I began writing this entry at a bar on a Friday night, while dinner guests were arriving at my home. I was in the midst of waiting one hour for the next train after my usual 5:12 pulled out one minute early. People say that everything happens for a reason.
I hate that phrase. It strikes me as vague and detached; so amorphous as to be meaningless. The insight of the statement rivals that of observing that "the sun rose again this morning". I recognize that folks mean well when they say it, especially in the absence of anything better. When life seems out to get you and you are getting less than you deserve – it may help to blunt the non-sense of it all. But it sounds passive to me - implying that we should not get angry about or respond to any turn of events, because there is some beyond-us good reason for it.
But that's just it…the important thing is the reason. When it comes to explaining God's will (cosmic forces, fate, or whatever you choose to call it) we can't end up anywhere but short. Our little minds and our limited vantage points can't possibly know the reason why personal tragedies (to pick extreme occurrences) happen. So, the overused cliché attempts to explain away our lack of understanding with ambiguity. Though we may lack the vision to perceive why it's happened, it is solely up to us as to what we make of each day on which the sun has risen. Our free choice can fill the vacuum; we create the reason…or not.
Given that "everything happens for a reason", then there must be a reason that I am still here. My spiritually gifted friend Eric suggested that it was not my time (to go) yet, because God still has a plan for me. That thought made me simultaneously swell with self-importance and cower slightly at the awesome responsibility of it all. Maybe the reason is "merely" Ana and Noah. Though there are too many instances of parents ragically ripped from their families - or (worse) kids taken away from their parents.
My challenge is to identify that reason. I haven't been able to completely discern that yet. I am feeling my way towards it – like looking for that light switch in the dark. Any help, whether human or divine, would be much appreciated. I (only half-) joke about God sending a huge neon arrow to point the way for me.
All I feel I can do sometimes is to put myself in the best position to find out. That, in turn, requires that I get out of my comfort zone. The familiar can anesthetize us to the wondrous potential in life and in people. There is no denying that, like the rising sun, the reasons are right in front of us every day.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Monday, November 2, 2009
Life Changers
There are many things that can change your life. Often they are events or experiences. Sometimes it is people whose paths we cross. Occasionally it will be an object or thing. The intersection may be brief but leave a lasting impression. Or the impact could be deep and yet the effect relatively fleeting.
People will talk about books that changed their lives. Maybe a classic like On The Road that shaped a teenager's aspirations or a memoir that opened up a new world. It could be that BMW that you've always imagined yourself zipping around in; or that charming Victorian in the lovely neighborhood next door to where you grew up.
It might be the grandmother that relayed tales of courage and sacrifice during the war and never shows anything less than boundless respect for everyone she meets. Or the college professor that brought you a world of ideas that you'd never considered before but apply every day.
It could be the end of a loving relationship, the tragic loss of a child or quadruple bypass surgery. This weekend brings together two of the events in my life that have changed me forever.
Saturday the 31st was the first anniversary of my initial cancer diagnosis. It was mid-afternoon last Halloween after my first endoscopy when my serious Syrian GI specialist told me that based on her experience and what she had seen, that I likely had pancreatic cancer. It would be a few days before a biopsy confirmed her dire prognosis. To say that I was stunned is, of course, an understatement. Suddenly empty might describe it better. The saying goes that some things feel like "it was a lifetime ago". The start of this cancer journey for me, almost literally, is. Halloween 2008 is like that day between BC and AD in my personal life.
On Sunday, I ran my sixth NYC Marathon. I was on the verge of running it last year til I started turning orange and evil cancer stood firmly between me and the starting line. Thanks be to God, I was able to drag myself through the 26 miles this year in a respectable 4 hrs and 25 minutes. My slowest time yet – but then again I ain't getting any younger either.
I credit my first marathon experience and every one since with many lessons that prepared me for this cancer marathon. I entered my first one in 1997 just so that I could one day tell my grandkids that their grandpa once ran through his great hometown. I got much, much more than mere intergenerational bragging rights out of that run. Most importantly, I discovered that there is nothing that I cannot do if I put my all into it. Also, I learned to appreciate that not all suffering is automatically a bad thing to be avoided at any cost. Finally, I developed a sensitivity to the goings-on in my body that I still relish and has served me well throughout this illness.
