Shining Spirit

That is NOT a hummingbird. He’s trying to fool me, I know. But I had suspicions right away. For instance, I’ve never heard a Hummingbird make such a loud, raspy noise. And his colors are all wrong. And he’s too big. And when he tried to hover in the air, like a Hummingbird can do, he dropped like rock. This, my friends, is an imposter. I don’t even know if he’s legally in the state. I once saw a bird very much like this one in New Mexico. I wonder.

But, you know what: he was very thirsty. In fact, he almost emptied the feeder. And all he wanted was a drink. Right there, in the midst of my stealthy observation of this stranger, I remembered the phrase “cup of cold water in my name…” Feed the hungry, give your coat to the one who is cold, break down walls that separate, treat everyone the way you want to be treated, welcome Woodpeckers to your Hummingbird feeder. On and on he goes, the Voice that turns out to be a better host than me. I’ve written before about Hospitality as a fundamental virtue of The Way of Christ, a bowl-and-towel perspective. Some would say that this big, noisy bird on my Hummingbird feeder was a sign or a divine message. I think he was just a thirsty neighbor passing by. Here, let me refill it for you.

I read somewhere that you and I are supposed to be involved in building or enhancing the Kingdom of God here and now. Right here where we are. That the Kingdom is not an exclusive resort, a post-life experience. The powerful presence of Christ, apparent and lived out in our lives, is a very real and urgent reality in these difficult days. We are called to build the kingdom by who we are and what we do.

One way to do that is to be sure that we are representatives and agents of God’s unflinching love through Christ. Remember that it’s patient, and strong and never ends. So, all we have to do is live out those three little words: I love you. There you have it. That’s all there is to it. Love your neighbor! If that’s too easy, let me give you a harder one. The three little words that are really on my mind this morning are these: I am sorry. Tougher assignment? But every time we say “I am sorry” and mean it, we create a new reality. A door opens, a window is pushed up and something new and fresh is possible. Old walls come down, new vision is cast, there is a future. Just from saying and meaning: “I am sorry.”

You and I have an opportunity today to expand the Kingdom of God right here and now. And all it takes is three little words…times two. To the person in your life who needs to hear: I love you, say it. And to the person(s) who needs to hear: I am sorry, say it. Don’t expect anything in return. This isn’t about anything I’m expecting to receive in response. Congratulations! You’ve added on another section of God’s intentional Kingdom. By the way, you can say either three-word sentence as many times as you need to. The Kingdom is limitless.

So, there we were setting up our starting blocks on the cinder track, minutes before the big race was to begin. It’s important how those blocks are set. Runners want the best start possible, so they take time to set the blocks exactly right. Mine in place, I watched the guy in the next lane. Measure, move one of the blocks; measure again, move the other one. Then adjust the first one, which requires resetting the other one. Pretty soon the other runners were standing around watching this poor kid struggle for perfection. The official Starter cleared his throat and said: “Come on, son, get it done.” Finally, we heard: “Take your marks.” “No, wait just a second: one more adjustment.” The Starter’s pistol pointed toward the sky.

Poor guy lost the race before it ever started. He didn’t have a chance. His indecision, his lack of confidence in the name of getting it just right, sent him off the blocks dead last and that’s the way he finished the race. Sometimes you take what you have and make the most of it. Perfection eludes most of us, so we take what we have and do the best we can. You’ve heard of “throwing caution to the wind”? Irresponsible preparation will usually cost you the race, but so will fear of trying. You can make the application in just about any arena you choose…including faith and life. Moments come when you have to decide to live cautiously or courageously. Sometimes circumstances leave no ethical choice. Set the blocks, push off hard, and run like the wind. The Way of Christ isn’t about setting the starting blocks perfectly. It’s about running. If you win, you win. If you don’t, you tried. You can smile and be grateful either way.

