No holy smokes

A coworker, whom I'll call Mark, passed away the other day.He was 60 and his end was not pleasant.

He had smoked heavily for many years and had a nicotine-tinged voice and a horrid hacking cough. His skin was furrowed from decades of tobacco.

He was also the kind of acerbic and brilliant guy who was given an office and a computer, and spent his days reading the paper or skimming the internet. Once in a while, some higher-up would need wisdom or a vision for the future, and they'd drag Mark out of his office to a closed-door meeting. There, Mark would expound, amid fits of chest-rattling coughing, on the obvious direction the company should take. The execs would nod their heads sagely. Mark would tell them exactly what they should be doing next, his sad eyes belying the occasional digs he'd make to failed projects, with the obvious warning not to follow their example. those doomed projects that had not taken his advice, venturing off into the untracked wastes where stupid ideas go to die. Then Mark would be thanked for his time. He would retreat to his office to finish the paper.

Mark ended up (no surprise) with lung cancer. Then a stroke that left him unable to speak or read.A most cruel fate for a man whose reading and voice were his soul's tools. Though his family was devastated, his end was a mercy.

I think of Mark because of the curious approach the priest took when homilizing. "Why, why did Mark leave us in the prime of his life? Why cancer? Why now?"

Anyone who knew Mark and his habits knew the answer: "Because he smoked like a trash pile for 50 years, and was too damned stubborn to stop. That's why!"

A friend's father died "young" in much the same way many years ago. He smoked, but also drank himself sick and violent before finally giving up the booze and smokes. But the damage had been done.

"I guess the Lord was calling him wanted him to come home," some said. I thought, "Yeah. God wanted him home -- in thirty years!"

We do love to comfort ourselves with nonsense:

- A child dies of leukemia. "God wanted another angel!"
- Parents and an infant die when their van blows a tire and rolls into a water-filled ditch. "It was their time."
- A 45-year-old father of four throws a clot and drops dead of a heart attack. "God has a plan."

But why does God have to take the heat when bad things happen to us -- especially bad things that are preventable? Is it blasphemy to blame God for things that are ours to control? Is it sacrilege to suppose that God has plan when maybe he doesn't? Is it the sin of pride to refuse to be liable to the vagaries of nature?

The religious mind insists that God is in everything. To the simpleminded, that means that God causes everything; be it earthquake, train wreck, industrial accident, war or disease, God's hand is in it all. But what if God wants us to refuse to accept the randomness of life? What if his purpose is to make us so sick of chaos that we find ways to banish it from our existence? What if our chore on earth is to learn to predict the earthquake, to prevent the cancer, to banish war, the poverty , the injustice?

Let's be humble enough to accept our lot as the objects of the Universe's cruelest jokes. Let's learn not to palm off our misfortunes on a capricious deity, but to become one who, like God, will "smash the heads of the dragons ... (and) crush the heads of Leviathan." (Psalm 74:13-14)

Godwalks 1

One day, in the cool of the evening, I was sitting on a bench in a city park. Kids were playing on the war monuments. Moms and Dads sat on blankets on the grass, napping, or at least letting their eyes close for a few moments. Ducks touched down in a small pond. A soft breeze blew rippled kisses on the surfaces of the water.

That's when I met God.

He was not an old wizened man in a gray frock and pointed hat as in The Lord of the Rings. He was not bearded and robed like in Michelangelo's Creation of Man. He was not an ample black woman like in The Shack. He was not a rock star in a ballerina outfit, as in Dogma.

He was not even a he. I just call "him" that because I'm a guy and it's easier.

He was just God. You'd know him if you saw him.

God had been walkong along the path that pass in front of me. He slowed and looked at me expectantly when he passed.

"So what brings you my way?" I asked.

"Nothing in particular. I just thought you might notice me this time."

"This time? You mean you've gone by me before?"

"Sure," He said. "Dozens of times. Hundreds even."

"You're not sure?"

"Why keep track?" he said with juist the hint of a twinkle in his eye. "It just makes you sad to think about it."

"You get sad?"

"Sure. Wouldn't you if you walked among people and hardly ever got a nod or a hat tip?"

"I guess, " I said thoughtfully. "So what brings you here today? And why did I notice you today when I haven't those many other times?

"God knows," he said.

"Really?"

"I do, but that's not important. Better if you knew why you saw me when you haven't before. Hey, do you mind if I sit down? I'd hate to block the path. It's so narrow."

"Sure," I said, scooting over to make room on the bench, feeling like I had missed a joke. God sat down wearily.