As it turned out, several of my life changers have built upon each other. I've read the book, had the teachers and many friends, listened to grandmothers and watched loving relationships end. Each seems, in hindsight, to be a deliberate preparation for this ultimate life changer. I imagine and hope that it won't be my last.
Today was yet another significant day – my 43rd birthday. Now that I've run the race, I am just holding out til the grandkids arrive so that I can tell 'em the story.
PS – The thing about life changers is that they are not automatic. They can be brushed under the heavy carpet of our life's history. It may be easier not to alter our comfortable trajectory. But potential life changers ignored are like opportunities for growth left on the table - and that is nothing short of a terrible shame.
People will talk about books that changed their lives. Maybe a classic like On The Road that shaped a teenager's aspirations or a memoir that opened up a new world. It could be that BMW that you've always imagined yourself zipping around in; or that charming Victorian in the lovely neighborhood next door to where you grew up.
It might be the grandmother that relayed tales of courage and sacrifice during the war and never shows anything less than boundless respect for everyone she meets. Or the college professor that brought you a world of ideas that you'd never considered before but apply every day.
It could be the end of a loving relationship, the tragic loss of a child or quadruple bypass surgery. This weekend brings together two of the events in my life that have changed me forever.
Saturday the 31st was the first anniversary of my initial cancer diagnosis. It was mid-afternoon last Halloween after my first endoscopy when my serious Syrian GI specialist told me that based on her experience and what she had seen, that I likely had pancreatic cancer. It would be a few days before a biopsy confirmed her dire prognosis. To say that I was stunned is, of course, an understatement. Suddenly empty might describe it better. The saying goes that some things feel like "it was a lifetime ago". The start of this cancer journey for me, almost literally, is. Halloween 2008 is like that day between BC and AD in my personal life.
On Sunday, I ran my sixth NYC Marathon. I was on the verge of running it last year til I started turning orange and evil cancer stood firmly between me and the starting line. Thanks be to God, I was able to drag myself through the 26 miles this year in a respectable 4 hrs and 25 minutes. My slowest time yet – but then again I ain't getting any younger either.
I credit my first marathon experience and every one since with many lessons that prepared me for this cancer marathon. I entered my first one in 1997 just so that I could one day tell my grandkids that their grandpa once ran through his great hometown. I got much, much more than mere intergenerational bragging rights out of that run. Most importantly, I discovered that there is nothing that I cannot do if I put my all into it. Also, I learned to appreciate that not all suffering is automatically a bad thing to be avoided at any cost. Finally, I developed a sensitivity to the goings-on in my body that I still relish and has served me well throughout this illness.
As it turned out, several of my life changers have built upon each other. I've read the book, had the teachers and many friends, listened to grandmothers and watched loving relationships end. Each seems, in hindsight, to be a deliberate preparation for this ultimate life changer. I imagine and hope that it won't be my last.
Today was yet another significant day – my 43rd birthday. Now that I've run the race, I am just holding out til the grandkids arrive so that I can tell 'em the story.
PS – The thing about life changers is that they are not automatic. They can be brushed under the heavy carpet of our life's history. It may be easier not to alter our comfortable trajectory. But potential life changers ignored are like opportunities for growth left on the table - and that is nothing short of a terrible shame.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
The Prayer Challenge
I have always struggled a bit with prayer - what form should it take, how to address God, what to say, what to ask for, what's the point, etc. I don't think that this is particularly unique for anyone who chooses to address God from time to time.
Several years ago, I decided that I would change the tone of my praying and the way that I addressed God. Rather than adopt a little me talking to the all-powerful God type of perspective, I would address God as more of a friend That was, after all, consistent with the more familiar relationship that I was looking to foster w/him. I would start my prayers w/something akin to "Hi God. What's up? Just checking in…" That worked for me for a while but in the end was a somewhat empty familiarity in that it was unfounded. It was like those guys that call you buddy when they barely know you. "How's it going buddy? Have I got a deal for you."
