Sunset - July

A lucky person lives life filled with sharing and receiving love.

Optimism

City life is chaotic, frenzied, topsy-turvy, hectic, anxiety driven, and an unlimited list of other descriptive phrases. But city life can be very beautiful.

July 31

Be thankful for both the dusk and the dawn; for both night and day. Be thankful for both friends and foes. Remember that life is a miracle. Struggle and sacrifice might color eyes with fear and uneasiness. Remember that our vulnerabilities often cloak our greatest strength.

Appreciate the Moment

In the distance voices cheering and applauding could be heard. Sitting alone watching tiny aircraft descend against the sky, my mind is filled with all types of thoughts.

My ears can hear the growl of a lone motorcycle on the street. My eyes can see various street lamps shining. My skin can feel the breeze. My mind can appreciate the beauty of this moment.

Quiet moments are great for being quiet.

In the stillness, wait reflections and understanding. In the still grows patience. Difficult for us being still is.

I can see the red light flashing in the Washington Monument. I can hear the fans of the big rooftop air conditioning units on the nearby building. I can remember walking across the River Thames on a bridge near the Tate. I can remember being thankful for being alive and for having a beautiful, accepting, caring group of friends.

My friends are one of my blessings.

Silent I am. Reflecting I am. At peace and filled with hope and love I am.

Weariness too much worry creates.

Remember that you are always in my thoughts and my prayers.

Please remember to have a laugh for me.

Once upon a time, there were a group of friends, who used to get together for dinner and drinks. And they each discovered living in the city can be hazardous to their sanity. But I took them away from all that. Now, they relax and laugh with me. I hope you remember my name. I remember yours.

Pugilistic Hope

Young hearts want to believe.

Algebraic symbols are good for certain types of modern discourse, especially for the lower forms of monologues which can be heard in bars, restaurants, parks, grocery stores. It is apparent that many people were never encouraged to stumble into a library, look at books, listen to the music.

Walk down any street and you will hear the adopted jargon of the mass media and see the anxiety which is incessantly encouraged. Distrust rules, reason hides.

Thinking about modern life is easy. Writing about it is challenging yet pleasant.

Different things capture our attention, capture our imagination. We live for sensation and interaction. The sky at twilight is beautiful, words can not adequately describe the calm, the sense of serenity that passes through my mind as my eyes glance upward to the moon surrounded by clouds, slowly disappearing. Words can not express the majesty of the sun, a round orb reclining against a cushion of clouds in a bouquet of muted colors.

Looking at the cityscape as a gentle breeze touches my body, a sense of peace moves through my mind.

In the distance, almost on the horizon, dark smoke rises up, without a zoom camera lens the dark, black smoke appears to rise just in front of the dark green treetops. With a lens, the smoke is further away, actually behind the trees.

One of the best things about the Catholic Church is its pugilistic attitude. The Catholic Church continues to argue for social justice, for fairness, for peace, for life. The Catholic Church never takes a holiday, opens its doors everyday to those in need. The Catholic Church asks us to think before we act. Is that how Jesus would have behaved? Are our lives reflections of Jesus' life? How do we love unconditionally and universally?

The church offers hope and a voice for those unable or afraid to speak.

Young hearts need faith.

Books By My Bedside

This morning when my eyes opened, my imagination led me to the bookshelf closest to the bed. For about a minute my mind entertained an idea of writing a very dramatic piece filled with passion and suspense. It was going to be written in the style of a generic, great religious orator.

The idea was replaced with a different idea. Describing a person is always difficult, a modern adult presents only selected views of their lives to the world. It is a given that there are secrets.

Underlying most healthy relationships is a sense of faith.

All human lives are composed of the seen and unseen, stories told and stories untold. Life contains a wonderful collection of trivialities which often interest biographers and gossips. Favorite pop songs and orchestral pieces play in our minds, favorite movie or television scenes provide stylized, controlled conversations. All thoughts are hidden, protected.

Moral education is often hidden, protected with juvenile thoughts. It is in youth that most personalities are created, fortified.

Baptism encourages us to change, to view life through a special lens. Baptism asks us to be compassionate, humble, gentle. Baptism asks us to be merciful, giving. Baptism reminds us to be contemplative, to reflect upon the life of Jesus Christ.

Being a good Catholic in America can be very hard because of individualism which stresses a self reliance and independence which make sense in a rustic, isolated landscape but which causes all types of problems in an urban environment where interaction and interdependence are necessary for security and survival.

Throughout our lives, an unasked question that passes through the minds of friends and family and other acquaintances is just who is writing his/her life.

In an attempt to present one of the hidden parts of my life, I am presenting a list of titles of books have been or are planned to be reference materials for my writing. These books were on a bookshelf in my bedroom. They are all paperback books.

This list is not in any particular order. Please enjoy.

The American, Henry James
Mythology, Edith Hamilton
Great Dialogues of Plato
A History of American History
The Purple Decades, A Reader, Tom Wolfe
The Immoralist, Andre Gide
Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf, Edward Albee
Ogden Nash, Pocket Book
Brief Encounter, Noel Coward
The Oxford Book of Late Medieval Verse & Prose
The Rhymers Club: Poets of the Tragic Generation, Norman Alford
Lexicon of Intentionally Ambiguous Recommendations, Robert Thornton
A Book of Love Poetry, edited by Jon Stallworthy
The Lawrenceville Stories, Owen Johnson
Personality Types-Using the Enneagram for Self-Discovery
The Same Door, John Updike
Present Concerns Essays, C.S. Lewis
Collected Poems 1928- 1985, Stephen Spender
Believing is Seeing-Creating the Culture, Mary Anne Staniszewski

That list of books have been alive within me for years, since my first exposure. That this list is presented completely out of context is both unplanned and yet a brilliant event. The list will not be explained beyond the titles. To historical data will be provided. These books like so many items in our lives influence us, influence our thoughts, conversations, and prayers.

