Every weekday while his son was attending high school, Al Parisi would put a note in his son Anthony’s lunch bag.  Here is one that caught my attention:

Dear Anthony,

Mahatma Gandhi said that seven things will kill us:

* getting something through nefarious means
* a lack of responsibility and accountability
* a misuse of knowledge
* a lack of ethics
* a mentality which has at its core “progress at any cost”
* the social façade of religion/using religion to justify evil
* a lack of moral leadership

The antidote to these seven things is a strong value system.

Be SMART!

Love, Dad

What we’re really talking about is having strong moral character. What additional steps can you take to strengthen your character? By now you should already have made great strides in building up your character. If not, do so. You owe it to yourself and the Lord.

[Excerpt from More Lunch Bag Notes by Anthony & Al Parisi, pg. 210-211]

I was told this yarn recently by a Jesuit with a strong interest in Eastern Europe.  I can’t guarantee that it is accurate, but I liked the story and hope it is true.

During the Soviet era, Jesuits had to live “underground.”  Men joined the Jesuits and did their training one-on-one with someone while still going about their “normal” lives.

After the fall of the Soviet Union, one young Estonian man decided it was time to tell his family that he was, in fact, a Jesuit priest. His family were all gathered for a big meal when he announced to them his vocation as a Jesuit.  There were various reactions, but that of his younger brother was the most remarkable: “You mean, like me you’re a Jesuit, too!”

According to Richard Rohr, the Sufi mystic Rumi [1207-1273] is the most popular poet in the whole world.  In the new DVD, which accompanies his about-to-be-released (by Loyola Press!) On The Threshold Of Transformation, Richard quotes from Rumi’s poem, The Guest House. Try these lines on for size:

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!

You can read the entire poem here.

I have already written about the excellent blog, Men on the Journey [MoJo for short!] that Tom McGrath and Joe Durepos are hosting to accompany the release of Richard’s book, but let me encourage you [guys especially] to check it out.

My friend and Blogalogue companion, Meredith, has a wonderful piece on Contemplative Cooking over at our near relative, the dotMagis blog.

Unlike Meredith, I practice frantic cooking.  Coming from a mother who loathed cooking and who pretty much boiled to mush every foodstuff with which she had to deal, I have never been at ease in the kitchen. Knives cut you, stoves burn you, moldy bread sickens you, dirty dishes depress you… why would anyone ever want to go there?  Isn’t that why God invented restaurants?

In my community, there are several great cooks – would they want to be called chefs? – and so I am content to let them stir and simmer their pots and potions while I set the table, serve the cocktails and do the washing-up.  On the rare occasions when I am doing something more elaborate than popping a package into the microwave, I approach the task of cooking with trepidation – like a general with a few limping troops trying to besiege a mighty fortress.

I start sweating even before I ladle in the curry powder, Tabasco, Worchestershire sauce, cayenne pepper and other dribs and drabs that I use to give my “cooking” some zest.  Unlike with most things in life, I begin by assuming the worst and beat myself up when it all goes awry because of my lack of culinary skills.  On those few occasions, when whatever I end up with turns out to be palatable, I allow myself to be inordinately delighted.

Where am I going with this?  In what area of your life have you decided that you are hopeless?  What pretty ordinary thing can seem like an insurmountable burden to you?  Or am I the only weird one out here?

The Master seemed quite impervious to what people thought of him. When the disciples asked how he had attained this stage of inner freedom, he laughed aloud and said:

“Till I was twenty I did not care what people thought of me.

After twenty I worried endlessly about what my neighbors thought.

Then one day after fifty I suddenly saw that they hardly ever thought of me at all.”

[Source: http://www.soulwise.net/99adms1.htm]

[Photo credit: Otolemur crassicaudatus from Flickr]

Although you might be familiar with the term “affluenza” [there has, apparently, been a PBS show on the subject], I only encountered it for the first time recently.  Our friends at Wikipedia say that PBS defined the combination of “affluence” and “influenza” in the following way:

affluenza, n. 1. The bloated, sluggish and unfulfilled feeling that results from efforts to keep up with the Joneses. 2. An epidemic of stress, overwork, waste and indebtedness caused by the pursuit of the American Dream. 3. An unsustainable addiction to economic growth.