When the awareness that something was wrong in my body began about a year ago, my prayers took on a new urgent significance. As I was seeing different doctors and having various tests done, I would pray, at each step of the way, that God would grant me the best news/result at that particular juncture. So, it was that I was relieved when it wasn't a kidney problem; relieved when it wasn't a mysterious virus; relieved that it wasn't hepatitis. At every step, I could rest assured that my prayers might be getting answered in that whatever news I did get was the best at that point. Until, I was left with few "good" options of what it could be. [At one point I heard about a woman who had similar symptoms and ultimately found that she had an issue with her belly button. So, I prayed for the belly button option.] Even once the cancer was confirmed, there was little time or emotional space for spiritual accountability - there were critical medical decisions to be made. As it turned out, I now see that it just so happens that God came through at each crossroad and ultimately did give me the best news that he could.
Looking back on that progression and on my relationship with God since, I have consciously been trying to pray a little differently. Until now in my life, my prayer requests have been very general - that God be present or help out in a given situation, I left Him a lot of leeway. It was ultimately up to Him on what he was going to provide and how something was going to go down so I didn't get too specific in my requests. Being polite and non-demanding n my prayer requests was also very safe. By doing so, I wasn't holding God accountable and so I never had to confront him when/if he fell short of my needs or expectations.
Lately, I have been challenging myself to have a better (more intimate) relationship with God. I've been looking to up the ante for both of us. I've been trying to be specific in my prayer requests and then deal with the disappointment if those requests are (seemingly) denied. A setback merely invites another, albeit more difficult, conversation with him.
It is analogous to the choices we make in the way that we conduct our relationships with those near to us. My relationship with Jacquelyn would probably be much more sanguine if I made few or no specific requests of her, if I never asked her to fulfill my needs. But it is precisely in how we express our needs and then go about satisfying them for each other that is the basis of the love in our (any) relationship. The waters might be calmer in the absence of such exchanges but they wouldn't be very deep.
So, in seeking a deeper and healthier and more intimate relationship with God - and all of the important people in my life, really - I am putting my wants and needs out there. I am asking and then dealing with the potentially messy consequences. It may be a more difficult row to hoe but will, I trust, be far more fulfilling.
Several years ago, I decided that I would change the tone of my praying and the way that I addressed God. Rather than adopt a little me talking to the all-powerful God type of perspective, I would address God as more of a friend That was, after all, consistent with the more familiar relationship that I was looking to foster w/him. I would start my prayers w/something akin to "Hi God. What's up? Just checking in…" That worked for me for a while but in the end was a somewhat empty familiarity in that it was unfounded. It was like those guys that call you buddy when they barely know you. "How's it going buddy? Have I got a deal for you."
When the awareness that something was wrong in my body began about a year ago, my prayers took on a new urgent significance. As I was seeing different doctors and having various tests done, I would pray, at each step of the way, that God would grant me the best news/result at that particular juncture. So, it was that I was relieved when it wasn't a kidney problem; relieved when it wasn't a mysterious virus; relieved that it wasn't hepatitis. At every step, I could rest assured that my prayers might be getting answered in that whatever news I did get was the best at that point. Until, I was left with few "good" options of what it could be. [At one point I heard about a woman who had similar symptoms and ultimately found that she had an issue with her belly button. So, I prayed for the belly button option.] Even once the cancer was confirmed, there was little time or emotional space for spiritual accountability - there were critical medical decisions to be made. As it turned out, I now see that it just so happens that God came through at each crossroad and ultimately did give me the best news that he could.
Looking back on that progression and on my relationship with God since, I have consciously been trying to pray a little differently. Until now in my life, my prayer requests have been very general - that God be present or help out in a given situation, I left Him a lot of leeway. It was ultimately up to Him on what he was going to provide and how something was going to go down so I didn't get too specific in my requests. Being polite and non-demanding n my prayer requests was also very safe. By doing so, I wasn't holding God accountable and so I never had to confront him when/if he fell short of my needs or expectations.
Lately, I have been challenging myself to have a better (more intimate) relationship with God. I've been looking to up the ante for both of us. I've been trying to be specific in my prayer requests and then deal with the disappointment if those requests are (seemingly) denied. A setback merely invites another, albeit more difficult, conversation with him.
It is analogous to the choices we make in the way that we conduct our relationships with those near to us. My relationship with Jacquelyn would probably be much more sanguine if I made few or no specific requests of her, if I never asked her to fulfill my needs. But it is precisely in how we express our needs and then go about satisfying them for each other that is the basis of the love in our (any) relationship. The waters might be calmer in the absence of such exchanges but they wouldn't be very deep.
