Dad Revisited

My friend Chris, who is writing curriculum for his music students, is crafting Essential Questions for his lessons. Essential Questions are those which, if you have developed and taught your lesson well, all will be able to answer at the end. He believes educators must also ask themselves Essential Questions as they do their jobs. I believe, especially of late, that each of us as people must answer Essential Questions. I believe those questions differ depending on your age and where you ‘are’ in your life.

Individuals with children face these questions: Should I be more or less involved in the lives of my children? Should I choose for them, or let them choose? Should I steer them away from all risks, or let them discover the world for what it really is and has become? Should I keep my ’safe’ job, or take a risk that could put my family in financial jeopardy?

If you are in a marriage or relationship, you face different, but similarly important questions. Is this the person for me? Do I want to spend the rest of my life in this relationship? Is my partner happy? Am I doing all I can to make this relationship happy, successful, and sustainable? Will we be better off if I subjugate myself to him/her right now? Are we healthy together? Are we better apart?

As individuals, we must answer the more basic questions. Am I happy? Can I be a better person? Should I be more charitable? Is it time to sit down and take it, or stand up and fight? What are my goals, my visions, my dreams? Can I attain them? Is what is good for me in keeping with the greater good? Does that matter to me? Take a good look at these questions, because they are cumulative. We all answer the basic questions. Those of us married and with children must answer them all.

But I’ve left out the most basic, most essential question of all. It’s not “How shall I live?” buy “Shall I live?” if you believe that life requires an energy, a force of will, than this becomes a critical question. But why, WHY would someone answer no? Certainly we’ve seen those who, in a fit of loneliness, pain, or alienation have thought living was no longer valuable. What of the father, who for years has supported his family, who now cannot do so? Perhaps he’s discovered he’s worth more fiscally dead than alive. Maybe he simply cannot watch as his family struggles to stay alive. Maybe the guilt (justified or not) he feels in his failures weighs too heavily on his soul. These days, many individuals must be in this mindset. I’ve felt their pain. All I can say for them is that no family is better off in their absence. No amount of money would ever replace a loving parent, or assuage the pain and guilt stemming from their absence.

What of those who are older? If life requires an energy force, how long can any of us sustain it? Have you 50 years in you? 65? 80? 90? There are days where I wonder how I will find a forty fourth. If you reach 80 years, haveyou worked hard enough? Could you hang on to be with your mate. Hopefully your children are settled and no longer need your care. If you’ve taught them everything they need to know, can you give up without guilt?

As I sit with my mother-in-law, I consider the gifts I have, the gifts she’s given me, and the life force she’s carried for so long. Clearly I haven’t been paying attention during the lesson. I can’t answer the Essential Question.

The first part of the year seems to always come down to some kind of sacrifice. First we have our New Year’s resolutions, which never include “spend more time on the internet, watch more television, and eat a lot of chocolate.” I spend the better part of January trying to keep to those resolutions. Of course, many of those fall to the wayside by February 1st. February is spent mostly regretting all the junk I didn’t get done.

I forgot! I have another chance! I can give up all the same things AGAIN for Lent. Now I’m starting to think to myself “why do I bother making resolutions when Lent is coming in a month? I can make my same sacrifices and have them count TWICE!” This leaves me in a quandry, though.

If I had resolved to give up chocolate at New Year’s, I’d have blown it about 3 days after New Years. That means my resolution is no longer in play. I can give up chocolate for Lent now, right? If I do that, does it count as a new sacrifice for my faith, or is it simply a cop out for my own convenience? Read the rest of this entry »

Church Clock Tower,
originally uploaded by lolowar.

Roman Catholics are the busiest of the faithful. I know that seems a bold observation and a gross generalization, but I know it to be true. How could I know such a thing? I know because I have studied it using the tools I learned in Sociology 101- observation and extrapolation.

I’ve spent many years observing the arrival times of people to Sunday Mass. In the R.C. churches I have attended, the earliest attendee arrives at Mass approximately 30 minutes before the scheduled start time. Because she is so unique, and her arrival time so much earlier than the rest, she (and yes, it’s ALWAYS a ’she’) is an outlier, a bit of data that falls outside the normal distribution. Most if the rest arrive in a block,so the normal range for arrival begins at 8 minutes prior to scheduled start (T minus 8 minutes, to use a familiar parlance), with an increase in incidents at T minus 90 seconds that continues through T plus 5 minutes. Outliers on the other side of the range continue through the T+15 range.