"So, about those other times you didn't see me..."

I hesitated, trying to reconnect the threads of my thoughts. "Well, in my defense, you do look familiar. Maybe I didn't realize that what I was looking at was you."

"That does happen a lot."

"I think I may have seen you in my imagination," I opined, brow furrowed.

"Most likely."

And I didn't see you, but I felt you once."

"Yeah? And when was that?" God asked, with coquettishly raised eyebrows.

"That movie about the elves. They were so noble and kind. I think I felt you when that beautiful elf queen gave a magical sword to the travelers."

"Yup. I do get that a lot. Though most guys think they're feeling the hots for her."

"Really?"

"Oh yeah. Men can't untangle noble love from lust most of the time. Stir up feelings of nobility in them, and they want to 'marry' it, if you know what I mean."

"Sad to say I do," I said, a bit sheepishly. Talking inner feelings was going to be iffy with God. Probably no point in trying to hide them.

"By the way, for no particular reason, can you...read my mind?"

"No particular reason, eh?" God said, chuckling.

I blushed. "All right. For a good reason -- it would be weird to have someone know what you're thinking."

"It would," God agree. "Humans do spend a great deal of time hiding what they are thinking -- from others and often from themselves."

"So you can tell what I'm thinking?"

"I can tell what you are thinking, and a have a pretty good guess about what you're about to think. I can also read your memories. Even the ones you can't remember yourself."

"Really? Like what?" I said, intrigued and a bit unsettled.

"Well, would you like a cute one, an embarrasssing one or an appaling one?" God said, looking out through the tree trunks to the pond. The ducks were swimming by, a picture of harmony.

"I have an appalling memory that I don't remember?" I said. "Shouldn't I know what it is? It could be dangerous."

"Well, it doesn't hurt, sometimes, to forget. In this case, the player in the memory is long gone and no longer a threat to you."

I paused to let this sink in. It didn't take much to imagine some family member doing something unspeakable. Or a stranger at a mall. Or a nasty kid in grade school. I was disquieted by the thought of being molested -- or nearly molested. Or worse? I thought it might be better off leaving that memory dormant. But wasn't my imagination about it even more distrubing? I could think of a thousand and one things that might behind this long sleeping memory.

God cut into my revery. "You're right, of course." God admitted. "I shouldn't have brought it up. I keep underestimating the versality of the human imagination."

I paused, expecting more.

"You're thinking you had a creepy uncle or aunt, or maybe a priest who molested you. Sorry. But in your case, it was a spider. You were a year and a half old, playing in a sandbox at a park, not much different from this one. You thought it was pretty, with its shiny black belly with the red hourglass underneath. It was crawling on the back of your hand when your uncle saw it, flicked it off and crushed it before it could bite. You were furious. You howled with anger and never trusted him again."

"Uncle Mike," I muttered, half to myself. "I always hated him and never knew why. He was always so nice to me, too." I faced the Deity. "And that was why?"

"That was why."

"He's been dead twenty years. I said. "I wish I could apologize."

"A wish is good as a whisper," came God's reply.

After a moment, I realized I had forgotten what got us talking about spiders and Uncle  Mike. "So where were we?"

"Whether I could read your mind."

"Right. Looks like you can. So how about my future? Can you tell me how my life will turn out?"

"Do I look like Madame Esmeralda?" quipped the Deity.

"What? Who's Madame Esmeralda?"

"That fortune-telling mannequin at the beach arcade. Drop in a quarter and have your future told."

"Well, no. But are your the Lord of all time, or something? Past, present and future?"

"Goodness, where did you hear that?

"You would know, if anyone, right?" I pursued my lips and smirked.

"Fair enough, then. Sister Mary Elizabeth, who taught 4th grade at St. Michael's. It was a September morning, you were sitting behind Janey Beth Martinez, and you were picking a juicy ooger out of your nose."

"All right. All right! Get to the point!"

"Sister was droning on about the qualities of the Father." He leaned over, looked around as if for hidden spies, and wispoered mock conspiratorially, "That's me."

I rolled my eyes. "I get it. Go on"

the Deity's eyes aprakled and he continued. "And she said that God knows all of time, as though it is is laid out before him."

"And?" I interjected. "Son;t you?"

"After a fashion. I jnow nwhat has been, and what is. I also know where things are going if they don't get derailed."

"Derailed? How do things get derailed?

"Humans, mostly. You have free will, though not as much as you like to think. But that's a conversation for another time."

