Water

2009-02-17T08:53:00.000-08:00

In today's readings we begin the three-part story of Noah and the Great Flood. Having heard the story yesterday of Abel's death at the hands of Cain, today's readings begin with God's great disappointment with man's evil ways, to the point he actually says "...I am sorry that I made them." He resolves to make things right by wiping the slate clean and starting over with the family of the one person on earth judged to be righteous -- Noah.

This is a familiar story, beautiful in its own way in spite of the destruction of the earth by flood. As we see so many times in the Bible, death and destruction are not final, but rather lead to resurrection and redemption. That is a theme we'll hear a lot about during Lent and the Easter season, so I'll save that one for later.

Another recurrent theme in this story is the cleansing and saving power of water, and how God uses water as an instrument of grace. We see it in Moses bringing forth water from the rock, John's baptism of Jesus in the Jordan, and the use of baptism as an initiation rite in the early church.

Water is of course essential to life, and it is something we in the U.S. have the luxury of taking for granted. Our water is safe to drink pretty much anywhere you can get it, and you can get it pretty much anywhere.

In Honduras, water seems to be plentiful. No less than eleven rivers have their source on the heights of El Celaque, the highest mountain in Honduras. But unlike here, you can't drink water from the tap without suffering serious consequences. Even when you take a shower, you have to be careful not to swallow the water lest you should pick up some nasty parasite or bacteria.

But as bad as that sounds to us as water-spoiled Americans, it is still better than the situation in parts of Africa and other areas, where women commonly travel miles -- ten or 20 or more -- to find water and bring it back to their families. Back in the day when my wife Pat worked on organizing the local CROP Walk, it was a very long walk indeed (10 miles? do any of you remember?). The point was to mimic the distance these women had to go to find fresh water. Over time, the CROP Walk was shortened to its present 10 km. because, well, not that many Americans will willingly walk 10 miles, even when they're not carrying 40 or 50 lbs. of water.

The scarcity of water in places like sub-Saharan Africa undermines the health and safety of those who live there, and is one more link in the chain of poverty.

Last night I heard about a way to break that chain, one village at a time. One night a month, we have a meeting of the Parish Pastoral Council and all of the major groups and commissions in the Parish. This year we started for the first time meeting all on the same night, so we could share with each other what we're all up to and to get to know each other better. So far it's been well received, though we're still working out the kinks.

The very last report last night was from Susan Rabold who is in charge of youth ministry. Starting tomorrow (Feb. 18) the high school youth are going to participate in The H2O Project, which is designed to raise funds for drilling wells to supply fresh water in areas where it is scarce.

Participants in the project forgo all beverages except water for two weeks, and contribute an amount of money equal to what they would have spent for each beverage they did not consume. Money raised goes to drill wells and bring fresh clean water to places that previously had none. The middle school youth have already raised $1000, and the high school kids are hoping to raise the rest of the $2500 to drill one well. They are hoping to drill that well in the home village of our beloved custodian, Michael.

Susan told me that it's a lot harder to do than it's sounds -- no juice, no soda, no coffee (!), no wine (!!!), nothing but agua. Makes you realize just how blessed we are in this country by the abundance of things we have to drink in addition to clean, safe tap water.

Obviously this would be a great act of sacrifice and spiritual practice for Lent. If you'd like to help, you can contact Susan via the St. Paul's parish website link on the left of this page. Let's see if you can make it two weeks!

God used the waters of the Great Flood to cleanse the earth of human sin. Wouldn't it be awesome if through this simple act we could use the waters from one well to cleanse a village in Africa of thirst, hardship and disease!

Posting Comments/Becoming a Follower of Emmaus Road

2009-02-16T07:10:00.000-08:00

Thanks to those of you who have left comments for me on any of my posts so far. I really appreciate your feedback and look forward to more back-and-forth with you on past and future posts. I also appreciate the emails of encouragement I have received. You can always email me at robarnett@triad.rr.com if you prefer not to have your words splashed over the World Wide Web.

Some of you have told me you've had trouble leaving comments, so here's the skinny on what you need to do. Probably the easiest thing to do is get a Google account (Blogspot/Blogger are part of Google, as soon we all will be). Go to Google.com and click "sign in" in the upper right corner. When you get to the sign-in page, click the link to Create an account now (or just follow this link). The rest is pretty easy.

