The Voices of St. Johns Youngstown

I finally got my latest COVID booster. I had been waiting since August for a time I could be sick for a few days, because I heard this one was rough. Eventually you have to take your chances for the greater good. I was thinking of Boar’s Head in particular. And I got it, and was at work the next day with only minimal yuckiness.

I was telling a friend this story and she said there is a new COVID variant out there, heading straight for us like a hurricane. She had heard that the booster I just got didn’t help much against the newest strain. We talked about the choices we were making in terms of social gatherings and work schedules, and shrugged our shoulders. Who knows what is best?

When I got home I looked up information on the new variant, and the booster does help according to CNN. I was relieved about that. I wanted to think that everything was going to be fine, but that is simply something no one can say. I have been careful but doing mostly what I want to do. Maybe I should start wearing a mask again. My life is complicated by lots of large gatherings and the fact that I have grandkids I want to spend time with regularly.

Our current reality is that we live with a constant high level of anxiety. We pretend otherwise. Maybe we don’t even pay attention any more. But every day, every minute we could get sick and there is nothing we can do about it. And while in some ways that has always been true, maybe it also hasn’t been quite so scary.

This stress takes a toll on our lives, our health, our relationships. It eats away at our pretense of normalcy. It causes us to question things we never considered before-like the potential dangers of grocery shopping. It makes us wonder where God is in all of it.

And here is what God is saying to me about it—take care of yourself. Exercise and eat a healthy diet. Cherish your family and friends and tell them you love them. Do things that are meaningful and generous and make the world better. Be reasonable about your choices, savvy, with the right amount of caution. Stop expecting what we have called normal, and build something better.

Understand the toll of this anxiety beyond your control and be kind to yourself and others.   And choose your coping mechanisms with intention.

I have a mental health therapist. I started with her in the thick of the pandemic when I thought I might lose my mind. Now we meet once or twice a month online, and I get the support that I need to stay healthy. I am so grateful .

I am telling you this because I want you to know that being in therapy is a good thing. It is not a sign of failure, a sign of weakness, or something to be ashamed to admit. In these tridemic days when grief is still raw and no end is in sight, when things are not “back to normal”, we all need extra support and a sympathetic ear.

It is critical to take care of yourself. Depression is serious. Anxiety is serious. I was a clinical social worker for 10 years and 90% of my clients were people who just needed some extra support, or maybe to look at things through new eyes. People who needed to know that what they were experiencing was real and painful, and that with a few adjustments things would probably get better. We need to be heard. Our pain needs to be acknowledged. We need help, and that is normal!

As a society, we have suffered tremendous loss, uncountable griefs. We have had the rug pulled out from under us, and have no idea what normal means anymore. We keep getting disappointed. It’s a lot. And it is happening to everyone at the same time. Everyone is uncertain and grasping and struggling to breathe. There can be no healing until we recognize our communal and personal damage.

What I pray is that you take care of yourself. That you get the help you need. Be careful of the ways you medicate your sorrows and frustrations. Be gentle with your neighbor, who is feeling the same way. Understand your impulse to take your pain out on others, and be careful. I see this happening a lot. Let’s be wise about this reality.

I hope you have 3 people to call when things get bad (put me on your list). I hope you have a plan to find joy. I hope you exercise and eat well. I hope you have a therapist. Let’s pray for each other and support each other to do what we need to heal from the trauma of the last two years.

When I exercise I watch TV, usually cooking competitions. Last week I had such a bizarre experience with the show I was watching. It was edited all wrong, in every shot. You saw half a person, or not the person talking, or the floor. I almost never saw a shot of the baked good being presented, or all of it.

It was surreal, and yet I couldn’t look away. You knew what was happening from the sound track but not from the visual. Again vaguely and sometimes completely disturbing, but so oddly compelling. When the show was finally over I was relieved! The next episode, things were back to normal. Thank goodness.

As I was processing the whole experience, I realized the holiday season is that way for me. Kind of surreal, not always focused on what matters, rarely showing the full and lovely picture. We are assaulted by advertising, worldly expectations and our own insecurities. What if I say I don’t want to exchange gifts because I have everything I need? What if I say I don’t want to drink alcohol because it is becoming a problem? What if I don’t have the same number of stocking stuffers for each child?

The list goes on, ready to disengage us from the joy and hope and awe of the
season. Don’t let it. Stand firm. Make sure Christmas is about the coming of your Savior, grounded in love. Practice adoration, wonder and the profound generosity of God becoming human. We have been given the greatest gift. Make sure you are enjoying the love sent to you.

