A Voice crying in the Wilderness

John the Baptist refused titles of messiah or prophet. He said simply: "I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness, make straight the way of the Lord."  His voice retains its thunder even today. It is so clear it lights up our hearts and captures our attention. There is one coming, it says, watch for Him.

How is it that even today, two thousand years later, we can still hear that voice? The character of his voice brings the message. It is urgent. I need to hear it every year at Advent.

It got me to thinking about how important distinct voices are.

When I read something interesting I hate to say goodbye to it. I tell myself: "I have to remember this." It could be because a narrative was engaging or an op-ed piece was particularly well-thought-out. What I really enjoy is writing that finds the gold within the ore of life and extracts it for me. Some paintings move me this way but more oftern it is a really good writer.

Richard Rhodes has a short piece in today's Wall Street Journal (I love Saturday's Review section because there is no financial news in it.). He tells us how he feels about writing in a distinct voice.

For Rhodes constructing poetry is like watchmaking, non-fiction writing feels like woodworking and fiction is more like throwing clay.

His theme is that writing, to be good writing, has to be edited, though not necessarily by anyone other than the author. The first edition has to be related to "voice." Who is speaking? Our writing shouldn't be simply a transcription of ideas which we hear on our heads, half-formed usually. Often it's someone else's voice which simply appears from out of our memory but which is notthe author's voice.

School papers, emails, brochure writing need different forms of writing, different sounds and, often, dialects of the language of everyday conversation.  You edit your self-talk into a voice that your reader can understand clearly. The point of writing is the reader. The reader has to find an "anchor" in the writing that settles the reader into a particular point of view through the voice you have chosen to use.

My college professor, Elias Chaisson, used to stare down our class with stuff like: "Sloppy writing is born of sloppy thinking."  That's another way of saying, "Write with a voice that your reader can recognize in a world of competing noise."

John the Baptist's voice I recognize.

I want, also, to remember the voice of Richard Rhodes. I'd like to listen to him again.



See:
Richard Rhodes, Wall Street Journal, 11/10/2011. p. C12.

The Son Also Rises

This weekend we turn our clocks back, observing the ritual of gaining an hour of sunlight in the morning.
Thank God! It is dark at 6:30 AM and it will be nice to wake up to light and begin the 6:15 AM Mass at dawn.

But tomorrow will be dark in the morning and perhaps that's appropriate for the celebration of All
Souls Day.  Our school children will attend the 8:15 AM Mass to hear the names of all those who have been buried from our Church during this year.

For me, I can think of dying and death with more emotion than when I was young.Unlike the smiling young faces who will pray for all the deceased, I can't be too far away from my own expiration date.

"Children, where do we go after we die? Up to heaven or that other place? What about the sins that we still have on our souls at the moment of death?  The Church teaches that it a just and holy thing to pray for the dead.  So, we do. Just as I ask you to pray that God bless me and care for me in this life, when we pray for someone who died, we do the same thing. But, we pray that their sins be forgiven and that they enter into eternal life, that place of warmth and light.

At the 8:15 AM Mass, the sun will have arisen and the new light will remind us of eternal life.
Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them!"

In that new and eternal Jerusalem, there will be no need for a sun to give us light. God Himself is its light.

The Road to Mali



MALIAN CATHOLICS AT SUNDAY MASS

 OMG, it's been a long time since I've posted anything here.  Since the last story, I've been to Africa and Missouri.

I visited the Catholic Relief Service projects in Mali, Africa. Eight days of travelling throughout the country gave me a good idea of the world's sixth poorest nation. Rice with a bit of red sauce is the staple of the country. Water is precious in a land of sand, wind, dust and heat.

In Mali, CRS is working with ongoing development projects while providing nutritious meals for children. By serving those meals at school, parents see a value in sending their children to school.  Like any parents, Malians are concerned that their children have enough to eat. Up to now, formal education has not been a value in a culture where there are few books and fewer jobs requiring schooling.

The Catholic Church in Mali is strong, though only about 3% of the population.  The Mass I attended was jammed with three or four hundred Catholics who celebrated reverently and joyfully. The group of eleven I was with were the only white people at that Mass. It makes me more aware of what it means to be Catholic.

The muslims that work for CRS are quick to explain that muslims and Catholics live and work side-by-side.  Each religious and cultural group tries to respect the customs and religious events of the other. Muslims attend Catholic funerals and weddings and vice versa.

This is a far cry from the radical muslim element and the defensive Christian posture that most of us in the US are used to.  Perhaps, we can learn from the people of Mali how to live together in harmony..

You will be Taking a Long Trip

"You will be taking a long trip." That was my horoscope for today. I laughed out loud when I read that because I leave for Mali, Africa next sunday. It will definitely be a long trip.

 For most people, that kind of a journey would be inconceivable. My brother-in-law,for example, who lives in Chicago, thinks any trip beyond fifty miles is dangerous. Why leave home for the unknown?

But, that's the reason I want to go, to experience the unknown. I like adventure and going to Africa fits well with  my personality. The Lord seems to like to call me to the unknown. I'm not always comfortable with alien cultures but I'm asking Our Lord to give me courage to face what I do not completely understand.

I'm not going on a safari.  I'm going to Africa to experience the work of Catholic Relief Services in Mali. The international outreach American Catholic Church or "CRS" extends a helping hand in over a hundred countries. In Mali I expect to see clinics, schools, and agricultural projects staffed and managed by CRS workers, many of whom are locals.  Because Mali is one of the poorest countries in the world, CRS has several large food dispensaries there. It will be my first experience of that kind of destitution.