Departure times are equally revealing. Departures begin immediately following individual procession to receive communion (which researchers have termed “eat and run”) and occurs approximately 8 minutes prior to the end of mass, or D minus 8 minutes. There are a few of these, and they appear to skew towards younger members of the study group. The vast majority of attendees depart, or attempt to depart, at least 1 minute before the ending, or D minus 1. Only a scant few stay for the end of services, which is officially termed at the end of the closing hymn. Coincidentally there is a single outlier for departure as well, but she has already been discounted from the study because she is the same woman who arrived thirty minutes early. We have no statistics on her departure time, as the researchers tired of waiting for her to leave and just went home for lunch.

Researchers have determined the average time of a Sunday Mass to be 48 minutes. Using that as a base, eliminating the outliers, and applying a high level statistical regression analysis, the average R.C. Churchgoer appears to attend only 92% of the actual service. Anecdotally (and to be studied in depth with a future study) time on task during the service appears to be low as well. Adjustments to cell phone ringers, text messaging, writing checks for the collection basket, and whispering to your neighbors about that lady’s hat appear to consume more of the time, leaving less than 90% quality time during the service. Another consideration could be that people are unaware that Mass ends at the end of the closing song, and that it is not ‘exit music’ for the congregation to recess.

All of these statistics lead this researcher to only one conclusion- Roman Catholics may be too busy for Weekly Mass. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to finish this later. The Homily is ending, and I have to get back to work.

Having completed my Family Resolutions the other day, I should take a moment to continue my resolutions as a man of faith.

Resolution 4- Remember that “Name in Vain” thingy
For a man who teaches the youngest of children, you would think I had better control of my mouth. I don’t. I also work across the hall from a first grade teacher who can keep pace with a sailor on leave. It makes it really easy for me to fall into a pattern of terribly ugly language.

I also have tweenage and teenage children. I get frustrated and lose control of my mouth at times. I also managed to teach my wife somewhere along the way to do the same thing. I need to stop. Not only is it degrading to my children, but it also sets a terrible example for them. Finally, it also pushes me further from my faith. So I resolve to clean up my language.

Resolution 5- Say thank you to the One who helps most

Resolution 3 addresses my most important earthly relationship. I need to do a better job maintaining my most important spiritual relationship. I pray two or three times a year, except if there is a crisis. I don’t go to confession. I hardly pray when I am actually IN the church.

Grace x3 annually is not enough. I’m a realist, though. I know I won’t be getting on bended knee each night before bed, but a few minutes every week to give thanks for that which is good would certainly be an improvement. I resolve to give thanks in prayer each week.

Check out my resolutions for Marriage and Family and Technology.

Technorati Tags:
faith, prayer, religion

Advent is a temporal paradox. It is the end of the calendar year, but also the beginning of the liturgical year. It is a chance for a fresh start with your faith. It is, in fact, one of the two holiest seasons in our Christian year. It may also be the time where we are weakest in our faith.

Consider Black Friday. Were you your most faithful on that day? Were you considering what was best for all those about you, or for you alone? Were you among an angry mob of folks banging on a door, remarking that the sign says 5am and it is most certainly 5:02 already? Were you waiting patiently to be served, or did you foster anger and impatience among those about you?

Consider the holiday season in general. Are you considering your faith as you set out your menorah? Are you contemplating how oil sufficient for a single day of light should burn for eight? When I put out my creche, and I considering the miracle of a virgin birth? Or am I contemplating how another holiday is coming, and I have so much to do that I can’t see straight? Am I thinking the worst of my family because I do all the work on the holidays, and they have merely to show up with a tray of veggies as an admission ticket?

Am I yielding to the stranger in the parking lot who may have a baby, a pregnant wife, or an invalid relative in the car? Or am I stealing that spot because gracious I am in a serious hurry and you couldn’t possibly be on as tight a schedule as I am?

Am I letting the woman with three items go ahead of me in the grocery line when I have an entire cart full of provisions? Or am I justifying myself by thinking “no one ever lets me get in front so why should I do it for a stranger?”

