Author: Gayle Catinella

Groundhogs. I hate them. Don’t bother telling me they are cute. I have them at church and in my backyard, and they are destructive beasts. I have witnessed the efforts to rid the church of them, including an undisclosed person in camo staging a surprise raid. They persist. 

So there has been some tough talk around ridding both yards of groundhogs. If they all died tomorrow, I would not mourn. Who are their natural predators? I had better never see one face to face. They would be sorry!

So of course, the other day a groundhog ran right out in front of my car when I was going the legal speed limit, making it hard to miss. For a split second the animal’s life hung in the balance. But not because of me. I slammed on the brakes, and amazingly did not hit it.

Immediately I thought, some tough talker you are. And I spent some time realizing the violence that finds its way into my words. I would never kill an animal on purpose, but I talk like it. So I am resolved to change that. To say what I mean, to be careful of the words I use, and not to engage in violent language even when I am angry. I need to be reminded of that regularly.

We use violent language because it makes us feel powerful. It is saturated in our daily lives, in the news we consume and the programs we watch. So much of what we say we don’t even think about or reflect on. As a Christian I want to be more aware and more intentional. 

In a broader sense I was thinking how hard it is to live in peace with nature. I want to be a good steward of the environment, and I work hard on that. I keep some of my back yard untended so that wildlife can find a refuge. I am careful about what I consume and how it affects the environment. But I realize I want the wildlife that I want, and not groundhogs, rodents or mosquitos.

It is a discipline to live in peace with God’s creation, and we all need to pray more about that, how we live into that. I will never love groundhogs. Ever. But they are my neighbor, and as long as that lasts I have to be at peace with that.

Have you noticed that you can’t find canning jar lids anywhere this year? I had been looking for weeks at any store I went to. Someone finally said that they are impossible to get and would not be available this year. I had already made strawberry sauce and blueberry/lemon/lavender jam, so my stash of lids was thin. 

However, I am a woman of the 21^st century and not opposed to ordering online. So I went to the website of the manufacturer and ordered enough for the rest of the season. I haven’t even started tomatoes yet. I expected to receive them in time to make some onion jam the next weekend.

You know how the various places you order from send you tracking information? Well, I went to track this package after I hadn’t heard anything for a time, and I was shocked that the tracking started in China. That had never happened before. In fact, it never occurred to me that some of what I buy is manufactured in other countries. I know it’s true, I had just never thought about it.

Let me say it takes a long time to get things from China, about a month in this case. And I took that time to contemplate what I buy, if I need it, and where it comes from. I consume my food with awareness. I try hard to shop local. And if there is a “made in America” choice, even if it is a little more expensive, I buy it to support my neighbors. 

But clearly there is a lot I am not thinking about or educating myself on, and I feel the need to pay more attention. Would we change what we order or even want if we knew what went in to making it, where it was made, its impact on people and the environment? I am working on it.

Who would have thought that canning jar lids were such a complicated thing? I am realizing that everything is complicated if I am paying attention. 

The rise in the number of murders in our community is alarming. Many good people are considering how best to respond. How do we as a city, a culture, impress upon young people how precious life is? How do we help them to see the value in nonviolent ways of problem solving? How do we get them involved in solutions that will make our community stronger?

These are all critical questions, and I am grateful for those who are trying to find ways to answer them. However, if we are going to be successful in creating a more peaceful city, we have to look at a bigger picture and ask ourselves some hard questions.

Primarily, how are we modeling respect for life, every life, in our community?

People move to violence when they are desperate. Violence is rarely the first choice or the preferred option. People choose violence because they have tried other ways, because they are tired of the way things are, because they have nothing to lose.

Imagine that for a moment, a life that is so hard, so desperate, that you have nothing to lose.

I don’t have that life. I hope you don’t either. And because of that, it is hard to walk in those shoes. But certainly we have heard the pieces that add up to this. We know the poverty level in this city is outrageously high. Some of our neighbors live without basic services. The pandemic has only made things worse. Racism makes things worse. How long do you have to live in extreme poverty to become desperate?