So, in seeking a deeper and healthier and more intimate relationship with God - and all of the important people in my life, really - I am putting my wants and needs out there. I am asking and then dealing with the potentially messy consequences. It may be a more difficult row to hoe but will, I trust, be far more fulfilling.
Monday, October 5, 2009
September Sensitivities
I have faced another new reality in my life in the past couple of weeks. For better or worse, my awareness is heightened when it comes to any unexplained physical ailment. I am now always suspect, always sick – so that any unusual symptoms could "mean" something.
I had been feeling intermittently off for much of September. I was feeling some abdominal pain, diarrhea, loss of appetite, fever, excessive burping and a general tiredness. A little of this, a little of that, coming and going, a couple of days each week, none of it serious, and then I would feel fine. In days of old, I would probably not have gone to see a doctor the whole time – waiting it out instead.
On the other side of the coin, I was also upping the miles on my marathon training this past month. Weekends are when I do my long runs and early in the week was when I felt worst – so I wondered if there was a connection there. Besides being vigilant post-cancer, training also makes me extra in-tune with my body – so, I thought that I might just be ultra-sensitive to minor changes in my body. The worries of the loved ones around me made me regret sharing so much news of my minor discomforts with them (at first), but finally convinced me to go get checked out.
Ultimately, I feel that I was patient but attentive. I have a whole stable of doctors to choose from and didn't know exactly which one to approach. By the second week of discomfort, I was in contact with three different ones. My general practitioner suspected a stomach virus (the fallback diagnosis) during week 2. My surgeon didn't seem overly concerned but suggested an appointment soon. My gastroenterologist prescribed some blood work and a CAT scan by week 3. The scan seemed like overkill but who am I to argue with the woman who first early-diagnosed this cancer nearly a year ago.
Thankfully, all looks "perfect" in her words. My CA19-9, a marker for the cancer, is as low as ever. The CAT scan looks beautifully unchanged from the last one (just two months ago). The only curious thing was that my white blood cell count is out of range on the low side. Considering that it's been 3 months since my last chemo treatment, I would have thought my blood counts would have returned to normal. Still, a decreased ability to fight off viruses would be consistent with my having a couple of different little sicknesses during the course of the month.
Thank God for my continued good health. I have often said that I feel that God has been walking beside me throughout this ordeal. When I was receiving my chemo or radiation treatments, I would imagine God directing the poison and searing damage directly to the cancer cells. And so, although I still most assuredly believe that He is with me, I am challenged now to recognize something beyond that. God is not only beside me, before me and behind me. God is in me. I believe that God wants to express himself through all of us. I would actually like to believe that he wants me to be well. The potential is there for him to express himself through me always – but only if I can recognize and accept that possibility. Living that life is a lot more difficult than it may seem.
I thank God for the grace of his transformational presence. I am also thankful that I have the opportunity to get myself checked out when I am worried about what might be brewing inside of me. And thanks to all of you who have been praying for me as Jacquelyn and I have wondered and worried about whether all was well.
I had been feeling intermittently off for much of September. I was feeling some abdominal pain, diarrhea, loss of appetite, fever, excessive burping and a general tiredness. A little of this, a little of that, coming and going, a couple of days each week, none of it serious, and then I would feel fine. In days of old, I would probably not have gone to see a doctor the whole time – waiting it out instead.
On the other side of the coin, I was also upping the miles on my marathon training this past month. Weekends are when I do my long runs and early in the week was when I felt worst – so I wondered if there was a connection there. Besides being vigilant post-cancer, training also makes me extra in-tune with my body – so, I thought that I might just be ultra-sensitive to minor changes in my body. The worries of the loved ones around me made me regret sharing so much news of my minor discomforts with them (at first), but finally convinced me to go get checked out.
Ultimately, I feel that I was patient but attentive. I have a whole stable of doctors to choose from and didn't know exactly which one to approach. By the second week of discomfort, I was in contact with three different ones. My general practitioner suspected a stomach virus (the fallback diagnosis) during week 2. My surgeon didn't seem overly concerned but suggested an appointment soon. My gastroenterologist prescribed some blood work and a CAT scan by week 3. The scan seemed like overkill but who am I to argue with the woman who first early-diagnosed this cancer nearly a year ago.