Wikipedia also tells us that British psychologist Oliver James claims there is “a correlation between the increasing nature of affluenza and the resulting increase in material inequality: the more unequal a society, the greater the unhappiness of its citizens.”

It seems to me there is some validity to this assertion, but can it really be that simple?

Denise Gorss, one of the “bright young things,” has come up with lessons we can learn about finding God in these days when so many are getting ready to go back to school.

6 Lessons Back-to-School Season Teaches for Finding God

Back-to-school season has lessons in finding God for all of us, not just those with children heading back after summer vacation. Here are six lessons I’m reflecting on this year.

1. Have your supplies ready.
With school, it’s backpacks, notebooks (spiral or computer kind), pencils, and crayons. For finding God, it might be a notebook for reflective journaling, a helpful Web site for theological information, or a favorite prayer book. We can meet God with nothing, but sometimes it helps to have a few guides on the journey.

2. Do your homework.
We can get by in faith life with going to church once a week, but that’s the minimum in a relationship with God. For maximum understanding, we need to do some work between “classes”—daily prayer being the most important. A relationship with God also grows from time spent in learning more about our faith, whether in a formal parish setting, informal conversations with other people of faith, or private time in reading and conversation with God.

3. Meet new people.
The new school year was always a great chance to make new friends. As adults, we should take the time this autumn to consider our community of faith. Do you know the people who sit around you in church? What can you do to make new friends in faith?

4. Dedicate time in your day.
The school day is marked by a schedule. God doesn’t require a strict schedule from us, but we have to make the time for God in the midst of our overcrowded days if we want to recognize God more easily in the everyday.

5. Take a break for recess.
Educators know that children need breaks in the day for their minds to work most fully when it is time to focus. Retreats are one adult version of recess, allowing us to step back from the everyday tasks and reflect on what’s most important. Even if you don’t have time or resources to go away on a retreat, there are ways to step away from the ordinary to get a fresh perspective.

6. Pay attention.
To recognize God’s presence, we have to pay attention to the ways—both big and small—that God is working in our lives and calling us to be our best selves and people for others.

What lessons does back-to-school season offer you?

Eric, one of the first and most faithful followers of this blog, recently sent me a reflection he wrote for his church bulletin.  I am honored to share it with you.

“Jesus began to weep” (John 11:35)

Those of us who are older grew up hearing again and again words such as “almighty”, “eternal”, “infinite” and “unchanging” attributed to God.  When sorrow, illness, or other suffering comes to us, we plead with our great God to fix such things and relieve our suffering.  Many times God answers our prayers giving us what we ask for, and also many times God does not grant specifically what we ask for.  When our suffering is not eased, God can seem distant and uncaring.

One of the things that Jesus revealed to us is that God is never distant and uncaring.  There is a great deal of mystery in the passage in John’s gospel in which Jesus raises Lazarus from the dead.  This article addresses only one point in this passage.  Jesus stood in front of Lazarus’ tomb and wept.  He wept in grief for his friend.  He wept for the sorrow of Martha and Mary.  He wept as we weep over the death of a loved one.

One recent morning as I lay in bed, I told God of heartaches related to my illness.  In my prayer I saw the infinite Creator weep.  I saw Jesus sitting by my bed.  He dropped his head on to my chest and wept.  My Lord and my God was weeping for me.
When suffering enters your life, and you cry out to God, know this.  Your God, who loves you more than you love yourself, shares your sorrow, feels your heartache, and weeps with you.  This is mysterious to our human minds, but it is true.  Jesus revealed this to us.  When you next pray to God in suffering, open your hearts to hear God’s words of comfort, care, and love.  Know that God is with you sharing your burden.

As you probably know by now, Denise Levertov is one of my favorite poets. I don’t quite know why, but I’ve been going to her a lot recently. She feeds something deep within me. Here are a few lines from The Fountain:

Don’t say, don’t say there is no water

to solace the dryness at our hearts.

I have seen

the fountain springing out of the rock wall

and you drinking there. And I too

before your eyes

found footholds and climbed

to drink the cool water.

You can read the entire poem here.