Some of the books are in good condition others are not.

The words on those pages worked hard to keep my interest, to encourage additional my mental and spiritual exploration, to inspire my writing.

Many other books were not included in the list. The most important books are not mentioned. This is no representative of anything other than proximity. This is just a view of something hidden. This is just a touchstone of literary reference points.

Here, within these pages my imagination was nurtured. Here within these pages my imagination discovered unasked questions. Here within these pages are the unanswered arguments which convinced me to become Catholic.

Reading books can be hard on the eyes. But, carrying a stack of books can be hard on the back.

A prayer from Somewhere Beyond Yesterday.

This is my prayer.
It is my private prayer.
I prayed it.
I prayed for clear blue skies with a hint of heat.
Happiness was mine until my mind got into the act.
Then, I prayed for gray skies with thunder and lightning.
Now, I am all drenched, each raindrop is fightning.

July 29

Each day should begin with a request for the forgiveness of your sins. A recognition of stray thoughts, stray sentences, stray moments when we do not behave in a way that is pleasing to God may help us to improve our actions today and tomorrow.

Remembering A Walk

On my way to Mass. I noticed this tree, and the blossoms. I am not sure what type of tree it is. All I know is that it is green and alive and it captured my imagination. I felt blessed. I decided to take a picture after Mass.

I tried to take a picture of the church the way I saw it years ago, before my conversion. Years ago, I looked at it and thought that it was a funny looking school.

Standing on the sidewalk, looking up the stone steps to a wide landing my eyes noticed a priest all in green who looked more a part of nature than of this modern urban reality. Goodness seemed to surround him.

This is very beautiful, very simple, very moving.

Here is a suggestion of the connection between God and his church. A little mystery surrounds this image.

Secular and Spiritual, July 26

Sunday morning arrived bringing an uneasy feeling in my stomach. An idea to return to bed and possibly miss Mass due to the possibility of an illness was very viable, very seductive. Reason however won the battle. Instead of attending a late Mass, the next available Mass became the only option.

After a quick check of Mass times, a 10:30 Mass was selected barely thirty minutes before the listed start time. The cell phone was left behind. The camera and iPod were taken instead. The iPod was chosen because a clock was needed to help with pacing. The camera was taken for purely creative reasons.

Normally, instrumental, orchestral music provided the soundtrack to most journeys to Mass.

Special songs were chosen which would be completed within the estimated time that it would take to walk to the church.

While listening to the songs, my imagination decided to listen to the lyrics and alter them to say something about God or my faith. Purely secular, upbeat, up tempo love songs were being altered, revised. The original meanings were put aside, were instantly revised.

Since all the songs were easily categorized as love songs, that made the basic premise easy in theory. The speaker in the songs could be God, or God could be the object of the lyrics. I felt like Shakespeare writing a play or Jowett translating an ancient Greek text. Using something not connected to church to my reflected God, the Liturgy, the Eucharist, or the Sacraments was a great way to prepare my mind for church. This was a stress free examination of conscience.

The exercise was intended to use something very secular to create a something spiritual.

My walking pace was improved, my observation of the surroundings was more directed. The natural beauty of the verdant leaves fueled my imagination. Here are an abridged list of the various modified lyrics.

The language of faith
encourages me to meditate
Virtue can be very victorious
when we remember to pray
We are not allegorical
remember that love is biblical
Look at all the beauty
Your faith does talk
when your mouth does not move

Now, these lyrics are not perfect, not refined. The concentrated thought on God made the walk more enjoyable. In many ways this could be seen as the beginning of a prayer, a discovery of buried thoughts and desires.

believe in your prayers
Remember to trust your vocation
believe in your prayers
Remember faith needs imagination
With work and sacrifice your hopes survive
Your fears and worries we will archive
I'll keep all your prayers alive
For your virtue

Going to Mass has many childhood associations and memories. As adults it is easy to tell ourselves that we are too busy to attend Mass. Each Mass contains some element which is unique to it within all the ritual. A simple phrase in a reading or an anecdote in a homily may touch your heart and soul in different ways. Attending Mass in unfamiliar surroundings may inspire greater understanding and hope.

The more a man opens his entire being up to the Mass the more he will receive from the Mass. Being present in body is good, but being there in body, mind, and soul is the ideal. Every part of the Mass should be inspiring prayers for all of mankind, not just our immediate spheres of connections and bonds. The Mass should inspire a desire to perform acts of charity, acts of goodness. When a man allows himself to be open, vulnerable before God, then this can occur naturally, easily.

Attending Mass is a simple way to stand before God and declare that you are his servant and that you want to do his work.

Sunday afternoon arrived with the thought of writing a series of essays beginning with the word beloved and with the thought of Saint Paul.

Joining A Protest Before a Thuder Storm

Today, July 25, 2009, was the Global Day of Action for Human Rights in Iran. Demonstrations were held in major cities around the world. Three events were held in Washington, DC. This event was sponsored and coordinated by Amnesty International and other human rights organizations.