Once you're signed in and you come back to Emmaus Road, be sure to click the link on the left to become a follower of Emmaus Road. You'll be notified any time I post new content. (h/t to Colleen and Paul for showing the way!)

Thank for reading -- I love you all!

Today's readings did not exactly spark immediate revelations (even after repeated readings), so I am looking elsewhere for inspiration. The Holy Spirit never fails, so stay tuned...

Unclean

2009-02-15T08:40:00.000-08:00

Kaluapapa is a small settlement on an isolated peninsula of the island of Molokai in Hawaii. Surrounded on three sides by water, and separated from the rest of the island by 1600 ft. cliffs, Kaluapapa became the site of a famous leper colony in the mid-19th century.

Leprosy arrived in Hawaii in 1848, and the first victims arrived at Kaluapapa in 1866. There was literally nothing there -- no housing, potable water, food -- just the barren land. Victims arrived there by ship and were unceremoniously dumped off:

"...the leprosy victims, arriving by ship, were sometimes told to jump overboard and swim for their lives. Occasionally a strong rope was run from the anchored ship to the shore, and they pulled themselves painfully through the high, salty waves, with legs and feet dangling below like bait on a fishing line.

The ship's crew would then throw into the water whatever supplies had been sent, relying on currents to carry them ashore or the exiles swimming to retrieve them."

Such was the fear of this terrible disease. Father Damien deVeuster, a 33-year old Catholic priest from Belgium, arrived in 1873 to minister to the sick. Not only did he take care of the sick, he helped them build a life, indeed a civilization, on this lonely spit of land.

Father Damien did more than simply administer the faith: he built homes, churches and coffins; arranged for medical services and funding from Honolulu, and became a parent to his diseased wards.

He truly entered into the leper's life of suffering and isolation, contracting the disease himself and eventually giving his life in service to these outcasts in 1879. Fr. Damien has competed the first two steps toward canonization as a saint, having been declared venerable by Pope Paul VI in 1977, and blessed by Pope John Paul II in 1995. (H/T to Visit Molokai visitmolokai.com )

To be a leper in those days was to be ultimate societal outcast, just as it was in the time of Moses in today's first reading. Anyone found to be unclean by reason of leprosy had to live outside the camp and declare to everyone his profound state of alienation:

"The one who bears the sore of leprosy shall keep his garments rent and his head bare, and shall muffle his beard; he shall cry out, 'Unclean, unclean!' "

Of course nothing had changed by Jesus's time in today's Gospel. So in this context it is remarkable that a leper would be bold enough to approach Jesus in the first place. Was he moved by faith in Jesus after hearing tales of other healings? Or was he just so desperate for relief and reunion with civilization that he figured he had nothing to lose? There had to be some of both, but his faith rings out in the leper's simple statement "If you wish, you can make me clean." He didn't really even ask to be healed, not directly anyway.

Moved with pity, [Jesus] stretched out his hand, touched him, and said to him, "I do will it. Be made clean."

Think about that. "Moved with pity..." Jesus again entered into the experience of someone separated from "normal" life and who probably considered himself accursed and rejected by God, and was moved by pity for the man. He felt his pain and rejection, hurt feelings and hurting body.

"...he stretched out his hand, touched him..." What a radical act of compassion! Jesus, the Ultimate Jew, violated a law given to His ancestors by His very Father centuries before. It was unspeakable. But such was the power of His love for this poor man that not even the Law could stand between Jesus and the salvation of this leper. "I do will it. Be made clean." Wow.

We all carry some burden, some rock -- our leprosy -- that we feel is so grave that not even God can can overcome it. We hold it tight.

"There is something in us humans that keeps us clinging to our sins and prevents us from letting God erase our past and offer us a completely new beginning. Sometimes it seems I want to prove to God that my darkness is too great to overcome...Do I truly want to be so totally forgiven that a totally new way of living becomes possible? Do I trust myself and such a radical reclamation? Do I want to break away from my deep-rooted rebellion against God and surrender myself so absolutely to God's love that a new person can emerge? Receiving forgiveness requires a total willingness to let God be God and do all the healing, restoring, and renewing." -Henri Nouwen, The Return of the Prodigal Son

Jesus is there, patiently waiting for us ask the question inside the statement of faith, "If you wish, you can make me clean."

"I do will it. Be made clean."

With love to Marilyn and Fr. Louie, who showed me that my darkness was no match for the the love of Christ.

