Author: Gayle Catinella

I was in a conversation yesterday about violence. We were reflecting on recent events-a woman shot answering her door, a mother killed during a car jacking in front of her children, gang violence in schools. With each example there was a little more despair, a little more hopelessness. And in frustration we both wondered what could be done.

I have thought about that. Children are taught to be who they are. And as a culture we have to be honest about what we are teaching our children, how we are creating a world where this behavior can be conceived. Unfortunately when you think about the root of this behavior, you come back to the values and examples our children witness every day.

So what to do. Let’s start by taking away the guns. We have a system that makes it way too easy for people to shoot other people. Regardless of where you stand on this issue, there are things we can do to limit the availability of guns in our society. And when we do not, we teach our kids that using guns is acceptable, and that how we use them ultimately doesn’t matter.

Then we might consider how we treat our children. Aside from the obvious, horrifying examples playing out on the news of taking children seeking asylum away from their parents and locking them up, what is the message we send to our children when we underfund education, when we say it is acceptable for a number of them to be hungry or homeless, when we pay daycare providers and teachers low wages? Kids understand that in our culture it is money that is valued and not people. So how can we be surprised when they behave in ways that devalue people?

In the most practical sense we need to widen our circle. We need to love and intentionally form the children in our families to be compassionate and kind, to take care of people and themselves. The impact of this cannot be underestimated. We lead our children into what they become, and we are the examples they have in their lives to see how to be a humane, decent adult.

And we know there are plenty of kids just beyond our reach that need attention, affirmation, a chance to know they matter. There are kids in our neighborhood who are short a parent and could use some attention. There are kids in our schools who need someone to reinforce the values of critical thinking, reading and continuing education. There are kids in our churches who hear us talk about what Jesus would do but don’t always see us doing it, who need to figure out how that plays out in daily life. There are kids in our city who are hungry, homeless, whose parents are making bad choices. They need someone to care and intervene in order to be resilient enough to make good choices when they count.

So, we need to be an example, we need to love beyond our families, we need to send a message with our time and treasure that children in this country and other countries matter! We need to be a part of the solution in whatever way that makes sense for us. We need to speak up when our society, our government, our church acts in ways that devalue any person, take away the humanity of any person. That is how the world begins to change—one loved child at a time.

Because I want to be conscious of the log in my own eye, I have been examining the times when I have called people animals. And I have narrowed it down to two scenarios. The first is at sports competitions when people are achieving spectacularly. I would call someone an animal to lift up their extraordinary speed or strength, in astonishment and awe. In other words, it was a compliment.

The other time was when someone committed a particularly heinous crime, like hurting a child or being a serial killer. I would call these people animals to indicate the lack of humanity towards other people, the lack of human characteristics like compassion and empathy. This was not a compliment.

Now that I hear the President calling people animals, I am ashamed. I have done this, and so I cannot sit on that comfortable moral high ground. I realize that any time we dehumanize anyone, make them seem less that we are, take away the responsibility of being a person, we pave the way for even greater sin. If I don’t see someone as human then when their rights are taken away, when they are treated with disdain and disrespect, when their children are put in cages, I won’t pay attention. I won’t care.

We can only have a safe, holy and dignified world if everyone is my brother and sister, if everyone is equal and regarded with respect, if everyone is held accountable and considered trainable. The minute we treat people as less than people, I can be treated that way. My children can be treated that way. Because the problems and challenges for person at the bottom of the ladder is my problem, because we are part of the Body of Christ together. And any slope that leads to dehumanizing anyone is a slippery slope.

We have to fiercely hold on to each other’s dignity. We have to rigorously protect human rights for every person. We promise this in our baptismal vows. Do not let yourself be goaded into being less than you can be. Do not let someone convince you that any person is not created in the image of God and therefore does not deserve compassion and love. Taking away someone’s dignity demeans your own dignity.

It has to stop somewhere. Time to step up to being a bold Christian.

It has been a great week to be an Episcopalian. Presiding Bishop Curry’s amazing sermon at the royal wedding has given him, and by extension all of us, a lot of positive attention and praise. I have seen his appearances on Good Morning America, the View and the epic portrayal on Saturday Night Live, and my pride at being a member of this church has only increased.

We are now the church that stands for love. And really, we have always been. But the nagging question is, so what? What will we do with this moment to extend its profound effect on the church and the Jesus Movement? How will we take advantage of the moment to God’s honor and glory?