Thankfully, all looks "perfect" in her words. My CA19-9, a marker for the cancer, is as low as ever. The CAT scan looks beautifully unchanged from the last one (just two months ago). The only curious thing was that my white blood cell count is out of range on the low side. Considering that it's been 3 months since my last chemo treatment, I would have thought my blood counts would have returned to normal. Still, a decreased ability to fight off viruses would be consistent with my having a couple of different little sicknesses during the course of the month.
Thank God for my continued good health. I have often said that I feel that God has been walking beside me throughout this ordeal. When I was receiving my chemo or radiation treatments, I would imagine God directing the poison and searing damage directly to the cancer cells. And so, although I still most assuredly believe that He is with me, I am challenged now to recognize something beyond that. God is not only beside me, before me and behind me. God is in me. I believe that God wants to express himself through all of us. I would actually like to believe that he wants me to be well. The potential is there for him to express himself through me always – but only if I can recognize and accept that possibility. Living that life is a lot more difficult than it may seem.
I thank God for the grace of his transformational presence. I am also thankful that I have the opportunity to get myself checked out when I am worried about what might be brewing inside of me. And thanks to all of you who have been praying for me as Jacquelyn and I have wondered and worried about whether all was well.
Friday, September 25, 2009
Changing Relationships
One of the most wonderful results of my being diagnosed w/cancer is the relationships that I have developed and/or intensified as a result. That result has often been indirect, almost incidental. Sometimes, it is nothing more than the couldn't-be-coincidental timing that reveals the cause/effect relationship.
I am much more ready to open up to people these days. Not that I was overly private before; sometimes being frank to a fault. Just that often times in the past, I didn't think that people cared enough about what I had to offer. Now, I don't make that decision a priori – I put my stuff out there and let it roll from there.
Many of my friendships are more intense. I tell many more people how much I love them every time we part or hang up or whenever. My exchanges with long-time friends from college, for instance, are at a depth that we've never shared before.
Just as my highs are higher, my lows are lower. My heart is bigger, more sensitive. I cry much more easily now. I actually carry a handkerchief with me to church. The love and pain that folks share during the prayers of thanksgiving and prayers of need just before the end of the service usually set me off. Deeper depths and lower lows are good things.
The beauty is that I don't think this would change in the least if I was suddenly assured that my mortality was no more in danger than anyone else. It's not a function of my potential "short-timerness". The equation has irrevocably changed. It is clear why that should be the case for me with everyone I know or meet. My change is universal in that sense. So, although I feel that intimacy from others, I can't say whether this intensity is rippling out into other exchanges. (As I wish it would.) Their experience might be more local – i.e., just with me.
On the other side of the coin, possibly the single saddest outcome of my diagnosis – other than the more real possibility that I might not be around to grow up with my babies – is the relationships that have not changed very much. The disappointment for me comes from wanting something more from important relationships in my life, appreciating that import in a new way, yet having that potential unrealized. As I've said before, there is no good reason why we shouldn't listen, love, trust and share more.
I do not suddenly expect to interact with everyone I meet with the gravity of a final exchange. But I do believe that we make false choices ourselves, apply outdated models that we've carried with us since childhood, and misinterpret the intentions of others regularly. All in the service of a perspective we refuse to relinquish. It's our safe place. I've had little choice myself but to let go of many of my safe places.
None of it has been coincidental for me. Letting go has been my blessing from God. Please join me in the laughter and the tears.
I am much more ready to open up to people these days. Not that I was overly private before; sometimes being frank to a fault. Just that often times in the past, I didn't think that people cared enough about what I had to offer. Now, I don't make that decision a priori – I put my stuff out there and let it roll from there.
Many of my friendships are more intense. I tell many more people how much I love them every time we part or hang up or whenever. My exchanges with long-time friends from college, for instance, are at a depth that we've never shared before.
Just as my highs are higher, my lows are lower. My heart is bigger, more sensitive. I cry much more easily now. I actually carry a handkerchief with me to church. The love and pain that folks share during the prayers of thanksgiving and prayers of need just before the end of the service usually set me off. Deeper depths and lower lows are good things.