The stated purpose was to display universal solidarity with the Iranian civil rights movement and to demand respect for the human rights of the Iranian people. In Washington, a protest was held at the UN offices, then there was a march to the National Mall, and finally a rally with the U.S. Capitol as a backdrop.

Photographers and writers like any opportunity to observe strangers. A march is a low budget parade without floats or people dressed as clowns. People carry signs and repeat slogans. In many ways a march is very close to a high school pep rally. The only difference is that a pep rally usually lasts for thirty minutes in the gymnasium and a march lasts for a couple.

A march is a moveable pep rally with bullhorns, people cheering, reciting slogans. This march obeyed most traffic rules. Babies in strollers, people in wheelchairs, men and women of all ages, all races were present. This was a solemn occasion.

The Archdiocese of Washington recently celebrated Global Solidarity Month to commemorate the anniversary of the Papal visit. How great it would have been if a march had been held, too! How great it is to participate in this event, to see the expressions, to read the signs and banners! Being Catholic means believing in social justice, working for social justice.

This entry is not about politics. It's about basic human fairness. This is not about the internal political controversies in Iran. This is about individuals around the world through their presence at events like this one, making a statement.

Social justice does not always mean equality. The quest for social justice is a quest for something beyond civil rights. Social justice wants all human beings to have the basics food, clothing, and shelter; all human beings to be treated fairly and with respect; human dignity should not be denied.

Social justice takes time to be achieved. It takes sacrifice, dedication, hard work. Prayer is also very important.

The name Global Day of Action suggests something beyond one issue, one country. Work is needed everywhere to help the homeless, to combat poverty, to develop fair immigration rules. The number of issues which require attention is endless.

Today's events were successful because people took the time to participate. Some brought their children, friends, parents; others brought their cameras and their imaginations.

Everyone left with a measured optimism and an understanding that the journey is just beginning.

Twilight Thoughts, July 24

Being Catholic is both perfectly natural and perfectly reasonable for me. There is an abundance of literature on the history and traditions of the Church. My faith is both reasonable and challenging.

Books have always entertained me. Books require patience and scheduling. A good book is always a private pleasure.

My adventures in reading serious Catholic books has reminded me of one quiet, understated truth. Reading is interactive. The entire brain and maybe even the soul has to be turned on. The entire being has to be willing to immerse itself in the text, willing to trust the text, willing to reflect on the text impartially.

How books and articles are chosen is not important. How the text is approached is very important. The basic questions that we are dealing with today were asked one hundred years ago, two hundred years ago, a thousand years ago. They will be asked again one hundred years, two hundred years into the future.

The nature of God has not changed. The nature of man has not changed. Books teach us that fact. There is nothing original. Originality is a great concept or idea casually placed in movie reviews and on dust jackets.

My faith helps me to be a reasonable, intelligent person. Literature pleases me.
Faith challenges me, gives me compassion, helps me understand duty and sacrifice.

The danger in modern life is to much emphasis being placed on the individual and too much emphasis being placed on material things. There is the understated steady downbeat of weakness, vulnerability which can be prevented or avoided if something is purchased. Faith tells us to resist this. This is a time when abstinence should be applied to all areas of modern life. Visits to coffee shops, visits to gyms, extended internet surfing, watching television all these should be reduced, and more time be devoted to performing good works, serving God. There are too many diversions. Modern life easily prioritizes diversions.

For many people faith is like any spectator sport. They know their roles. They show up, watch, and leave. Attending church is added to their calendar before brunch or shopping.

Faith allows us to experience something divine and beautiful.

Morning Thoughts, July 24

As much as I enjoy the morning, there are times when I am very perplexed by my interactions with it.

I wake up. I decide what I want to do today. I get out of bed. I say a little prayer. I thank God for allowing me to see another day. After those few things, I am ready to lay back down, and reflect on my life, on what I should do, on what I should not do. Morning inspires me to think.

I enjoy thinking. My imagination needs the workout. There are times when I create elaborate puzzles in my mind as I try to understand why my friends do what they do. I have had thoughts on abortion and what I personally and privately would say to someone if I knew that abortion was being contemplated. I have spent many hours thinking about my vocation.

The list of things that have passed through my mind is endless. Several return again and again. Each morning there are prayers to be said, ideas to be contemplated. Sometimes instead of doing direct contemplation, I perform indirect contemplation where I do research. I read articles, skim through books, watch various programs on the television, listen to music.

Whatever the theme for the day is, my mind returns to that.

There is time for silence. There is time for quick personal phone calls. The morning allows an innocent intimacy between myself and God. When I allow myself to be patient and still, I can sense God's presence, encouraging and inspiring me to do something good, to stop thinking of myself and start thinking of others who might need his assistance.

Morning reminds me that there is always work to do, that prayer is always needed, that I am fallible and sometimes forgetful, and that I am more blessed and loved than I realize.

Divine Calls

Before my birth Cardinal John Henry Newman published Parochial and Plain Sermons, Volume VIII. I discovered this volume and began to look through it. I have always been fascinated by books. I like acquiring new ideas.

After reviewing the table of contents, my eyes were immediately drawn to the second sermon, Divine Calls. Although I know that the Bible was in existence long before my birth, it still surprised and pleased me to accept the reality that by chance, I had stumbled upon these sermons which referenced a Victorian Bible.

The sermon itself is very familiar to other sermons about hearing and responding to God's call.

I like being told that each one of us receives a divine call and that each one of us has a duty to respond to their divine call. Newman immediately connects the call with our obedience. When we hear the call we should stop everything that we are doing.