Maggie was a remarkable dog. Beautiful, sleek black coat, big brown eyes, so smart, loved life. Her best buddy was Josie, a little ball of white fur who ran on high octane. Josie ran the household at my daughter’s home, while Maggie made life exciting for Sue and me. Neither dog ever tired of chasing a tennis ball or making us laugh when they were together. Josie seemed sad when Maggie died. Animals know more than we think, don’t they. And it wasn’t long before illness took Josie. Our family grieved for both of them and I still feel a little lump in my throat when I remember how they loved each other.

I mention this because I found a sheet of paper tucked into one of my files recently and it contained the words that I share with you today. I titled it “Reunion” and imagined the moment when Maggie and Josie met again.

“Josie, is that you? I’ve looked for you every day, thinking that you might come running across the field. And then I saw a flash of curly, white hair and I knew. That’s Josie! Come on, let me show you all the wonderful parts of this beautiful place. There are no fences, just fields for play. No leashes, nothing to hold us back. See over there…that’s Tillie chasing the ball and Clipper is rolling in the yellow flowers. I told them about you, how you danced when people knocked on your door and how you slid on the tile chasing your stuffed toy. And don’t worry about your seizures. They’re gone! Follow me, Josie, Let’s run in the wind and chase the golden leaves. I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve missed you.”

Tell me why people can’t give love and affection like God’s other creatures? Over-the-top, without limits, no-strings-attached love. We have so much to learn from the least among us. Someday. Thank you, God, for unconditional love, and for the creatures, great and small, who bless us. Thank you for Maggie and Josie and all our beloved friends who run through the fields of joy forever.

If you have not put Richard Rohr’s book, The Universal Christ, on your reading list, do it now while it’s on your mind. This book has the potential to reshape how you think about faith and life. Among the many highlighted sentences and sections in my copy are these words: “The point of the Christian life is not to distinguish oneself from the ungodly, but to stand in solidarity with everyone and everything else.” That sentence is worth expanding. The goal of the Christian life is not to determine who is good and who is bad; it’s not at all about my personal salvation. It is about complete immersion in God; waking to what is, not simply preparing for what will be. I would add: to live the life of Jesus, we are not called to be religious, but to be real; angelic, but to be authentic; holy, but to be whole; saved by belief, but awakened to life; spiritual, but to be human.

To be his disciple is not limited to creed but is all about conduct. I’m always amazed at Rohr’s candor and courage, given that he’s still on the roster of the Franciscan Order of the Catholic Church. His words must challenge many. But, then, truth always does.

I would like for you to meet a group of new friends. They came to stay a week, maybe ten days. Their arrival was a complete surprise; no notice given. But that’s alright, we can make room in our two bedroom apartment. I say new friends, but I met one of them several years ago in a similar situation. Happily, they don’t require special treatment, they seem to mix together quite well, and if all goes as planned, they might be off to their next unannounced stop in a week.

So, say hello to Paxlovid, Mucinex, Nyquil, Tylenol, Lidocaine, and Benzonatate. Last name: Covid-19. Pax is the one I met before…hasn’t changed a bit, looks just the same. Honestly, I’m glad they’re here. Their visit will be beneficial to me and, I hope, pleasant for them. But there is one thing I’m wondering about: how do you handle unexpected, even uninvited guests who show up at your door? Or, stated a different way: when life changes suddenly, disrupts plans, introduces an element of havoc, dictates when and where you can go…what do you do? Lots of options, some of them good, some not. Once the shock is over and these guests move in, I try to remember a wonderful bit of wisdom from Virginia Satir, renowned family therapist. Something like this: “Life is not what it’s supposed to be. It’s what it is. The way you cope with it is what makes the difference.” And wouldn’t you know it: I get the same advice when I complain to Jesus. Just live one day at a time, he reminds me. Tomorrow will take care of itself. I’ll stick around and give you some company, if you like.

Always good to know you’ve got a friend to talk to. So, there you have it. I will be hospitable to my friends, but, truthfully, I’ll be glad to see them go. They’re looking for a next stop. Any takers?