Have a Merry and blessed Christmas!

I have made two decisions. First, I am making the writing of this blog one of my New Year’s resolutions. I have missed the weekly discipline and I am going to try to get back in the swing.

I have also decided to see secular Christmas music as a gateway drug. It has never been clear to me how wanting a hippopotamus for Christmas connects to Jesus. But maybe it doesn’t have to be clear to me. Maybe this is just one more thing that I have to let go of controlling and let God do what God does- use unlikely messengers.

When I was a kid, my parents used to sing in the car, and the frequency was even greater during the holidays. My Dad had a lovely tenor voice and my mother provided the alto harmony. They were really good. And thinking about them singing their rendition of Silver Bells still brings tears to my eyes. That is Christmas to me as much as anything else.

People find their way to the generosity of God’s love in a million unique ways, and my job as a believer is to support that. So if mommy kissing Santa Claus is a sign of God’s love for you, that brings me joy too. We as a culture, and me as a person, have gotten too critical and fussy. And if I am honest, I am dreaming of a white Christmas as much as you are.

Praying we can all bring the compassion and love of God back into Christmas!

This morning I stood in front of my jewelry box and held in one hand a lovely silver cross. In the other was a bead that a friend had made, strung on a black rope. Which to wear?

For several years I have been moving away from cross necklaces. At first I embraced them as an advertisement of my being Christian. I want the world to know. I am not ashamed of the Gospel. But as the loudest expression of Christianity moves farther away from what I believe, I have become more inclined to let my life be an example rather than my wardrobe choices. I want my actions and intentions to point people to God without any confusion about what positions I take or my political party.

For a while, I prayed about wearing the cross as a reminder, almost a yoke. When I wore one, I was reminded whose I was. I was reminded to be an offering, a sacrifice. I also like to hold it when I pray. The cross is a constant and gentle reminder to make good choices, to choose compassion and love. I figured if I am going to wear it, I will strive to live it. But then am I off the hook when I take it off? Does my accountability depend on my fashion choices?

What nags at me is that the cross is an instrument of torture. To make it into jewelry is to dilute the harshest of realities. Jesus bled on that cross, endured untold pain on that cross, felt the depths of rejection on that cross. I don’t know if the place to ponder that is in an expensive, gold, dangling replica.

This week’s reading from Hebrews (13:1-8) says that we should remember those who are being tortured as if we ourselves were being tortured, among other things. When you wear a cross are you offering yourself to that? People all over the world and in our very city are being tortured one way or another every day. Some of them for what they believe, some of them for being who God created them to be. What does my cross say to them? How do I offer myself as a sacrifice? Am I willing to suffer on this cross?

Maybe I’m just cranky because it’s the end of the summer, but this is what I started my day thinking about. What is the best way to express my intention to love and follow Jesus? What do you think?

I was reminded this week about the need and joy of spiritual companionship!

One of my inspired colleagues asked if anyone wanted to join a weekly study group for preachers where we talk about the upcoming readings and pray together. I was incredibly excited because I have never had a group like this before, and I liked the people who signed up. Such a valuable thing to hear other voices, other experiences, other struggles in relation to the readings. It can never just be about me and my point of view.

We really do need each other. Christianity is a communal experience. We are part of a Body, the Body of Christ. And as St. Paul so beautifully said, we cannot be a body part separate from the body. Once a body part is separated, it dies. Connection is essential. It is a beating heart, breath flowing in and out, stretching and reaching for more.

That is why we come to church. Because frankly we can’t manage the Christian life, with its many demands and challenges, by ourselves. We need you. We need your prayers, your hard work, your input and ideas, your generosity. We need to hear what God is speaking to you. You are precious and loved and appreciated. And…you need us too.

When I think about our baptismal promises, from believing to living our beliefs to respecting the dignity of every person, it’s actually pretty overwhelming. Possible with God’s help. But we are baptized into a community. And I think that maybe God made the covenant challenging so we would reach out to one another, so we would recognize how much we need each other.

Find yourself a community of people you trust, who have integrity, and who try to live what they proclaim. Find yourself a spiritual companion or two who will specifically pray for you and tell you the truth. Pick out a few people you admire and want to be like as mentors, and ask them your questions. God has provided who you need. And be ready to be that companion for others.

There is a joy in this companioning that is unique and wonderful.

Don’t live without it!!