This type of obedience, prompt and unconditional, is what God wants. When God makes a request of us, there is always a dialogue, always his presence, always his assistance. Our egos and imaginations sometimes forget God's love as we weigh this situation against that situation.

The Divine Call does not just occur once in our lives. It begins with our Baptism and continues throughout our lives. Christ is there when we want him there, when we do not. He calls us when we act as he did, and when we do not act as he did. There is something very beautiful in the continuity of the Divine Call.

I like to think of the Divine Call as casual correspondence between Christ and us. When it arrives we have a multitude of choices. We can read it, not read it, destroy it, hide it. We can also respond to it, do the thing that God asks of us.

There is nothing more beautiful than allowing your life to be lived in God's service. Our work is never done, his work is never done. Our obedience is needed. Through our him we are sanctified and glorified.

Luncheon in Honor of St Mary Magdalen

This afternoon I had lunch with friends. It was in honor of St Mary Magdalene. There were five us crowded together in a medium, sized bar restaurant near the White House.

Our conversation bounced around from prayer, to All Saints Day, to Confirmation names. The majority of our conversation was about Butler's Saint for the Day. The title sounded familiar. Hearing the lives of the Saints reduced to simple anecdotes was both entertaining and enlightening.

Our conversation was casual filled with good cheer and hopefulness. We shared a relaxed piety, a moment of sharing and inspiration.

I was reminded that this is the Year of the Priest. I thought about vocations, praying for vocations.

After the food was placed in front of us, we listened attentively as a prayer was read.

It was a very beautiful afternoon.

Repetition

We live in a time of incessant repetition. We live in a time where most people with an opinion has the freedom to share it. We live in a time of great torment and distress. We can read about horrific crimes, watch a television report on terrible natural disasters, hear tragic consequences of events in the lives of our friends.

There is always something to scare us, annoy us, confuse us.

Describing our lives by the tornados, hurricanes, and wildfires experienced and survived might be great for a memoir or a potboiler or blockbuster movie with all types of special effects but it may not be beneficial to the ordinary person. Looking back over my life there have not been any tornados, hurricanes, or wildfires. I often wish there had been.

My life was and is as imperfect and confusing as anybody's. There have been moments of anger, angst, fear. In many ways the template of my life is very similar to other people's. As much as I want to pretend that my life has been smooth and calm, it has not.

My life has been anchored in a very strong belief in God. Some of my earliest memories are of going to Sunday school, going to church, praying at the dinner table, kneeling and praying at the side of my bed.

My life has been attached to Catholic thought since elementary school. My life has been influenced by a struggle between noticing a social injustice and finding a way to change it and encouraging others to help change it. I have volunteered with all types of causes, attended countless rallies, forums, benefits.

I have learned one basic thing. There is injustice in the world.

It is easy to look the other way, to ignore people or situations which might make us uncomfortable. I often remind myself that my life is not supposed to be easy, my life is not supposed to be comfortable. I sometimes feel that I should sacrifice more for the common good.

Twilight

Another twilight. Another siren sounds in the distance. Another cool breeze on my skin.

What does it mean to love in deed and truth? Is it something that can be done between going to the gym, the office, the restaurant and then home?

I struggle with being charitable sometimes. I want to help. My imagination prevents me from doing it sometimes with violent, nightmarish blood splattered daydreams from too many true crime and police procedural television shows.

Sometimes I wish there was a faith procedural show which would show us how to find, share, and build our faith.

I think I really began to think honestly about the consequences of my actions, while sitting in a RCIA class and listening to a discussion about original sin. Before that I had not really either accepted or comprehended the definition of original sin as being an intrinsic part of my life, like a symphonic overture.

The sky is really colorless except for a few patches of blue and neon white clouds.

It was a peaceful, wondrous moment, the moment I crossed my chest and received my first blessing from a priest, and I wanted to become a humble servant for God. I did not want to leave St. Matthew's Cathedral. I did not want to return to the chaotic, outside world.

more alive

So, then people do go to church to pray; I sometimes feel more alive during Mass than at any other point during the day.

I like being away from the hurly-burly, free from the insanity of the pervasive profanity. There are times that I like being quiet, avoiding speaking, responding to this statement, editing that sentence. A good conversation can be very stressful.

Being in the stillness of a church, I realized that the church is not ever still. Someone is always entering or leaving a church. Someone is always sitting down or standing up. Prayer is always going on.

Sweet prayers are made of more than words, more than feelings. How we pray can be very individual!

Prayers can be the soundtrack of a person's life.

Writing and Understanding

I had considered writing a short piece about etymology of the word catholic. After I wrote a couple of sentences, I abandoned that idea. Today, there was a thunderstorm warning. I kept waiting for the thunder, lighting, rain, and hail. There were forecasts throughout the afternoon, predicting this storm. Part of me wanted the spectacle of the storm to come and disrupt my quiet afternoon.

I had decided to stay inside my apartment. Then I decided to run errands, to go about my life. I walked to the grocery. On my way I saw a short middle aged woman wearing a red fishing hat. At the traffic light at Eighteenth Street, I had the red light. I was supposed to wait. There were three women and a man moving cautiously toward the street.

I moved right past them, I moved beyond the big delivery van which was not parked properly, and which took up half of the traffic lane. I quickly looked to left, did not see any approaching traffic, and then I looked to the right and saw one stray taxi. So, I quickly jaywalked, hoping that a police officer would not suddenly appear from a manhole.