We know that there are very few options for buying food in our city. You have to drive to the suburbs for good food in most cases, and if you don’t have a car, if you can’t drive because of health conditions, if the one car in your family is claimed by the person who is working, what do you do? The bus is a good option, if you don’t have small children or a disability, if you have time to wait. How long do you have to live without access to healthy food to become desperate?

There are other problems in our community that are also easy to overlook, or to say we are working on. Promises are made, initiatives are started, small successes are celebrated. Good work is being done. But if you are poor in this city, and so many people are, it is a tough life. And if that life is all you have known, if you have been raised in desperation, than despair and nothing to lose are not far behind.

I want the young people in our community to know they are cared about not because we are afraid of them, but because we value them. And we show we value them by making sure they are well cared for. We show they matter by listening and including them in solutions that work. 

Let’s be careful as we try to solve the problem of violence that we are listening, and then acting on what will make a tangible difference in the lives of our fellow citizens. We must address the reasons for desperation and offer real hope. 

On occasion I am asked to help with a parish that is in the process of hiring their next priest, and recently I was able to do a mock interview with a parish in the diocese who is going to start receiving names and wanted some practice. It is actually pretty fun to talk about the good things happening at St. John’s and give them some feedback about their questions. 

One way or another I am always asked about the future of the church. There is a real anxiety in big and small congregations about what is coming. And every time I say that the future of the church is fabulous. That there is every possibility for good things to come. That there is no reason not to grow. There is plenty of good work to do. 

In response, I see a mixture of relief and skepticism. Like someone is going to tell them they are failing because they think in some way that they are failing. And when I don’t say that, they don’t quite believe it. So I explain. We have to work for it, of course. We have to pray, to follow God’s call, to be out in our neighborhood being good neighbors. We have to be joyful, have worship that people want to come to, and be welcoming. It isn’t handed to us. Like all good things, community happens because we work at  it.

This parish I spoke to is delightful, and they will be fine. And St. John’s is a gem, and we will also be all that God is calling us to be. It takes intention, and an open heart. God gives us the gifts we need. And as I start my 8^th year here, I am more convinced than ever that all will be well. If we keep God in our hearts and use Jesus as our example, we will be effective signs of God’s love. 

Join me in being grateful for all we have, and hopeful for all that will be. 

As I prepare for summer travels, I have been surprised by the number of people who ask me if I am afraid to travel alone. Just yesterday I was talking to a friend who listed all the dangers of one of the places I will visit. And last week someone wanted to discuss weapon options. 

I travel a lot, and I consider myself to be careful. I don’t take unnecessary chances or tempt fate. I try not to look like a victim. And it is my fundamental belief that people are good, and that violence begets violence. 

I used to run a homeless shelter in Chicago in my younger days. I have been threatened in multiple ways, I have been in many dangerous situations. I can think of 3 times that I was actually hurt, and in each of those circumstances, I used violence. I might have had a superior attitude, I might have not been as kind as I could have been, I might have threatened to call the police. I was never physically violent but I was using my power to try to control someone. And that rarely turns out well.

The times when I was compassionate, the times when I tried to give someone what they needed or wanted, the times when I de-escalated a situation, those were the happy endings, and they were by far the rule rather than the exception. I did not display fear, and I offered kindness, and that takes care of a lot. 

Now does it always work? No. Are there “bad” people out there? Yes. I watch crime shows and the news. I know that the world is a dangerous place. I also know I don’t have the strength to win a physical altercation and that if I started wielding a weapon I would probably end up hurting myself. 

For me the most practical answer to safety is to believe that the person standing in front of me, in this moment, is good, and if I call upon that, if I believe that, I will be OK. The power of love overcomes evil. The power of goodness overcomes the bad. I have lived this, and I know it is true. 

So pray for me that I have safe travels, and that I might find the good, find Christ, in all people.