Sure, we make our resolutions when we hang that pristine new paper calendar on the refrigerator. But do we truly make resolutions when the new year begins? The liturgical one? In this religious time of renewal (at least for Christians) perhaps we should consider making our resolutions on a schedule that makes sense in keeping our faith, and not with an artificially imposed governmental order.

If we live in a society where a man at a Walmart can be trampled to death by a group of people trying to buy discount televisions, it’s time for all of us to stop and reconsider who we are and what we do. Once we have our own houses in order, we can test the theory that I hope from the deepest reaches of my soul is true:

Good will is contagious.

So join what I hope becomes the largest scientific study ever conducted by a blogger. Come on this site and share with us all a tale of good will done unto you, and how you plan to do unto others. If you haven’t found any good will yet, tell us how you are spreading it in your life.

Having a schedule when you write a blog is important. If you write about current events or today’s news, you can get away with the “hmm… Let’s see what Steve Jobs did today” thing. Faith is different. Faith has a deep and rich history, and a calendar published WAY in advance.

That’s why I feel like such a dolt for missing All Souls Day last week. Luckily for me I was reminded by my friend Julie Fay, columnist and blogger. We’ve just reconnected after 17 years (thank you Facebook) and while catching up on her blog I read HER post on All Souls Day.

I haven’t had too much death in my life, but some of them have moved me deeply. Sure, when my paternal grandfather died I was disconnected from that side of my family. However, when my maternal grandfather died about 16 years ago it hit me pretty hard. He was given a military funeral (as a WWII disabled veteran) with all the bells and whistles. When that bugler starts, it’s not possible to remain unmoved. The rest of my family has (mercifully) been well.

Sure, a few folks outside I the family have touched me as well. Michelle’s dad Pete, who for a while was the closest thing I had to a father. Lori from HS, who decided a year after graduation to leap from a local bridge. Ken from college. That one hurt in so many ways. Eric, the middle schooler I saw each day. I couldn’t cry for him publicly because I was the anchor of the Community Crisis Team.

Some people know everything about death. They can tell you days and dates. They remember All Souls Day and memorial services and such. That’s not me. The few deaths I’ve dealt with have been painful enough that to memorialize that pain is too much for me.

Please don’t get me wrong. I’ll never forget the day they died. The days afterward. Those days held pain for me for a long time afterward. They were the only days I could remember.  The pain became a tall fence that prevented me from seeing what was behind it, what came before. Every calendar page I tore off took me further from the fence. Now I’ve reached higher ground. The fence is still there, but I can see the beauty beyond it. The long drive I took with my grandad that one Thanksgiving we were both leaving late. Sitting by the pool with Pete. The play I did in middle school with Lori.  Sharing a coffee in the Commons with Ken. Eric, who made me crazy as a student but who I liked as a person.

Some things are better held at a distance.

Considering my history, I hope it’s easy to understand that I might not agree with all the teachings of my faith. Since my mother is divorced, some of those teachings, technically, make me an unwelcome member of the faith. Others would alienate my friends. Heck, I rarely receive communion because I’m suppossed to go to confession to cleanse my soul before, but it’s been nearly a decade since I went.

So I figured if I am going to write about faith, I should take time to go over some of the biggest issues that people have with religion and flesh them out here. You know the ones:

• Abortion
• Birth Control
• Confession
• Divorce
• Euthanasia
• Gay marriage
• Homosexuality
• Pre-Marital Sex

I already kind of spoke about Heaven and Hell, but I guess I will look back and see if that was really exhaustive on the idea. I’m sure I will think of others, but those are the first that come to mind. If you think of others, please feel free to let me know. I’d love to hear what others think of our approach to religion with the kids.

In a way, though, don’t most people treat their faith like a cafeteria? I know it’s true of catholicism. If you have any gay friends, then you have to set aside some of the tenets of catholicism. If you think it’s acceptable for a young girl ( in Alaska?) to terminate a pregnancy instead of becoming a teenage mother, then you are a ‘Cafeteria Catholic.’ Faith is complicated. I suppose if I am going to write about faith, it makes sense to state my beliefs explicitly.