Loaves and Fishes on the Road to Honduras

2009-02-14T08:10:00.000-08:00

Five weeks from today I leave for Honduras with 17 other people on a mission to build houses with Habitat for Humanity. This will be my third trip, and incredibly, this time I’m the leader.

The first time, in March of 2007, I went with my wife Pat and not a single other person I knew. Honduras was a shock, my first exposure to Third World poverty and desperate, subsistence living. Walking through a slum with the group, we were confronted with the sight of child no more than three years old, standing guard at the gate to his house with a knife in his hand. The look on his face told me that, even at three, he could and would use that knife. It is an image that still haunts me.

And yet the people that we met – outside the barrio at least – were universally happy and incredibly grateful for the little that they had. Not only that, but they shared what they had with truly Christ-like generosity.

I could feel the tectonic plates shifting inside me, but I didn’t yet grasp what was going on. But I knew I had to go back.

And so I did. In March of 2008 I went with a different group that included my son Dan and Butch Sherrill from the previous year’s group. I could write a book about our leaders, Margaret and Miguel Rubiera, even after so brief a time as ten days together. The light of Christ burns brightly in these two, and I am humbled at the prospect of trying to fulfill the leadership responsibilities they so joyfully and graciously fulfilled. Margaret was the quintessential Mom to all two dozen of us, and Miguel (Jefe Segundo) was an effective yet hilarious mix of Father Flanagan, Ricky Ricardo and Gen. George Patton. There is so much to tell about that trip, and in time perhaps I will tell it.

We can all point to times in our lives when an event or situation changed our perspective or even the direction of our lives. That was Honduras II for me.

For now, suffice it to say that the trip turbocharged my spiritual journey and rearranged the spiritual tectonic plates yet again into a new and more Spirit-filled configuration. My prayer life changed for the better, and I began to pray more frequently and ardently to know God’s will for me, and for Him to grant me the grace to carry it out.

And so it was one day last summer I was praying, and it came to me that I needed to lead the next trip. I mentioned this to Pat the other day, and she’s like, “So what did that sound like, was it like a big booming voice saying ‘Rob, Rob, lead the trip to Honduras’?” Not really, and I didn’t get knocked off my horse like Saul either. I just knew.

Recruiting people for the trip was tougher than I ever dreamed, though in retrospect maybe the economy had something to do with that…do you think? I tried to encourage people to not let money be a barrier to going, that somehow we’d find the money. And sure enough, one of the people on the trip told me they knew someone that would love to go, but couldn’t afford it. Now I had what I’d asked for and no clue where the money was coming from.

Segue to today’s Gospel reading:

Mk 8:1-9

In those days when there again was a great crowd without anything to eat, Jesus summoned the disciples and said, "My heart is moved with pity for the crowd,
because they have been with me now for three days and have nothing to eat.
If I send them away hungry to their homes, they will collapse on the way,
and some of them have come a great distance." His disciples answered him, "Where can anyone get enough bread to satisfy them here in this deserted place?"
Still he asked them, "How many loaves do you have?" They replied, "Seven."
He ordered the crowd to sit down on the ground. Then, taking the seven loaves he gave thanks, broke them, and gave them to his disciples to distribute, and they distributed them to the crowd. They also had a few fish. He said the blessing over them and ordered them distributed also.
They ate and were satisfied.
They picked up the fragments left over—seven baskets.
There were about four thousand people.

Jesus was moved with pity for the crowd (that empathy thing again), and the disciples were clueless about where the food would come from. And yet, just from the resources they had with them – seven loaves, two fish, and faith – there came enough food not only to feed four thousand but to have plenty left over.

And so I found myself earlier this week meeting with Lisa Reynolds at the Habitat offices, with Gerard Davidson, a Habitat board member, former trip leader, soon-to-be advisor-in-chief for yours truly, going over trip details including the budget. To this point, Lisa has done virtually all of the heavy lifting on trip preparation (aside from recruiting), and has done a masterful job of it. Gerard led my first trip to Honduras, and I can’t tell you what a blessing I consider it to be having him along this time.

To make a long story short, we found the money to fund the trip for the person who didn’t have the resources to go, and then some. Not only that, our “seven baskets of fragments” will be enough to make a nice contribution to Habitat Honduras as well. I felt like I was flying when I left the Habitat office – the Spirit had come through in the clutch again.

I confess that a few months ago I had wigged out a bit when recruiting wasn’t going so well, but that’s part of the territory that comes with being an Enneagram Six like me. But I settled down once I realized I was truly inadequate for this job (which I still am), but that if I let go of control and handed over the reins to the Spirit, that would create the space for great things to happen.