Then when I was about a block from the store, heavy raindrops began to attack me. I thought about going home, thought about continuing to the store, buying the few items on my shopping list and then, waiting till the rain stopped. I laughed at my good fortune. I was happy to be outside in the rain. I felt like a ten year old. I was ready to run in the rain.

Prayer is often like that. There are times when it is easier to pray, when it is easy to think, reflect, and remember. Prayer can be both soothing and seductive as we allow ourselves to become more vulnerable, to let go of control. I sometimes have to remind myself that prayer is not a monologue. It is a dialogue with God.

My life has always been filled with speculations, rumors, predictions. Like weather reports all that stuff was often wrong but very entertaining for the listeners. Faith protects us, guides us toward goodness, guides us toward the things which we should believe in, guides us toward a deeper more compassionate understanding of humanity.

I think, I write

I often think about writing. I often think about praying. A couple of times I considered creating a spreadsheet to remind me to pray for different people.

I just could not decide whether the list should be alphabetical by first name or last name. The list is in my mind. I think of it throughout the day. Sometimes names will glow in my mind while I am at Mass, or when I am getting ready for bed or walking to the grocery store.
I spend too much time thinking. I want to spend more time praying.

I wonder whether I pray enough. I hope that I do.

Sometimes there is a wildness in my thoughts. Images go round and round. There is a repetition of words, sounds. I will unkempt and unworthy to stand before God. My head and heart are often turbulent places filled with doubt and hesitation.

I frequently walk on Connecticut Avenue. There are many restaurants and stores and other pedestrians. It's often a crowded, chaotic road. If I allow myself, I can get lost in the storefronts. Often the faces I see are tired or sad or melancholy. I sometimes wonder about how would Jesus Christ react to American urban life? Would his parables be different? Would his miracles be different?

Connecticut Avenue is on a slight hill. The old trolley used to run on this street.

I should be reading the Bible now. I am sitting in my apartment, without the stereo or television on. There is a stack of books waiting to be read by me. Some are religious others are literary. There is a wild combination fiction, poetry, biography and science. There is also a stack of different Catholic books. All are there to help me to think. Some are there to make me write.

I wonder what is the best way for me to honor and praise God.

Forty Prayers

When forty prayers discover your mind,
And carve wide curves in your imagination,
You are hope's livery, humble and kind,
Spinning yet inspiring God's vocation:
Then being asked where your treasure resides,
With all the beauty of your loving days,
To say, within your soul love grows, abides
all the rules of mercy, forgiveness, praise.
How many prayers does your heart recite ,
If you answer with a sum then you're wrong
Never count when God's passion does ignite,
Such words, tenderness in a shepherd song!
On prayer, vocation, I meditate
With love and truth I participate.

A Roof With A Quote or Two

A good quote is often worth a thousand conversations. Or, a good quote inspires a thousand conversations and prayers. Here is an anonymous quote. "Once, we were prisoners, then we were liberated again. This war continues; sin often pretends to surrender. Pain and heartache affect all people, all families. We are all sinners. We are constantly losing and finding our way to God."

A barefoot man wearing a white terry cloth robe walks onto the rooftop with a woman in flip-flops, black pants and white short-sleeved blouse. They each are carrying mugs. He leans over and kisses her hand and then he lights her cigarette. She wears glasses. I can neither hear nor imagine their conversation. I look up as the woman exhales a stream of smoke.

I skimmed through an article about the widening unemployment racial gap in New York. I was concerned and saddened. I wondered about the implications for the rest of the country. I wondered about the implications for individuals affected and for their families.

I thought about social justice. I wondered about the suffering and hardship that people would face because of someone else's greed or carelessness. I wondered how many others would end up in that situation.

I look up as the man puts his mug to his lips, the woman says something, then smiles.

I think that there is a disconnect in our culture. Our concern is limited by immediacy or limited to the immediate. Our concern should be universal and unconditional. All around us are indicators which inform us how busy, chaotic modern life is. Between bus schedules, train schedules, television schedules, how do we find time to find time. When do we have time to exam our lives and our choices.

I am sitting trying to decide why I like the word encyclical when I hear the door to the roof deck open. I see two heads in the distance. I return to typing and thinking. As they get closer I realize that it is the same couple from yesterday.

The man is still barefoot. He wears some loose over-sized shorts which from certain angles look like a skirt and a white tee shirt. The shorts stop just below his knees and the fabric has a slightly Asian or African look to it. The shorts are definitely foreign. The woman wears flip flops, black pants, and white and black sleeve top. Her hair is messily pulled back into an unruly ponytail. In the direct, bright July sunshine her hair looks brown. They are engaged in some type of intense conversation. I can hear sounds but not words. I can see their hands move, see the breeze move through their hair. I can see her shake her head no, then nod it yes. I can see his lips move. I can see her rub her elbow.

She has a glass of water. He has a pack of cigarettes. He lights her cigarette.

I can observe so much. But, what am I really seeing? What am I really feeling? If they were hungry would I give them food? If they were thirsty would I give them water? If they were crying would I offer compassion?

Although we live in the same building, they are strangers. In my mind they can be imaginary villains. Maybe they are spying for Cuba or Albania or Syria? Maybe they are bank robbers or Mafia hitmen? Maybe they are in the Witness Protection program?

It really should not matter. I should treat them with respect and compassion automatically. Right now I am more concerned with my typographical errors. In the sky a helicopter approaches the building from the south before turning and flying to the east.

And sitting here I wonder how I approach God. Am I moving in a straight line or is my approach more circuitous?