The low hanging fruit is clearly to talk about the church. The opening is there, “what about that sermon???”. The follow up is to tell your own story, why you come to church, why you love God and how you do that in the world. What does love mean? Come and see. It should be the easiest ever to invite someone to come to church, or at least to an event.  You might even mention the great sermons every week…

And it can’t end there. Because we aren’t special because we love one another.  How challenging is that? We are all pretty nice people who get along most of the time. We are a community identified with Jesus because we love our neighbor, as ourselves. So bringing people to church is great. It gives us energy and inflames our passion for justice and compassion.

But, the hard part in all of this is that people will be watching to see if we demonstrate this love in the world. Love is the way, and we have to show to what. Jesus is the example, and we have to show of what. This is a moment to reach out, to reach further, to show love in action by how we treat the world. Maybe even by saying no to hatred, violence and meanness. Now is the time to be constant and consistent in bringing the love of God into the world.

So come to church this summer and bring your friends. Come to the food pantry, the produce giveaway, and the women’s coffee. Come when we volunteer with the Boys and Girls club, or visit with people at the Red Door Café. Sit at the table at the Arts Fest and tell stories and extend the invitation. When you buy the hygiene items or the extra toilet paper, tell the store clerk or the person with you in line why.  

Love is the way isn’t theory. We make it practice, practical, every day. How will you support our Presiding Bishop’s message?

I spent several mornings last week at a murder trial. It was horrible. I had to listen to people that I care about and love recount terrible things done to them and their family. I was on the side of the victim. And I had a lot of time, especially when they were discussing the science of DNA, to think about perspective, and how that defines what justice means.

It is quite clear to me who is guilty in that trial. There is an eye witness, plenty of evidence, and my gut reaction. And I have to say I was irritated that it took so long to have the jury agree. I watched the case unfold, carefully painstakingly presented, crafted by the prosecutors. And I watched the defense try to poke holes, get the jury to think in other ways, essentially do his job. Justice is a slow moving thing.

It was easy to be exasperated with the defense. I can’t believe even they thought their client was innocent. And I was impressed. They had a job to do and they did it. I kept reminding myself everyone has a right to a fair and complete trial, everyone has a right to their day in court, everyone has a right to all of the protections built into the justice system. And the defense attorney was protecting those rights, and earned my grudging admiration.

We vow in our baptism to respect the dignity of every human being and work for justice for everyone. I prayed about that a lot. It is easy to stand back and say who deserves justice and who does not. It is much harder to put aside your feelings about the person and remember that they are a child of God created in the image of God. And even though we all have to answer for our sins, God is the judge, and God takes care of things.

The justice system isn’t always just. There have been plenty of verdicts and recent Supreme Court decisions that have sent me to prayer. I had to ask myself if I wanted retribution or justice, and what I was willing to do to get the justice I advocate for on so many other occasions. I am glad the perpetrator was found guilty. I still pray for God’s justice for the horrible things he did. And to be a witness to the rights of the victims is very comfortable for me.

And I pray for the conversion of hearts, and especially my own. I pray to remember that I am not the judge in any legal system, earthly or divine. I pray to help create a world where it is easier for people to be healthy, to get the treatment they need for mental illness, to be good. That is my responsibility in the justice system, to help build a just world. Sometimes justice is convenient and sometimes it is hard, and sometimes we don’t see it the way we want to, and I still have to pray and work and humble myself before things I cannot control. And to trust God, over and over again.

Let’s pray to be a sign of justice, to be loving to victims and perpetrators, and to be relentless in our creation of a better world.

It has been a while since I have written. Personal family crises have overwhelmed my energy so that I can only seem to get done exactly what needs to be done. One of my recent tasks has been helping to clean out my parent’s condo. I realize in retrospect that my mother had an entire room dedicated to caring for people. She had drawers filled with small gifts, wrapping paper and ribbons, and cards. Boxes and boxes of cards. For every occasion. I took many of them and may never have to buy a Halloween card again.

My mother is like that. She is kind. She remembers. There was a whole stack of cards just saying that someone matters, that she cares. I took those too, determined to distribute them, sometimes randomly and sometimes intentionally. I realized that I have a lot of people I love and think about, and I should tell them so.

Since my Dad’s death a few weeks ago I have been deeply moved by people who have reached out to me. Good friends have called, church members have been so generous. But what has struck me was how many people sent cards. I have loved each one. They have made me feel cared about and connected, like someone understood on some level what grief is about. People I never thought would reach out to me have made my day. Thank you if you are one of those people.