And so they have – we have continued to add to our numbers, even at this late date. Word came late this week that there could be as many as four more people joining us from Grace UMC, which could bring us to 22.

Lisa has a quote on her email signature I’ll share with you because it is so true:

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. -Marianne Williamson

“They ate and were satisfied.
They picked up the fragments left over—seven baskets.”

Groanings

2009-02-14T07:06:00.000-08:00

This week’s readings have tracked the creation story in Genesis and Jesus’ ministry of healing in Mark. The story of creation and The Fall of course presage the oncoming of Lent in ten days or so, by reminding us why we need those forty days of reconciliation in preparation for entering into the Paschal Mystery during the Easter season. Lent is a time of preparation just as Advent is, yet this year somehow I feel the need to “prepare for the preparation” as it were, and to prepare to make the most of Lent.

Looking back on this week’s readings, though, I am struck by two stories in particular from Mark’s gospel. On Thursday we heard the story of the Greek woman whose daughter was possessed by a demon. When she begged the Lord to drive out the demon, He told her "Let the children be fed first. For it is not right to take the food of the children and throw it to the dogs." Jesus’ mission was to the Jews, not the Gentiles (which would be Paul’s job). Yet she persisted, "Lord, even the dogs under the table eat the children's scraps." Moved by her faith, Christ drove out her daughter’s demon.

One lesson that can be drawn from this story revolves around the power of faith, and the need for persistence in prayer. I don’t presume to understand the Lord’s initial reticence to heal her daughter. On the surface it seems counter to our understanding of God’s love for each of us. And yet because of her faith and persistence, the Lord relented.

I have to confess that prayer is still a mysterious process to me, and never more so than when I am petitioning the Lord for something specific. Sometimes I can pray myself in circles: “Lord please grant me X, but if that’s not Your will, then don’t.” Maybe I’m trying to mimic Jesus’ prayer at Gethsemane: "Father, if you are willing, take this cup away from me; still, not my will but yours be done." And yet even then, when we are open to accepting God’s will, there is a place for persistence in our petitions. Sometimes it’s the persistence that purifies our motives as it tests our resolve. It reminds me of one of the threads in Randy Pausch’s now-famous Last Lecture, when he talks about obstacles to our goals ("brick walls"), and how they let us prove how badly we want something.

Another possibility is that God’s will is not a static thing. We often think of GOD’S WILL as if it is some monolithic, unchanging thing. And yet there are many stories in the Bible of God’s will changing. One that comes to mind is Abraham’s almost-comical conversation with the LORD in Genesis 18 about the fate of the city of Sodom -- "Please, let not my Lord grow angry if I speak up this last time…”. The point is, maybe God’s love for us is so great that His will can actually change if our faith in His love is great enough.

The other story is from Friday (February 13) in which Jesus cures the deaf man who also has a speech impediment. Sometimes it’s easy to gloss over stories like this one, because there are so many stories of Jesus curing people, driving out demons, or raising people from the dead. Often there is a lesson or insight from small details in the story that made it particularly notable for the Gospel writer and worthy of recording.

One such detail is this verse: “He put his finger into the man's ears and, spitting, touched his tongue; then he looked up to heaven and groaned, and said to him, " Ephphatha!" (that is, "Be opened!") When I read this, I thought, “What was the groan about?” Is this the same groaning Paul mentions in Romans 8: “In the same way, the Spirit too comes to the aid of our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but the Spirit itself intercedes with inexpressible groanings”?

It seems pretty safe to say that Jesus was full of empathy for the crowds that followed him and the sick who came to be healed. As he puts His fingers into the man’s ears and touched his tongue, by His great empathy He entered into the experience of living as a deaf man, of total understanding of what it was like to try to speak and not be understood. And even for Jesus the experience was so powerful that he prayed to the Father with “inexpressible groaning”. And from that knowledge came the power to heal.

So why is it so hard for us to believe that He understands our own deafness and inability to communicate? He knows our every iniquity, weakness and deficiency of character, and understands what it’s like to carry the rock of our guilt around every single day. And He loves us anyway.

Lessons I Learned From My Dog, Part 1

2009-02-13T05:27:00.000-08:00

'I have an extraordinary dog. Yeah, I know everybody says that about their dog, but in the case of Moose, it is a verifiable, empirical fact.