Sunday Mass - Remembered

I liked the homily which was given during the 11:30 AM Mass. I liked how everything was connected together. It all flowed very beautifully.

The inclusion of the latest encyclical pleased me. I listened intently as the priest read the Introduction to the encyclical. I was mesmerized. Even the word encyclical created a vaguely juvenile rapture, an instant joy and interest.

I had heard the word before but this was the first one since I had joined the church.

I liked the language. I liked the opening three words, "Charity in Truth." I especially enjoyed being reminded that "God is love."

I decided to download a copy later. I wanted to read the entire document.

"God is love" always resonates with me, always makes me want to be a better person and a better Christian.

Nimbus Clouds

Have you ever seen a nimbus cloud? Could you describe the characteristics of one? How would you describe the composition of a red brick? How would you define colonialism? How would you demonstrate combustion?

How would you define prayer? How do I define prayer?

There is something very personal about prayer. There is something very beautiful about prayer. Our prayers often tell the stories our lives. We pray when we want something, we pray when something or someone upsets us, we pray for others. There are prayers for peace, prayers to end hunger, prayers for the local football team to win a game.

I like the idea that prayers are not a monologue but a dialogue with God. Prayer like everything else in this life, requires practice and effort. The results of our prayers may not always be visible to our eyes.

Our prayers remind us who we are. They can be lyrical. They need to be said.

Being

I enjoyed the languor of this Sunday morning as I prepared for Mass. How peaceful this day began. I remained in bed trying to make sense of a dream. Then, I tried to formulate an answer to a question about how I feel about life after baptism, how I feel about the Church after one year. The question had been asked halfway through a telephone conversation.

When I reached for an answer, initially, I immediately responded with a short list of current actions and deeds. My response was a few sentences and then the conversation turned to something else. This morning, I paused and reflected on the emptiness of my response. I had created a mist of polite babble instead of shining a light directly onto my feelings.

The Church is very important to me. My Baptism on March 22, 2008 is my life's most cherished event. I had thought about it off and on for years. Actually, going through the RCIA process provided me with some very important answers about the essential, vulnerable me. The RCIA process, also, simultaneously, revived and nurtured a desire to do service for the Lord.

There is nothing unique about my conversion. I am pleased that my fervor is still growing. My heart is filled with hope and praise. Being baptized presented more responsibilities, more things and people to pray for and about. There is a greater need to practice social justice, to live simply.

I have been exposed to such goodness and compassion which encourages me to act similarly. Being Baptized is the best thing that has happened to me. I am learning to love, universally and unconditionally. That is a great thing.

I feel more youthful, more alert, more alive, more happy. There have been one or two moments of frustration but even that has led to a little more knowledge.

I like being Catholic.

Sunday, Awake

With tender prayers we ask for sweet mercy,
That his Word's truth inspires us, never dies,
That we remember his promise, prophecy,
His hungry heir might look into our eyes:
But we want to grow our sacrifice, hope,
To live a life of service is a life of praise
To live with honest goodness is to lope
For the Lord. To live the Word all our days.
Remember we are both miracle, gift
Love and charity leads us to his grace,
Away from sinful thoughts and deeds we shift
With tender prayers increases love's pace.
Ask for mercy and forgiveness for all,
Please, just listen for his answer, his call

A Saturday in the City

It's Saturday. I am alone on my roof. The time is 6:57 PM. I can see a small group of people having a dinner party on a nearby roof. Every so often I can hear a woman laugh. I can not clearly hear the conversations. Every now and then I can hear a stray word or two.

I like this time of day. I enjoy being at this spot. The sky is a modern, renunciant blue; the clouds are white and patient encouraging concentration, meditation.

I think of the Holy Trinity. I think of eternal peace and unity.

I realize that there are many lessons waiting for me to learn. Sharing goodness and mercy is sometimes difficult. I am not very good at telling jokes.

I am good at listening. I do have a pretty good imagination.

Tonight, I want to say, "Alleluia, alleluia."

When I Look

I sit on my rooftop. I am able to see the dome of St. Matthew's Cathedral and the Washington Monument when I look to the left. I am able to see the National Cathedral when I look to the right.

The sun is in the western sky now. The sunbeams are warm against my skin. It is July. Sitting and listening to jets ascending into the clear blue sky, listening to the brief, sad falsetto of the city bus breaks being applied, and feeling the cool, breeze touch my skin and the pages of my books.

Right now I am alone on the rooftop. I hear few sounds other than the city buses and the building machinery on the neighboring building. The shadows on the concrete please me. There are no distractions, I am thinking.

Silence and solitude can be dangerous. Thinking can be dangerous. Reflection can be dangerous.

Writing the word dangerous can be very humorous and liberating.

Faith wants us to look inside ourselves, to have an experience that starts in one place and ends in an entirely different private place. Faith encourages and inspires us to carry it to those private places in our hearts in order to allow it to become more personal, more natural. For faith to flourish it must be organic, not forced. It must simply occur.

Faith is irrepressible, necessary, nurturing. There is something definitive yet anonymous about faith which makes it so beautiful, so unifying.

Silence can be calming. Silent reflection allows me to find peace. At some point, I cease to hear my own voice, to think of my problems. Briefly, I just exist, free of every distraction.

I believe that faith encourages us to test ourselves, to move beyond the comfortable and the safe. I could just think these thoughts. That would be the safe thing to do. But sharing them is a little scary.