By the way, I am going to try to set foot in the province of Timbuktu. I remember that
name as a fabled desert city, isolated and remote.  "Timbuktu," a place where you could simply disappear and be lost forever. These days, Timbuktu in east central Mali is said to be decaying and somewhat abandoned, a far cry from its glory days as an ancient city at the crossroads of several trade routes.  Truck and plane travel move more things faster than caravans of camels.

There are ten of us going, seven pre-theology students from Mundelein seminary outside of Chicago and three priests. The young men will bring energy and a sense of freshness to the experience. I hope some of that stuff rubs off on me. You've got to have "the right stuff" to
be a servant minister in the priesthood. And, now that I think about it,a version of today's horoscope could be prayed over each man as he is ordained to the priesthood. "You are going on a long journey."

Radio Time and Winds of Change

Yesterday, I did an hour on Father Anthony Bus' radio show.  The show airs live during the noon hour and has listeners in four states. It also streams live at Father Tony's website. Complete with a professional producer, an engineer, an intern and a beautiful modern radio studio in the basement of St. Stanislaus Kostka Church in downtown Chicago, this show airs five days a week. St. Stans is also the archdiocesan center for the Divine Mercy Devotion.

Random thoughts while on the way: "What am I doing, driving to Chicago to be on the radio? Who do I think I am? Some celebrity? Harrumph. I'm not ready. I should be more nervous."
Then, I thought:"What t'heck. Here I come ready or not."

Reflections on the experience:

1.  Gratitude that Father Tony thought enough of me to bring me on the show.  How many people get a chance to speak on a powerful station like 750 AM Chicago, and at prime time, between Noon and 1 PM?

2.  Father Tony is an engaging radio personality who has a knack for filling an hour with information, devotionals, prayer and human interest stories.

3.  I added humor to the show. I told stories that made Tony laugh and the other guests (a young woman intern and an older woman supporter) smile. I usually try to get people to listen to me by grabbing their attention with something funny.  I always run the risk of overdoing it or not making my point. But, I think I did both yesterday. I overdid it and made my points.

4.   I was on "Winds of Change" to talk about two things: the founder of the Resurrectionists, Bogdan Janski and my work as a Global Fellow for Catholic
Relief Services.

 Tony and I discussed Janski's conversion to Christ. Though raised a Catholic he fell away in his youth, hit bottom with abuse of alcohol and addiction to sex and then slowly opened his heart to God's grace.  That grace came to him while he participated in bible study and the Eucharist as a member of a group of men dedicated to Christ and the Church.
I hope someone listening to us found it helpful to learn about a man who overcame
his addictions by cooperating with God's grace.

5.  I had fifteen minutes to talk about CRS so I limited myself to promoting Operation Rice Bowl. I think I was successful.

6.  I hope Father Tony invites me back and this time I will be better prepared with
stories that will lift the hearts of listeners. I would like to avoid the bantering that Tony and I did. It was too "inside." It was what we priests do when we are together and kidding one another. Maybe not the best approach for this kind of radio.

All in all it was a wonderful experience for me.

"Hey, Father!"

A message on a marquee fronting a Shell station neare Chicago: "The boss told me to change the sign so I did."  I feel like the guy who needed to change the sign because I haven't posted a message here for some time.

Usually I approach this blog at the end of the day which for me is about 8:30 PM. I'm often too tired to think much, but responsible enough to want to get something down before I miss another two weeks.

Today was the sabbath and I celebrated two Masses. The people were wonderful and the deacons at St. Isidore's are interesting and make me want to know more about their callings. One of them preached at my Masses today.

Deacon Don, whose real job is as a private investigator is a convert. His mother, Episcopalian,  refused to go to his baptismal ceremony in the Catholic Church. She did come to his ordination some years later.  Businessman, father and clergyman, his life is full.

When he told us today of his grandson, William who is handicapped and functions at the level of a child, it was wonderful to see his affection for this boy, now a twenty-two year
old man. He called him "grandson" and "my buddy."

Sometimes, my celibacy hurts.  There are no children in my life and no grandchildren. And, no wife.  Also, no in-laws, pediatric appointments or arguments with a wife. I know where everything is because there is no one around to move things except me.  I also have to worry only about myself most of the time. Let your guard down and that kind of life can make one deveop into a crusty old bachelor.

My prayer life always helps to relieve any pity-party stuff going on in my soul about this
lack of family. Serving in the Church and meeting warm-hearted parishioners reminds me that I have a family.

Maybe I should pay more attention to how people address me after Church: "Hi, Father!"
"God bless you, Father." Hey, Padre! Take care of yoruself, O.K.?

I know the Church is my family and it is enough for me.

End of a Day in Winter

It is the end of the day here in Bull Valley, Illinois. A Friday. In January. And it is frigid
as the sun goes away for another day. I wonder what it is like to be homeless in this freezing weather. The thought itself makes me feel colder.

I guess those who have to be out in the cold develop a kind of numbness to it all --the ice, the snow, the barren trees and bushes. Even the sparrows, like the homeless, are hunched up somewhere saving their strength. 

Light seems to be on a holiday.  The days are short and even daytime is muffled by blankets of clouds.

If I think about it too long I begin to get sad.  Maybe, you do, too.  I miss the light and the warmth of spring and summer. But I guess if we had sunshine and pleasant breezes all the time, we would take it all for granted. Absence does make the heart grow fonder.

The snowbirds are in Florida and Arizona for the winter. I think they miss something by not being with us here and not seeing our houses and cars dusted with snow as fine and white as powdered sugar. However, some people cannot bear these winters. I have a good friend who simply has to fly south when the days get shorter. She suffers with disthymia, or seasonal affective disorder.

Mmmm.... Lack of light can make you sick. There is a sermon in there somewhere but it is late (for me) almost 9:30 PM. Maybe you can find it. Tomorrow will come with all its bright promise and another day will speak in its own way out of the cold darkness.












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