I also collected a small stack of sympathy cards from my mother’s collection. I suspect it has dwindled as she has had more reason to use them with age. I am quite determined to send them all and buy more. I have learned all over again what a difference a small kindness can make. I highly recommend it.

So what did we learn during this Lenten season? We learned that we are not perfect, and that we hurt people, and that we can be irritating, and that we care. We learned that other people don’t always understand us, and that we need to try harder. We learned that we sin, and that sinning is a hard habit to break. And we recognize that the world sins, and we often benefit from that.

Lent is always a time when we see things in ourselves that are hard, that are challenging, that give us wisdom. This is a great opportunity, and the point is to keep learning. The worst choice would be to work so hard to come to this and then walk away because the period for personal introspection is over, and go back to pretending not to know.

We can rejoice to know these things about ourselves, and work to form new, healthy and life-giving habits that overcome our challenges at least a little. We can celebrate the glimpse of what we might become, what we have always hoped to become, and adjust our journey.

We can realize that daily study and prayer are absolutely possible, that not complaining makes us happier, that we don’t need all the stuff we buy and that plastic is a problem we are going to have to keep working on. All good.

Lent is not the only time we try to be better, just a concentrated and communal time. For myself, I pray that I can keep pushing back against my sins and finding a little more good in me every day. I pray that for you as well!

When I helped to run a homeless shelter in Chicago, we housed about 20 people, and also had the house open in the evenings when people needed a place to hang out before the big shelters opened later. The folks who gathered in the basement were the ones who were either really crazy or afraid of people. One of those women, who would hide in the dark parts of the basement, was Phyllis.

Phyllis was really wacky. Talked to herself, yelled at people, essentially did whatever she could to keep people away. And that was what homeless women did, they acted super crazy and dangerous as a way to protect themselves from assault. One night another worker asked if Phyllis could take the opening that came available that morning to live in our house.

I said no way. She was too over the top. She had to be able to live with other people, share a bathroom, get along. I seriously doubted that was possible. But the other worker, Roger, was much more compassionate, and wore me down. Phyllis became my housemate.

And an amazing thing happened. Once Phyllis felt safe and cared for, she was not crazy at all. In fact, she became my friend. She had been abandoned by her husband, left with all their debt, couldn’t make the payments, had no family, ended up on the street.  She never talked about what happened to her on the street, but you didn’t have to wonder too hard because it happens to all women who live on the street.

She took a few months to get her balance again, and eventually she took a job as an administrator of another shelter. She was kind and helpful and so loving to the people she served. All it took was to be treated like a person, treated with dignity, and Phyllis was herself again. I am not saying that cures all mental illness. But many of the people we served at that shelter had mental illness issues, and none of them were ever violent or dangerous.

As a nation, we have to offer help to people struggling with mental illness issues. They need medication, treatment, a place to stay and jobs to do. Just like we all do. But in my experience, this will not solve the shootings in schools.  It is just another opportunity to do the right thing by treating people with respect and care. So I am not against addressing the issues and concerns of mental illness. But I am also for getting rid of the guns.

I have been thinking about how hard it is to be a teacher. We have several teachers at church, and I have been in conversation with them for years trying to offer concrete support. And lately we have been talking about safety. None of them want to carry guns. Some of them don’t mind if other teachers who are qualified carry guns. Some are worried about the change in atmosphere guns would cause, the impact on learning and the free sharing of ideas.

I have also listened to several radio programs which have presented both the fears of teachers with a plea to do something to keep everyone safe, and the outrage about the possibility of expecting them to be armed. And my heart is broken.

It leads me to think about the Gospel last week. Jesus is telling his disciples how he will have to suffer and die and then rise again. And his disciples do not want to hear that. It is not the way they think about a Messiah, not the way they imagine being free. And Jesus says, you are thinking in the ways of the world, and I am telling you how God thinks about things.

Our solution to the problem of violence is caught in the same dichotomy. As a nation, we are thinking about ways to be powerful, to be in control, to fight guns with guns. What we need is to think about God’s way, which is building relationships, loving irrationally, and erring on the side of compassion and care. And we absolutely should not ask anyone to make a sacrifice we are not willing or able to make ourselves.  There is a better way, and that is to make sure everyone has what they need, especially good mental health care, safe homes and adequate education funding for every school.