Do you think there’s any good reason God made Grackles? Just look at him. Strutting around with his beak up in the air. I’ll bet if he ran for the U.S. Senate he’d get elected. For some reason, we seem to be enamored of people who are out of touch with reality. Maybe Grackles would do as well. But, in all honesty, the Grackle is a pretty smart bird. He knows how to command attention with that big, loud voice. He wears nice shiney feathers and has a sharp eye that sees anything that moves. He knows the value of living in a community because he’s always surrounded by a flock of friends.

I have long been of the opinion that you and I can learn life lessons from just about anything the Lord made. Probably Grackles, too. I think I’ll start a list of all the fine attributes the Grackle brings to the world. Why don’t you do the same thing. After you’re fully awake and in touch with the day, start a list of all the life lessons you can see in a flower or a tree or a mountain or reflections in a pond or just about everything you see today. The exercise will be good for your brain, might even warm your heart, and will certainly make you think about gratitude. There’s a phrase in an old Abba song that says: “I believe in angels; something good in everything I see.” Grackles? Probably.

When I read news reports or stop on a TV news channel, I often feel powerless. I’m one little dot in a universe of complexity. I have no way of influencing the course of human events. Darkness is inevitable. But that’s not right, at least the part about being powerless. “The most common way people give up their power is by thinking they don’t have any.” Thank you, Alice Walker. I needed to hear that.

The mistake I make is thinking that my little efforts won’t change anything in the long run. I focus on the outcome and not the effort. “Nothing will change, so why bother.” In other words, my response to danger or evil or threat isn’t enough to make a difference. In that case, I am powerless. Yes, but…

What if you effort joined my effort? What if our effort became part of a bigger collective? My faith reminds me that Jesus wanted to shift the world toward goodness, change the course of human life toward a deeper relationship with The Sacred, which would alter our insatiable need to conquer and control. Could he have done that all by himself; just snapped his fingers and produced the results? What we know is that he chose a different way. He found one person, and then another, and then another, until he had a collection of “I can’t do that” people. Long story short: everybody has the power to affect change when they link arms and walk together.

I am powerless if I believe I am. But, I’m not and you’re not because “greater is He who is in me than He who is in the world.” Because you count in the overall scheme of things, and so do I. Because I believe what He taught long ago. Because I am not alone in the effort: the Spirit is there and you are there. Immediate results? No. Hard road to travel? Yes. Worth the effort? Absolutely.

It has been a few years, but I’ve ridden in cycling groups (Pelatons) like this one in a recent Oro Valley race. It can be just a little scary, elbow to elbow with another rider who wants to get up to the front and who wants to move over into your space. One shouted phrase you’ll often hear in a big group like this one is: “Hold your line!” And that means, don’t swerve or invade someone else’s space because the result would be a catastrophic crash. In a group like this one, when one rider goes down, many riders go down. And just because someone did not hold their line. Hitting the asphalt at 25 miles-per-hour is not something you want to experience.

It occurs to me that “hold your line” is not a bad phrase for the spiritual adventure, too. Be faithful, press on, stay the course, don’t give up…”hold your line.” Faith’s admonition to stay strong is underwritten by the promise: “I will be with you always.” I pray that today, when decisions come or doubt arises, each of us will “hold your line”, stay strong, don’t quit, pedal on!

One of my favorite photos. It is not about a walk through Fall leaves. It is about a walk through life; looking around at wonder after wonder, gasping and laughing and feeling great delight. But, most of all, it is about holding Father’s hand; a strong hand; a gentle hand; one to trust so completely that you forget you’re holding it. A hand, though, that keeps you moving in the right direction: safely and joyfully. A hand that holds a little tighter when you want to wander off or chase falling leaves into potential danger. There is an old hymn of the church that says: “This is my Father’s world…” And it is. And it’s nice to hold hands and walk through it together.