Daunte Wright. I am heartbroken and horrified at his death. 

As a police chaplain, I am careful what I say about this. There have been times that I have wanted to speak out, express anger, but then I think about all of the men and women who I have ridden with and talked to over the years here in Youngstown. They are such good people doing a very hard and dangerous job. Know how much I admire and value them and pray for them.

And there is a problem. Racism is a problem. Stereotyping is a problem. White supremacy is a problem. Cheap violence is a problem. Fear is a problem.

When I was in college I heard  Black man speak about how he felt when people saw him and locked their car doors. Car locks were more obvious back then. He expressed his horror that anyone thought he might hurt them. And I felt so guilty because that was what I was taught as a child. You drive into those “bad neighborhoods”, which is code for Black neighborhoods, and my Dad would tell us to lock the doors. 

When I walk now in Wick Park in the mornings, I say hello to everyone. But I am especially careful to greet any person of color. Not because I am afraid of them, but because I don’t want them to be afraid of me. I want them to know I am not dangerous or fragile or crazy or racist, and I will not do anything to endanger them. There have been too many stories about mean white women.

Fear is a problem. We have been taught to fear each other. And because of that we overreact, we jump to conclusions, we make bad choices. Most people are nice people, good, kind, generous, willing to help, wanting to be connected in community. There are some dangerous people, but the numbers are actually low. We just hear about them more, they make news. It has us thinking we have to be afraid when in fact we don’t. We have to give each other a chance. 

The problem is that the stakes are different. For white people, there is a danger of being misunderstood, feelings hurt. For Black people, there is a danger of being killed. It is not an even playing field. Our being able to be in relationship is literally a matter of life and death.

Well the Easter desserts are eaten, the leftover ham is in the freezer and the disciplines of Lent are a fading memory. It is always lovely when Easter is accompanied by trees flowering, cascades of daffodils and even a dandelion or two. Gets us in the mood for new life and new opportunities.

I also think this is a good time to do a little Lenten review. What did you accomplish through your Lenten work? Are there good habits that have formed? Did you like yourself better when you drank less? Are you fitting into your spring clothes after Lenten restraint? Are you missing the prayer time that connected you with God in a lovely way?  What worked, what didn’t?

I would offer that some things are worth keeping, or at least being more intentional about. I ate less meat in Lent, looked for Black-owned local businesses, and prayed daily the prayers you had written. Those were good things that I will continue to pursue. A few things were worth doing then but not now. That is the nature of Lenten practice. 

Clearly some of the things that helped us turn our lives around also contribute to a resurrection life. We want to focus on new life and joy, and being intentional can help us do that. What practices keep you positive, help you believe that with God all things are possible, help you to count your blessings??  You can let go of thinking of them as a chore and help them to become a blessing.

We are Easter people. How will you make that matter to you? How will you live it in the world with wonder and joy?

It’s Holy Week, and the aspect of this time that makes me sick, that is a punch in the gut, is the unnecessary violence. When I went to Israel both times it was the pit that Jesus was lowered into to wait Thursday night, wet, dark, sharp with bare stone, that drove home for me just how alone Jesus must have felt, just how painful this must have been. Just how cruel the world can be.

This morning I was scrolling through my email and saw a post from a neighborhood group about someone shooting out of their car down Belmont Avenue last night. And there it was, more unnecessary violence. More building up of hate, misunderstanding, revenge. 

We are told that Jesus suffered so horribly to end all suffering. I am not the first person to point out that just didn’t happen. My current theory is that we are willing to say that violence is unacceptable until we think we need it, and we are unwilling to look at all forms of violence with equal judgement.

What about the violence of poverty? Is it a coincidence that most violence occurs in areas of the most desperation?  We can all agree no one should be hungry, everyone should have a job that pays what it takes to survive, we need to improve our housing stock. Who is willing to give up some of what they have to make that happen? What will we sacrifice for our brothers and sisters?

