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.

Clouds In The Sky and I Am Learning How to Feel

Looking at the white clouds against the blue sky, hearing the beeping noise of a truck backing up, feeling a warm breeze against my skin I try to concentrate and write about this day.

Recently, I had a brief conversation with a group of friends. I denied the existence of true happiness. I said that in modern America, rabid consumerism has made happiness impossible. I said that materialism creates neither altruism or peace. There is too much anxiety, too much avarice, too much avoidance.

The Church offers an antidote to all of these things if we take the time to examine our consciences and to decide what is really necessary in our lives.

Many luxury items are masquerading as basic necessities. Are cell phones really necessary? Is it necessary to have a pair of alligator shoes? Are designer shirts and jeans really necessary?

I constantly ask myself questions. I sometimes find the answers.

But, I think that I am happiest when I am completely calm, when I am silent, and when I allow myself to thank God for the blessings in my life.

Sitting in the sunlight, occasionally searching the skyline for the Capitol Dome or the Washington Monument in the distance, I realize that consumerism is not the evil enemy; the problem begins with the behaviors which our society freely allows and often encourages.

I wish that consumerism allowed a little room for civility and charity. Our society is in a hurry to deliver the next punch line, to download the next song, to race through yellow lights.

Ed McMahon, Johnny Carson’s sidekick on the Tonight Show died. He was 86. He was an integral part of the show.

Investigators are still trying to determine why a Metro train rear-ended another train on Monday during rush hour. Nine people were killed in the worst commuter rail accident in Washington’s history.

These events remind us of life’s fragility, our own vulnerability. They remind how connected we are to our fellow man. They remind me how much I should close my mouth, stop complaining about little things. They remind me how important it is to follow Jesus’ example and love my neighbor. They remind me that life on earth is short. It is best to spend time in God’s service.

Last night I received a phone call from a friend, who told me that a former coworker was among the dead. My prayers are with the family of Cameron Williams.