It's not just his good looks, which are obvious, nor his many talents, like being able to retrieve a ball hurled 100 yards down a mountainside into a laurel thicket, which is still pretty amazing. Nor is it his friendly and easygoing manner.

What sets Moose apart as a dog is that he is my teacher. I guess this makes this sort of a "man bites dog" story, to use one of the well-worn expressions I learned in journalism school, because we normally think of the teaching going only one way in the human-dog relationship.

What sets Moose apart as a teacher is that he has taught me volumes about God and about life. I cannot look at him without seeing the Divine Spark in his bright eyes and wagging tail, indeed in his whole philosophy of life.

Moose's philosophy of life is based on one thing: joy. Joy is not the same thing as happiness, though the two frequently coexist in Moose. As Henri Nouwen put it: "Joy is an experience of knowing that you are unconditionally loved and that nothing -- sickness, failure, emotional distress, oppression, war, or even death -- can take that love away....We can be unhappy about many things, but joy can still be there because it comes from the knowledge of God's love for us."

I love Moose unconditionally, which he knows down deep in his bones. He knows I love him even when he pulls a stunt like he did last night. Pat and I went to play tennis last night, and when we're both gone we debate whether to put him in his kennel in the garage or leave him in the house. The garage is cold right now, so I left him in the house.

Unfortunately I did not close the door to my office and all the bathrooms as I normally do. So when we got back, I went up to my office only to hear Pat call me, "Rob, you've got to come see what Moose did." There in our bathroom, Moose had taken an entire, brand-new roll of toilet paper off the dispenser. Based on the available forensic evidence, he then systematically shredded the entire roll and apparently consumed at least half of it. I know this a) because it was gone, and b) because I find his papier mache deposits out in the yard.

You see Moose is hopelessly addicted to paper, and we had acted as enablers. Sometimes I get upset about this stuff, but more often now I just laugh. He can't help himself, and I can't help loving him.

I think Moose also knows God loves him unconditionally, and that is the ultimate source of his joy. That kind of joy empowers you to engage life with the throttle wide open, drinking in every relationship and experience like the finest wine. I've learned a lot about this kind of joy from watching and studying him over the last six years.

Nowhere is this joy more apparent than when he plays ball. He lights up when I get the ball out -- the very appearance of his face changes and his body becomes alert and focused. He locks in like a laser on the ball right up until it's thrown, flung, hit or shot downrange and then he's off like a bolt of lightning. He gauges the range and general direction visually then locates the ball by smell.

As he's searching his joy is palpable. His big otter tail (a lethal weapon) spins like a helicopter rotor, something it only does when he's retrieving. He has a big ol' grin on his face and is full of a manic energy and focus that can only be satisfied by finding that ball. And when he does find it, he gallops back to me with his ears back and an even bigger grin, fairly oozing the pure joy of being outside, of running with the wind in your face. He is totally and completely immersed in the here and now, the present moment. It's infectious.

I rarely felt that kind of joy until I met Moose. But I am convinced that he is a personal gift from God to me, sent to teach me something important about how to live my life. He and I love each other unconditionally, but more importantly he has taught me, time and again, just how deeply and unconditionally God loves me, just like God loves Moose.

Happy 7th Birthday, Moose!

P.S. Thank you Lisa for helping bring Moose into my life six years ago!

In the beginning...

2009-02-12T14:20:00.000-08:00

Welcome to my new blog, Emmaus Road.

The story of the apostles meeting Jesus on the road to Emmaus has always been a powerful one for me. After Jesus' death they were despondent because they were sure that their great hope for the future had been extinguished by the cross. And yet in their very darkest hour Jesus came and walked with them.

Of course they didn't recognize Him, even though they were strangely and powerfully moved by His presence. "Then they said to each other, 'Were not our hearts burning (within us) while he spoke to us on the way and opened the scriptures to us?'" It was only after he broke bread with them that their eyes were opened and they realized he had traveled with them that afternoon on the road, and that indeed he had never left them at all.

That story is the story of our lives. We walk along the road, in good times and bad, sometimes scarcely aware of His presence. Especially in the hard times, like the patch of road we're walking right now, He can seem far away. And then something happens, and just like we've been struck with a bolt of grace, we know at once that He IS there, always WAS there...and always will be.

My prayer is that through these musings and your responses that we will all become more aware as we walk along of Christ's incredible, life-affirming, comforting, loving presence every step of the way.