Write for God

The sanctity of life is a seamless garment, as Cardinal Bernardin so accurately put it. Yet, too often, Catholics defending life in the womb condemn life on Death Row when they appoint themselves God and pretend they have the ultimate power to say who should die. The United States is the last “civilized” power that maintains its Bible Belt of death. It’s no coincidence that George W. Bush presided over more executions when he was the Governor of Texas than any other elected official.

CNN.com has collected some last words from America’s Death Row from Court TV’s files. These should make every Catholic think about the sanctity of life:

 ”There is no man that is free from all evil, nor any man that is so evil to be worth nothing.”
– David Castillo, executed in Texas on August 23, 1998

“Forgiveness: Giving up all hope for a better past.”
– Robert Lee Massie, executed in California on March 27, 2001

“Regardless of what might be seen or thought of what might be seen, there is still love, mercy and justice. Because God said that all that he has made is good and once you realize that and believe in that, everything will be fine.”
– Willie Ervin Fisher, executed in North Carolina on March 9, 2001

Several dedicated groups are working to end the death penalty in America. One that is faithful to the Magisterium and has very good newsletter is Catholics Against Capital Punishment. Although it wasn’t on CNN’s list of final words, some of the most potent words from Death Row came from Jesus when he said, “Father, forgive them, they know not what they do.”

January 1 is World Day of Peace, in addition to being Our Lady’s Day. It will be a good day to pray for an end to legalized murder in all forms in our nation.

The father is a craftsman, the mother young and inexperienced. They’re carrying an infant whose life is in danger. God guides the father to take his little family across the border to another country for their safety. They make the journey and remain outside their homeland for a certain time. Presumably, the father uses his skills to support the family and the mother cares for their child. When it’s safe to return home, they make the journey back. 

This isn’t the story of a Central American or Mexican family of “illegal” aliens, although it could be. On December 30, the Church celebrates the Holy Family and the Gospel tells the story of their flight to Egypt. It’s a good thing that the ancient world didn’t have overzealous Border Patrol agents or Minutemen watching the line between Palestine and Egypt. “And so they were deported…” might not have fit in St.Matthew narrative in today’s readings.

How many families with fathers who have menial skills, mothers who are young and infants in God’s image are suffering because of our immigration policies? During this season of love and compassion and on the day when the Holy Family is venerated, we should all examine how we treat those who are strangers in our land. As Leviticus says, we too were “once aliens in the land of Egypt.”

“She lived in solitude, and now in solitude has built her nest;
and now in solitude He guides her, He alone, who also bears
in solitude the wound of love. “

Saint John of the Cross
Spiritual Canticle

Since 1990, I had worked for two of the largest and most stable employers in the Florida county where I live. During the years when I had a secure job, I had little reason to think how my life would change if I suddenly weren’t employed. The first step in what has turned out to be my most significant spiritual journey began in October when I found myself with nowhere to go on a Monday morning for the first time in almost 18 years.

By coincidence—or divine guidance—I had been reading Dante’s Commedia in three Italian/English editions. In many ways, Dante’s trek has paralleled my own. The poet and I had worked in local government and we had both run afoul of pig-eyed political powers. Dante was exiled from Florence, but at least it was only my place of employment that I had to abandon. He divides his Commedia into journeys through Hell, Purgatory and Paradise; I’m out of Hell now, but Paradise is a long way off for me yet.

In poet Robert Pinsky’s rich translation, Dante begins the first canto of Inferno with the words,

Midway on our life’s journey, I found myself

In dark woods, the right road lost.  

Two days after my 50^th birthday, I found myself without a guarantee there would be a paycheck at the end of any week. The woods were black indeed.

Was it unexpected? Yes and no. Excellent performance ratings from your supervisor usually don’t lead to unemployment, but Florida is an “at will” labor state where bosses don’t need to justify why they want you to leave. There were many reasons why I resigned under duress, which I won’t go into here, but 11 Mondays without a reason to go anywhere have taught me some lasting spiritual lessons, as exile was Dante’s teacher.  The last thing I said as I left work that Friday afternoon was, “God will take care of me.” I was on my way to many days when that would be put to the test.

The first days that I was without a job, I cried and raged. I’m the working parent in our family of four children and a stay-at-home father. Without my income, we had no backup financial plan. That issue is still not resolved but, in every way other than having a paycheck, losing my job was the best thing that could have happened to bring me closer to God.

The most valuable lesson I’ve learned is discerning who my real friends are. In these weeks, a small group of former co-workers has stuck by me with encouragement and job leads. One is coping with a husband who has cancer and another has two young children and a career, but they’ve made time to check on me. Another friend lives out of state and juggles a job and two boys. Others have taken me to lunch and will email or call weekly to see if I’m all right. I’ve thanked God for these ordinary saints in my circle.