Hopefully our young people will inspire positive change. But in the meantime, I was directed to a website that helps teachers get what they need for their classroom.  Maybe you have seen the Facebook posts about teachers asking to be armed with markers, books, basic supplies. There is a website, Donor’s Choice, where public school teachers and students ask for help with what they need. I recommend we start there. It seems like the least we can do.

When I was a kid, my dad used to tell us on occasion that he had a gun, that he would use it if anyone tried to hurt us, and that we were not to worry about our safety. Of course, as a child, I completely trusted my dad, and I didn’t worry about our safety. He seemed to have it under control.

But I was fascinated by the prospect of a gun in the house. As the oldest, one of my jobs was laundry. I would fold and eventually do all the ironing. I liked it because I could listen to music, and be by myself. But part of the job was also to put the laundry away, and I was always on the lookout for that gun.

In my mind I pictured a small hand gun, a revolver, stuck in the underwear drawer. Why, I couldn’t tell you. But that was the vision I had. And I looked every time, I moved things around—not too much because I never wanted to be caught. I never thought of looking under the mattress or in a shoe box in the closet, so my efforts never expanded past the initial vision.

As adults I have talked to my brother and sister about the gun, and they all admitted to looking for it as well. Maybe it doesn’t exist, but I think it does. And my biggest fear after the death of my parents is having to find and deal with that gun. But thank God I am doing that as an adult. Because even though we were nice kids from a nice family, would I have pulled the trigger if I found it? Would any of us in rage or in play been able to resist that power? I simply don’t know, and am so grateful I never had to find out.

In my opinion, guns are made for one purpose only, and that is to kill. They are seductive, or the power they offer is. They serve no holy purpose. And if our lives are about holiness and developing a deeper relationship with God, if our purpose is to love our neighbor as ourselves, then there is no need for weapons. I will put on the armor of Christ.

If someone tried to kill one of my children or grandchildren, of course I would do anything to save them. So please don’t ask me ridiculous questions. I also know that there are many ways to prevent harm, and I want to engage in all of those first. I have personal experience with this, and I can tell you that nonviolence is always more powerful.

I believe our greatest danger is relying in weapons over relationship. And the only way to change the trajectory of killing we are on is to love one another. How that will play out for you, I don’t know. But I am absolutely sure it is the only way. Guns are an evil distraction to holy work. Let’s not be distracted.

In my very first parish post-ordination, I was an assistant to the rector, and mostly in charge of youth and outreach. And to prepare for developing new outreach program possibilities, I put a survey in the bulletin. What were people’s interests? The mistake I made was listing a few examples, one of which was something along the lines of a social justice group.

One of the members, an older man who had a reputation for grumpiness, came up to me after the service practically yelling about liberal, radical troublemakers and not at this church and citing some history that I didn’t know about, etc, etc, I was very bad, etc, etc. I was a little stunned by his fierce anger, and that it was directed at me. I said it was a survey and nothing was set in stone, and that his opinion was clear, and thanked him for telling me. I probably didn’t mean it.

He didn’t talk to me for a long time. And so I prayed. Maybe I was naïve to think that I could have a positive relationship with everyone in the parish, but it is still what I hope for and work toward even today. I prayed for peace. I prayed for reconciliation and common ground. I never prayed that he would change, but I prayed that I would, that I would somehow learn the best way to love him. Months went by.

Then one evening in Lent we were having a Wednesday night meeting and meal. I was there early to set up, and was fretting because I didn’t know how to make coffee (still don’t…) and there he was. He said, I know you can’t make coffee. And to his surprise, I hugged him. We didn’t have to change who we were, we just had to focus on love being the most important thing, and being right a distant second.

At the Winter Convocation last weekend, both the presenter and the musician talked about the importance of “managing our adrenaline” or “managing our internal weather”. If we cannot be in control of our emotional life, of our reacting, then we cannot be peacemakers and reconcilers.  Again, not making peace to subdue or ignore. Making peace to build healthy community.

In order to be able to manage my own reactions, I pray, I exercise, I try to see the good in people. I often ask myself how someone might have come to the position or situation they are in, as an act of empathy. I also yell and scream at the radio when no one else is around. The point of it all is to do what I have to do to maintain my own equilibrium, my own internal calm, so that when I am called on to be a non-anxious presence, a witness to God’s love, I can at least give it a try.

How do you manage your internal weather? How can it be an intentional, spiritual  practice?