The next issue for the Cafeteria Catholic- Abortion

I often wonder, during the more than 120 masses I sit through each year, why there can’t be more quality sermons. I imagine creating a sermon is difficult. As a matter of fact, this site grows out of the idea that I thought I could create a weekly sermon as good or better than the ones I’ve been hearing. I may be wrong about that, and it certainly isn;t easy to be compelling and moving on a scheduled basis. The real question is ‘what makes a quality sermon?’ Thomas J. Leonard (I have no idea who he is!) offers these Top Ten Elements of a Great Speech. I thought we could deconstruct the sermon and see what happens.

1. A proper introduction and/or self-introduction.

Many sermons fall down right here. If you don’t grab the audience, it’s hard to get them back. One of the better preacher at my church used to start with “while I was in Target the other day” or “as I stood in line at the grocery store.” This helps to humanize him, and connected the sermon immediately to us, as we thought “this might actually apply to my everyday existence.”

2. Acknowledge and touch the audience.

The preacher is a step above us all, literally and figuratively when he enters the pulpit. Somehow, a preacher needs to be sitting with us, and not above us. Otherwise the sermon is just dogmatic, and the sentiments lost on folks who can discount it with “he doesn’t understand what it’s like down here.”

3. A concise statement of purpose of the speech.

Many preachers bury the statement of purpose late in the sermon. If you front-load it, it’s heavy-handed. However, if you bury the lead too far in, we never get it. The drone has become too loud, and we can not be called to attention to hear the most important statement of all. A clever or moving anecdote followed by our statement of purpose brings it home. Say it a few times. It helps.

4. Acknowledge and honor the audience’s resistance and doubts about your topic/purpose or about you.

A good preacher knows just how to make us all feel in the same boat. “I know you have bills to pay, I know you have mouths to feed, I know the economy is hurting us all, but God’s work is even more important today then ever! Men and women are struggling to meet their obligations, and they need our help. Heaven knows that it might someday be us in need. I would come to the community just the same to ask on your behalf. Be there for your neighbors.” Find a man not reaching for his wallet, and I’ll show you a deaf man.

5. Create a sense of urgency.

Why is this important to me? I’m a pretty good guy. I don’t have to be that much different in my day-to-day life. Often the story is of some person who had a life changing event and can no longer do what is needed. The man killed after a fight with his wife. The father whose daughter runs away, and he realizes he’s never told her how much he loves her. The son who gets a girl pregnant because his family was too embarrassed to bring up sex. These stories create an urgency, a “don’t let this happen to you” vibe.

6. Present the solution.

There is a lot of thought and reflection required in religion. Thought and reflection are easy to postpone. People need actions that they can enact that will create the change sought. Sure, it would be great if we were all holy and virtuous, thoughtful and community-minded. We’re not. Being faithful is difficult for many of us. We need to be led. We need to be told what to do. Those who do should be kind enough to say QUIETLY to themselves that they already do these things, and be encouraging to those who don’t. Too often preachers aren’t prescriptive for fear of offending those who don’t need prescriptions.

7. Make your specific points, the steps needed and the obstacles to reaching the objective.

Walk me step by step through the process. “If he were to have done this, then that, then the other thing, he might have made it work.” If it sounds simple and accessible, I can do it.

8. Share or draw a conclusion.

Now we need to take the whole thing and sum it up. Remind me of why I need this. Let me know that this is not just about what is right, but how my ever-living soul benefits from this. Tell me how this is better for you, me, my family, and my faith.

9. Ask for something: action, willingness, a change, support.

You can leave church with the idea that the changes asked of you are so far beyond your control or grasp that you can’t manage it today- it will have to be for another day. A good sermon gives us something to do right now. “Go home and sit with your children, and tell them how you feel.” There should be a long-range plan, but we need to be aware of the first step, and we need to know that it has to happen- now.

10. Q&A or a fresh statement of the speech.

In my opinion, this comes at the end of the service. The sermon is buried mid-service. We need to be sent out the door with our marching orders. The last thing I hear needs to be your call to action. Remind me before I go to get it done now.

The best sermons I’ve heard have often been from non-priests. Rabbis, Ministers and deacons. People who, in my opinion, lead lives more closely related to those of their parishioners. They can marry. They can have children. While they are still religiously ‘above’ where we are, their status as family men and women puts them one step closer to ‘us’ on the ladder.