In our actual daily lives we present the transparency of shared relationships, the singularity of private thought and vision, and the artistry of love. All of these can combine and encourage us to look carefully both inward and outward.

Religious convictions can allow a certain independence from modern hedonism and nihilism. I like the humble heroism of being compassionate, forgiving, merciful. I like encouraging my instinct to do good, to be respectful.

It is a pleasure to think of one aspect of faith.

The sun has gone. The outline of the National Cathedral is visible against the peach colored western sky. There are people around me drinking beer, talking about frozen margaritas, talking of former girlfriends moving to town and looking for places to live, talking of dinners being purchased. There are people laughing, people remembering. A couple sits near me; the woman reads a thick paperback while the man coughs, reads his perfectly folded newspaper and looks nervously toward the sunset.
I sit here quietly thinking, not actually listening.

The evening air is brisk, my arms are getting cold. The lights have come on. In the distance I can hear a siren.

I silently say a prayer.

First Things Last

I think that it might be easier to start at the end. This is a written account of my private journey. I am asking myself questions about my faith, how I want to express my faith, and how I want to serve God. I am allowing myself a second to breathe, to glance around the room. I have lived an ordinary life. My exposure to religion began very early. I can remember going to Sunday school at a Baptist church. I can also remember trying to take a nap during Sunday service at a Baptist church.

Some of the sermons were great examples of oratory. Most were long, rambling things which mixed scripture with opinion. Some of the preachers worked to connect with their congregations. Others preached to their congregations about tithing and other financial connections.

As an adult weekly Mass attendance is an important component of my religious journey. I am trying to have a more humble, loving life. There all types of temptations and distractions all around me. Going to Mass is not a chore. I try to make it a reward for surviving another week. It is a moment of peace, free of the temptations of modern life and advertising. A moment free of detergent commercials; pop songs; anti-social and violent movies; oral contraception commercials; and celebrity gossip. It is a journey toward inner peace, inner knowledge, inner acceptance.

Weekly Mass offers a little bit of religious education, a reminder of God's love, and prayers, lots of beautiful prayers. Within the prayers, in the words, there is peace, love, and understanding. There is always a plea for the universal good, for universal humanity.

Participating in the Mass means that I am actively listening to the words that are being read or sung. Participating in the Mass means that I am praying for both familiar people and strangers. Participating in the Mass means trying to incorporate the teachings into more areas of my life.

I am looking for the best way to serve God, to follow in the footsteps of Jesus.

I recognize my shortcomings, my frustrations. I search for new questions, new ways to serve and honor the Lord.

The Moon, The Clouds, and Three Vows

Writing an essay is sometimes a difficult endeavor. A topic or theme has to be chosen. A position decided upon. An attitude embraced and expressed in words and phrases, both succinct and yet descriptive. Writing about my impression of Catholicism is both daunting and comforting.

There is no topic. There is no theme. I shall share my stream of consciousness. Or my meditation on humanity. Yes, this shall be something between a meditation and a stream of consciousness.

There are white clouds against a washed out blue sky. The Washington Monument looks neon white in the distance. I have been thinking about a vow of chastity, a vow of poverty, and a vow of obedience.

The three vows have bounced in and out of mind during the last two days. Which vow is most appealing? Which is most troublesome? Chastity. Obedience. Poverty. All three of them can easily be romanticized. The vows suggest a beauty, a yearning for purity that is decidedly simplistic, decidedly opposed to the hectic, free-wheeling life of rampant consumerism.

This is an age of materialism and pettiness. Love is a commodity. Great conversations center on drinking, sex, boss avoidance, Delaware tolls, iced tea. Jobs often are not vocations but a means to an end. Materialism provides a wonderful background and handsome props. But, it also produces a brittleness, an anxious fragility. This is not the time to examine one's conscience. This is not the time to sit silently, thinking about God. This is not the time to write an essay.

For many those statements are true. But, for a few, a select group of brave adventurers who understand modern life and it's difficulties, who understand and accept the beauty, strength, and peace of chastity, obedience, and poverty, let them always be our guides and our inspiration.

I can see the moon, white and shining, against the washed-out blue sky. It is a little beyond eight o'clock. I can see a jet flying above the clouds. It is Friday. This sunset has an unworldly beauty, like something created for a Hollywood science fiction movie. Another jet appears and flies against the white cloud as it moves above them.

The three vows possess an unworldly power, otherworldly serenity. There is a hint of something real, something beyond ordinary, day to day comprehension.

There is an ancient naturalism in them.
I am drawn to the three vows. This is not the essay I had planned on writing. This is not the essay which was arranged in my mind.

I am left with a question of personal conviction, personal bravery, personal conscience. Looking at this July sunset, with the moon and clouds, I ask myself, what am I willing to do for God.

Writing an essay is sometimes about presenting a solution; however, sometimes, it might also be about presenting the unasked question.

Introducing Three Lists

This introduction is for the three entries which follow. Please forgive any typographical or grammatical errors which may be discovered. This is a record of a personal journey, actually a record begun after the starting point, almost at the halfway point. Each day there are new questions, new feelings, new desire.

The central part of each entry is a list of words. The lists were initially created consecutively. There is some overlap.

Creating the lists provided a two minute search and recover session as I tried to formulate and articulate my opinions on my religion.

Both learning and yearning are natural and necessary.

Church - His Experience

Once upon a time, there was one little uptown boy, riding a downtown subway. And he wanted to do something beautiful, spiritual. But something encouraged him to reflect upon goodness and hope. And then he examined the direction of his life.