The Deity stood from the bench and stretched.

"Listen, it has been great, but I've taken up enough of your time."

"Seems like we just got started," I protested.

"I gave you plenty to think about for now. Plus, I have other people to visit. Or try to visit."

"Will I see you again."

"Oh yes," he said with conviction. "Now that you have seen me once, you'll have to work hard not to see me! Until next time!"

"Later," is responded somewhat dejectedly. For while a visit with God was not the lolapalooza light show I thought it wouold be, I was disappointed that it was over.

After a few moments, I got up and walked toward the park entrance. KIds were still climbing over the Civil War cannon and playing bide-andseek around the battlefield memorials. The sun was pierecing through the darkeing trees and sending shafts of sunlight and shadow over the manicured grounds.

"I just talked to God, " I thought. "And he knew me like I know myself. Better, even. And all I talked about was some old memories and dumb questions about my past."

Next time, I thought, I resolved to be more prepared

Rocks and rocks

Behold Peter the Saint:

Jesus went into the region of Caesarea Philippi and he asked his disciples, “Who do people say that the Son of Man is?” They replied, “Some say John the Baptist, others Elijah, still others Jeremiah or one of the prophets.”  He said to them, “But who do you say that I am?” Simon Peter said in reply, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.”  Jesus said to him in reply, “Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah.  For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my heavenly Father.  And so I say to you, you are Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church, and the gates of the netherworld shall not prevail against it.  (Matthew 16: 13-18)

Behold Peter the Satan:

Jesus began to show his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem and suffer greatly from the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed and on the third day be raised. Then Peter took Jesus aside and began to rebuke him, “God forbid, Lord! No such thing shall ever happen to you.” He turned and said to Peter, “Get behind me, Satan! You are an obstacle to me. You are thinking not as God does, but as human beings do.” (Matthew 16: 21-23)

Father Ken had a great sermon this Sunday about Peter, the Twelve's Bumbler-in-Chief. In back-to-back readings, Peter goes from blessed to cursed. He starts as the rock, the one strong and solid enough to build a church on, and ends up as the rock, the thing you trip over on your way. Jesus is setting out his mission, which includes leaving the familiarity and relative success of his homeland, Galilee, and traveling to The Show -- the dangerous city of Jerusalem, the den of his challengers, most learned opponents. Not to mention those with the means to have him silenced permanently. Jesus needs to bring his message to the highest representatives of his people. He knows the message will not be well received. Peter seems to think that everything will go well, and that no chump's reception will meet his teacher. But Jesus knows better than to give in to false optimism. He does not go to Jerusalem because he will succeed. He goes in spite of the fact that he knows he will fail, at least in the eyes of his opponents.

Father Ken's take? Stay on mission. When you are called to something, don't let work, fatigue, family obligations or the sheer impossibility of the task deter you.

We live in a world of obligations. We have mortgages, college loans, cars and bills to pay. We feel the limitations of church and society -- not to mention our own physical and mental limitations. We have family "obligations" -- whether a weekly meal or a holiday get-together -- that pull us out of our orbits. We have parents, kids and grandkids who need us. But how about our obligations to our integrity? How about our need to fulfill our God-given mission to look outside of ourselves, to serve those in need?

I don't have a definitive answer for anyone, least of all myself. In Jesus' day, the world was more stark and the necessities more urgent. The world was about to be upended in catastrophe! Jesus was able to tell people to leave their wives, children and jobs to follow him. He could tell a man to skip his father's funeral, or a rich man to sell everything her had. Though some turned him down, many accepted his offer, including Peter, who abandoned his job to follow Jesus. Who knows how his wife and mother-in-law survived his absence? (Though we know that his wife accompanied him as he preached after the Resurrection -- 1 Corinthians 9:5).

In our day, it's harder to see ourselves making the radical abandonment that Jesus asked of his disciples. But in the morass of obligations that make their demands on our time and energy, maybe we can be a little more careful about what we do spend our time on. Will I be late for work if my son calls me on my cell phone as I am heading out the door? Will I risk having people skip my Easter dinner if I don't go to their Christmas gift swap? Am I going to a wedding only to make sure my kids have "family" at their weddings?

Which of my obligations are done to guarantee that unloving  people love me back? And which obligations make me stronger, make love deeper and let me use my gifts for the betterment of all?

Maybe it's time to distinguish between rocks and rocks -- the rocks on which we build lives of love and service, and the rocks that just trip us up and send us sprawling in the dust.