Yesterday at Rotary the person who was supposed to lead the spiritual reflection was unable to attend. And when they asked for a volunteer, no one spoke up and all eyes turned to me. As far as I am concerned it doesn’t take special skill to find God’s presence in the world. So I like to wait before I am volunteered for a few minutes to give everyone a chance. And no one wanted to be on the spot. So I walked up to the podium. I had had a pretty stressful morning. Suddenly there are a million things going on and I was feeling behind. I don’t like to feel behind. So as I am trying to come up with something to say walking to the front of the room, my mind was full of anxiety and negativity, which never translates into a hopeful message. I basically told God (and I mean told) to speak through me. And out came this story of being a little overwhelmed but realizing how many people are ready to be there and help, that we are a part of a community of care, that we never have to feel alone or overwhelmed. People were nodding their heads and smiling. All good.

I learned/was reminded of two things in that moment. The first is that God is there, ready to help, always with a message of hope. I just had to get out of the way and trust the good to come. Along with that, God is always telling me just what I need to hear.

The second thing is the truth that we are not alone. That moment gave me the energy to organize several things that are looming and a little intimidating to me. When I started asking for help, people said yes. Not everyone, which is fine, but a lot of help and support started coming in. And I thought to myself, I could make my life easier by just trusting in the first place rather than having to give a public prayer about it.

So, here is your reminder. Ask and you shall receive. You are never alone. God is a God of hope and gives you what you need to do what you are called to do.
Amen!

Every morning that it doesn’t rain I water my garden with the green plastic watering can and look for beauty. It starts as I turn on the outdoor spigot which has a handle shaped like a hummingbird. I offer appreciation. With the first full can I walk to my tiny vegetable patch. I sprinkle the marigolds and the green beans. Something is eating the bean’s leaves but not the beans themselves. I offer appreciation.

The tomatoes are next, starting to produce flowers, and then the peppers, all poblanos this year. As the water falls I see new peppers forming. I offer thanks. Then the herb pots, hardy and green. I try to smell them and plan what I will use for the day. I offer thanks.

I refill the watering can and pull a few weeds. Not all of them but a few. I water all the flowers in bloom. I see the rose bush with a few more buds. I offer appreciation. Then the perennials I planted this year and the two pots of pansies that persist. I reflect on how it is in nature to carry on, to offer beauty for as long as possible. I offer thanks.

The whole process takes 10 minutes. Mornings can be hectic. But this short time of gratitude sets the tone for my day. It reminds me that I have a choice in what I look for, what I notice. Evil and pain are unavoidable, but so is beauty.  May you see the beauty God offers us in creation and in each other! Remember to look!

For the YWCA Stand Against Racism 21 Day Challenge, I read an article about “period poverty.” The article was about the barriers menstruation caused young women who can’t afford pads and tampons. The number of missed school days due to lack of feminine protection was staggering and discouraging.

On the positive side, schools are starting to do something about it. At St. John’s we have collected hygiene products for YSU and a local elementary school for several years. It was a bit of a learning curve. The first year one of our older gentlemen showed up with 100 pads, legal pads of paper. 

There are schools who are putting free vending machines in their bathrooms so girls can get what they need. There is no reason to beg or be ashamed, or to be shamed. All biological females have a period for most of their lives. We should be more organized about this.

I was discussing the problem with one of our parish members, and she was stunned at the number of obvious solutions that would solve this problem. We shook our heads. But as I was driving back to the church it struck me that some life complications are pretty simple to take care of, we just have to pay attention, have some compassion and believe we can make a difference.

Don’t let anyone put a damper on your goodness and generosity. It is easy to get distracted or overwhelmed. Easy to think it is all too much. But in fact you can make a significant difference in people’s lives. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise!

Your goodness makes the world a better and more hopeful place. Thank you for all you do!

Holy Week is one of the great privileges of my priesthood. The last two years of not being able to fully engage in the worship of Holy Week was devastating to me. Each step is essential to the process of accompanying Jesus to the cross, rather than denying him. The cheers of Hosanna on Palm Sunday when everything seems possible; the extravagant act of love when Jesus washes the disciples feet on Thursday; the acceptance and veneration of the cross as the means to our salvation on Friday; the reliving of our salvation history leading to the joy of resurrection on Saturday; and of course the exultant joy of Easter morning. Every step is essential.

Please come. Your presence is what allows this to happen. Dedicate some of this coming week to Jesus. It is a small sacrifice compared to what you have been given. And your heart will be full.