We say that we are against the violence of racism. But we are unwilling to address the economic disparities that racism has caused that would help create a more equal playing field for people of color. We are unwilling to stand against laws that limit voting or gerrymander districts to disenfranchise whole groups of people. 

We say that domestic violence is wrong. But where are the laws that protect victims? Where are the laws that protect rape victims? Where are the laws that protect children from abuse? These are separate issues but all point in the same direction. We are unwilling to take on the power that is being protected. 

All violence is not physical. And violence cannot happen without support from the community. But we can’t pick and choose which violent system we want to change. It’s all or nothing. Until we stand strong and willing to give up something of ourselves, we will continue to see the suffering of Jesus in too many of our neighbors.

I do not like the word tolerant. It implies that you are not passionate, not fully engaged. To be tolerant is to do just enough, which most of the time is not enough.

I went to lunch yesterday with some of the international students. (How I miss going out to lunch!!!) I was particularly interested in their safety in light of the attacks on Asians that have been happening lately. I had checked in with them a few months ago when things started heating up in California, and they said they were OK. But with the murders in Atlanta, I wanted to check in again.

Several of these students were from countries in Asia, and they said they had not been mistreated at all. The Black student mentioned that she has had bad experiences in Youngstown, but the Asian students had not. I was relieved for the Asian students. I don’t know exactly what I might have done if they had specific complaints, but there would have been some action. Advocacy for the Black student is ongoing. 

Interesting to me was what they wanted to talk about. They wanted to talk about meaning, what matters in life, who they are close to and why. They wanted to talk about career paths, and how you chose a career that made a difference. They wanted to talk about connecting with people and helping others. It was a lovely and deeply meaningful exchange with people who are going to make the world a better place. People who are passionate about life. 

Once again I feel compelled to say that it is not enough to say you are against violence against any group of people. It is not enough to bemoan other people’s bad choices. It is not enough to be tolerant. That young man in Atlanta learned violence, learned hate, learned dysfunction.  Someone taught it, modeled it and probably encouraged it in his life. 

So what can we do? Speak up. The jokes aren’t funny, the slurs are unacceptable, violence is never the answer. Unless you say that, those exact things, then maybe the only thing a young man will learn is hatred. Call family and friends to make sure they feel safe. Offer to be with them, to walk with them, to shop with them, to accompany and not to control. Tell people that they matter, that kindness matters, that life matters. Make an intentional and bold difference.

Last week I went to Rotary in person for the first time in literally a year. I have been on their zoom option so I have been able to see people, hear the great speakers, and remember the kind way they treat one another, which is what attracted me to that group. I also had the seed money for the weekly raffle, $100, in a zipper pouch in my desk drawer, and I felt it was time to give it back (they knew I had it ). 

It was great to be with people in a social setting. They took good safety precautions, and everyone was careful.  I really miss going out to lunch. But about half way through the meal I realized that my table manners and social skills had suffered during the pandemic. I wolfed down my food, had to remind myself not to talk with my mouth full, and there was no mute button. I had to behave. I was a little shocked. 

The realization that I am used to being alone, eating alone, doing what I want when I feel like it, is important. I have been changed by the pandemic. It has brought out my introversion, made me less tolerant and gracious, less attentive to others. I have to re-learn how to drive at night, what to wear to a birthday party, and how to listen and eat at the same time.  All of that can and will be fixed. But it is critical to realize.

We have all been changed by this past year. It is foolish to think that we can just flip a switch and everything will be back to “normal.” We don’t even know what normal will be. My concern is that if we are not aware of the damage that this has done to us, we will take it out on each other. The joy of being back together will fade soon enough, and then the reality of our time alone will be on display. Will we re-learn how to be a community that gathers in real time, of course. Will it take work? More than we realize. 

So pay attention. Ask yourself hard questions. How am I really dealing with my anxiety? What are the griefs that I have suffered? How do I adjust to the needs of others when I have been so focused on myself? How will I keep the good things that I have become and let go of the challenges?

Let’s pray for each other in this process.