He is a fabulist, reluctant. Words are his allies. And he began to write.

ushers, ministers of hospitality, Extraordinary Ministers of Communion, RCIA newsletter, cathedral, meetings, priests, lay people, Deacons, Archbishop, service, prayer, love, compassion, confession, marble, art, inspiration, St. Francis, St. Anthony, Mary, Joseph, nativity, concerts, music, choir, bulletin, altar servers, acolyte, host, chalice, wine, bread, organ, water, altar, pew, kneel, stand, hymn, responsorial psalm, Gospel, lector, the elect, ordination, charity, adventure, work, discovery, tradition, history

Somehow I too allowed these words to make things; concrete visions, two blue ink columns of rushed handwriting; but the realities that accompanied the exercise moved my gaze beyond the scribbles on the page, to a private spot within my mind. Somehow I too discovered the smallest, basic element, the courtyard of my being, searching innermost for frequent and familiar signposts on God's highway.

Perseverance is necessary to discover clarity. Many distractions and diversions always remain on the periphery of faith and loving and serving God in the abstract asks for the extraordinary and the enormous because we live in an age of selfishness, an age angst, an age of rampant restlessness. Finding God and maintaining a relationship with him can be difficult. It is often easier to do this in a community. Faith, to grow and to prosper, needs a community.

Friendships with others can provide visible traces of God and God's love. Work and dedication and love can help us to see God; love, natural and overwhelming and free, can lead us on a journey that simultaneously leads us outward to the expansiveness of the exterior world and inward to the innermost places of the interior world, the soul.

The experience of church leads to reflection, to action. There is strength in believing, strength in hoping, strength in praying.

Faith, A Beautiful Truth

Once upon a time, there was one little downtown boy, riding in a downtown taxi. And he wanted to observe God's mercy, God's love. But something encouraged him to reflect upon forgiveness and sacrifice. And then he began a great dialogue.

He was a little anxious. He had a complicated post-modern uneasiness, small town tranquility which could be mistaken for serenity or calm. He was alert, listening to classical music, occasionally glancing at the other riders, occasionally checking the stations. And alternating between jumpy cursive and bumpy printing he began:

vocation, service, Sunday, sacrifice, fun, people, communion, help, sharing, salvation, love, serving the people, helping others, believing, believing and building, faith building, heaven, hard work, sinning is easy, salvation requires determination, forgiveness, Lord's Prayer, Twenty-Third Psalm, Follow Me, Body of Christ, Blood of Christ, eucharist, liturgy of the eucharist, liturgy of the word, sign of peace, kiss of peace, Lamb of God, prayer, blessings, welcome

Life can be different when faith is present. There is a constant dialogue in my mind reminding me of the Sacraments and encouraging me to seek goodness. Observing, praying, and working (doing God's work) can lead to wisdom.

Wisdom helps to deepen our faith, deepen our beliefs. Wisdom is impartial, judicious. Wisdom is understanding.

Certain times of the year, expressions of faith are everywhere, clearly visible. Faith can appear festive, playful. Faith can be an interruption of the normal routines and habits of our lives in this chaotic world.

True faith takes us further, takes us beyond the clearly visible, through lesser and greater moments. Faith helps to reorganize different moments like chapters in a book in a way that allows truth to become visible. Faith is friends with the past, the present, and the future and asks them the same questions. There is an urgency, immediacy in faith.

Being prostrate in body, mind, and soul is utterly acceptable and encouraged.

Everywhere the eye can see, if you look close enough, there are little hints of faith, hints of goodness, hints of belief in God.

Vocation - American Style

Once upon a time, there was one little country boy, walking on an urban sidewalk. And he allowed himself to see God in faces of passing strangers. It was an existential moment of questions and answers; a lyrical moment of wonderful belief, faith, and love; an exemplary moment of inspiring and living Catholicism.

He had a personality shaped by sitcoms, detective shows, and imported international miniseries. There was an understated curiosity about him. He was always ready with a question and a smile. In his being was a growing love of his religion, growing respect of his faith. Learning about God and how to please God, pleased and challenged him.

There was an ordinariness about him, detached and graceful as he searches for goodness and his path. His eyes looked around him, at the glass storefronts, the neon signs, the rushing pedestrians. Then he tried to remember something he heard at Mass.

beautiful, service, faith, love, sharing, direction, forgiveness, help, dedication, charity, peace, kindness, empathy, honor, privilege, ceremony, tradition, Bible, St. Paul, homily, God's work, community, family, prayer, reflection, examination of conscience,

Sometimes I too have a feeling leading me in a certain direction; interpreting past events and assigning symbolic significance, religious archetypes to the realities from my life. Sometimes I too must acknowledge my faults, my sins, even the smallest elements, the random thoughts, brash and wild. Sometimes I too realize the material world may be beautiful and yet there is an element of the intangible which creates obsession, greed, lust.

In quiet moments there is a very tangible sensation, the material that both hope and love are made of, that leads my brain through all the formative influences. There are examples supreme and sublime. There is a search for a lucid freshness and purity. There is an innocent insistence which challenges my being, my inactivity.

Here and there, I have made small discoveries about myself and there is a desire for a relationship with God which contains greater fidelity. Each new discovery could be complemented by an anecdote or a fragment. Nothing is isolated.

I have been on a journey for a long time, following the traces, the ancient footsteps everywhere. I have observed life and something beyond life, something beyond words. Now, my heart and soul yearn for God's grace, God's love, and to do God's work.

It is never too late to yearn.