The people who saw me on the job daily during the last year of my job have dropped me. Most likely they’re afraid of running crossways of the boss, too. I received a Christmas card from one but no one else whom I greeted, laughed with, had lunch with or passed reading material to during that year has acknowledged the fact that I’m suddenly not there. The bosses I had in the year before last haven’t, either. I’ve been tutored in the real nature of friendship and the lessons have come from those who turned out not be my friends.

I’ve also realized that the job I had and the title on my business cards wasn’t who I was. I was always a writer and writing turned out to be only a part of my duties at the job I left. I worked for an elected official who had—as a friend of mine put it—a great disconnect between her public self and the private self with the office staff. I wrote articles and columns and placed her name on the byline to make her sound intelligent and interesting. I had to laugh when constituents wrote in complimenting her on her excellent columns. I ended up just taking that as a private pat on the back. After years in public relations, I’m finding it more distasteful to spend my talents and energies making someone else sound good. I’m more intelligent and interesting writing for myself.

I had a Thai lunch with three genuine friends just before Christmas. One urged me to pursue legal action, another offered me freelance assignments and the third gave me a hug and wished me well. I’m grateful to God for friends who care in so many ways. Sainthood and friendship aren’t about huge miracles, but about small acts of caring. As I left the restaurant, I was not employed and I had less money in my purse than when I walked in, but I felt supremely blessed to have these people in my life.

The last words of the Inferno came to mind as I walked to my car. Dante has left Hell and is now journeying to Purgatory as he says,

Through a round aperture I saw appear

Some of the beautiful things that Heaven bears

Where we came forth, and once more saw the stars.

Belief and gratitude are easy when things are going well, but all the more meaningful when you’re still in dark woods, but you remember to look above to see the stars. Don’t miss them even if you feel lost.   

“Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by this some have entertained angels without knowing it.” (Hebrews 13:2)

I would be remiss if I didn’t show hospitality to a fellow seeker who finds this page. Welcome to my new blog, which takes its name from a quote by Thomas Merton, my spiritual guide and one of my favorite writers. (The full quote in New Seeds of Contemplation reads: “If you write for God, you will reach many men and bring them joy. If you write for men, you may make some money, and you may give someone a little joy, and you may make a noise in the world—for a little while. If you write only for yourself, you can read what you yourself have written, and after ten minutes, you will be so disgusted you will wish that you were dead.” As a prolific author whose vow of poverty prevented him from writing for money, Merton had to excel at writing for God.) 

Hospitality can mean opening one’s door to visitor, but its deeper meaning is to show care and kindness to anyone who needs it. Too often I despair at the lack of compassion I see around me:  letters to the editor in our local paper are full of selfish pronouncements about the cost of providing care tothe homeless, the mentally ill, the poor and uneducated, undocumented aliens and those who have committed crimes. This week, I even read two letters from self-righteous people who resented the parents of premature multiples for having too many sick babies who will require medical care. In a world where even the tiniest and most fragile of creatures are resented for what it costs to keep them alive, how can we hope to show hospitality to a homeless drug addict or to someone who mows our lawns but doesn’t have a visa?

As the world grows increasingly cold and unhospitable, it is our duty as Roman Catholics to live the words of Matthew 25: 34-46. When we feed the hungry, we feed Jesus. The strangers among us could be angels we are entertaining. Reach out to someone in need. Never let your right hand know what the left is doing when you give. Don’t be so quick to judge another’s need based on whether they carry a legal document that proves they’re “legal”–as if God judged us all by that standard. Surprise a stranger with your kindness and don’t forget to be thankful that you were given the opportunity to do so.

I sometimes shop at a no-frills supermarket that serves many poor patrons. Recently, the cashier added a can that belonged to the shopper behind me to my bill. The other shopper didn’t notice until she looked in her bag for the item. She asked me if it had gotten mixed in with the purchases I was bagging myself. It had and I had paid for it. Deeply embarassed, she offered to repay me the 79 cents if she could have her item back. She was preparing a special meal for her husband and the green chili peppers were an important ingredient. She was shocked when I gave her the can without asking to be reimbursed. She didn’t look like “us” and I didn’t ask to see her visa to show her hospitality. For less than 80 cents, I might have entertained an angel. I know I made a stranger smile.

When your children see you show compassion, they learn to be compassionate. No matter how much we might think that CCD classes or tuition at a parochial school will teach them the Gospel, it is in seeing us live Matthew’s words that they in turn learn the words of Jesus.  

Click on the about link if you’d like to know more about me. I welcome you to my blog and to sharing the Gospel.   May we all entertain angels!

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