The beauty is that I don't think this would change in the least if I was suddenly assured that my mortality was no more in danger than anyone else. It's not a function of my potential "short-timerness". The equation has irrevocably changed. It is clear why that should be the case for me with everyone I know or meet. My change is universal in that sense. So, although I feel that intimacy from others, I can't say whether this intensity is rippling out into other exchanges. (As I wish it would.) Their experience might be more local – i.e., just with me.
On the other side of the coin, possibly the single saddest outcome of my diagnosis – other than the more real possibility that I might not be around to grow up with my babies – is the relationships that have not changed very much. The disappointment for me comes from wanting something more from important relationships in my life, appreciating that import in a new way, yet having that potential unrealized. As I've said before, there is no good reason why we shouldn't listen, love, trust and share more.
I do not suddenly expect to interact with everyone I meet with the gravity of a final exchange. But I do believe that we make false choices ourselves, apply outdated models that we've carried with us since childhood, and misinterpret the intentions of others regularly. All in the service of a perspective we refuse to relinquish. It's our safe place. I've had little choice myself but to let go of many of my safe places.
None of it has been coincidental for me. Letting go has been my blessing from God. Please join me in the laughter and the tears.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Prisons in our Life
I have been troubled by the specter of prisons lately on three fronts in particular. I have been struggling with the effects on families of incarcerating undocumented immigrant parents. I have long been distressed by the prison industry that we have implicitly embraced in this country in the past 25-30 years. Finally, and most personally, I am regularly dismayed by the dark prisons that I see us building around ourselves that preclude the intimacy with loved ones that we are meant to share.
Harry and his family are regularly attending members of our Reformed Church of Highland Park. He is an immigrant from Indonesia who has been here since the mid-90s. Harry and his wife made a good faith effort and spent tens of thousands of dollars to gain citizenship since overstaying their tourist visa. (You would think that someone that wanted to right their situation would have an avenue to do so – but that is far from the case.) Unfortunately Harry was picked up at home by immigration agents in mid-January as he was heading off to work. He was locked up at the immigrant detention center located in Elizabeth, NJ for nearly three months. One day he is a loving husband and dad providing as best he can for his family. The next day he is a jailed criminal who can only see a loved one for one hour a day through a plexiglass window. During that time, I was among the members of our congregation that visited Harry every night. It was an incredibly emotional time for all of us. I personally felt an extra kinship with Harry – as a father, and more as a person whose time was seemingly suddenly limited.
This particular story ended well – with a true Easter miracle. Harry was ultimately released through the intervention of our amazing Pastor. Virtually none of the other dads are so fortunate. The congregation has continued to visit weekly with detainees at the facility in Elizabeth and started visiting detainees with a "criminal" record at the Middlesex County Jail. Imagine that you are a decades-long law-abiding, tax-paying member of society one day only to find yourself cut off from your family and in an orange jumpsuit the next. I can - as my own cancer diagnosis was similarly abrupt, inexplicable and life-changing. It'll certainly put your own challenges into perspective. As will hearing an 11-year-old girl tell about her father's detention and ultimate deportation and what that means to her and her family – as I did earlier this week.
My intent here is not to justify the actions of undocumented immigrants or to rail against prisons, though I believe that we ought to consider the wisdom and motives of our nation's policies. For some perspective I turn to Wikipedia – "The United States has the highest documented incarceration rate, and total documented prison population in the world. As of year-end 2007, a record 7.2 million people were behind bars, on probation or on parole. Of the total, 2.3 million were incarcerated. More than 1 in 100 American adults were incarcerated at the start of 2008. The People's Republic of China ranks second with 1.5 million, while having four times the population." How does that square with the Judeo-Christian nation that we claim to be? Are we to believe that Americans are the most immoral people on Earth, or the most deserving of punishment? Or might money be at the root of this evil too?
Our religion teaches us that we all make mistakes - that we are all broken and in need of forgiveness. Some of you may be ready to whip out the "eye for an eye" reference, but that is certainly not the basis of the totality of Jesus' teachings. It would be tough to argue that this is the kind of society that Jesus encourages us to pursue. We talk about family values but put our resources towards retribution to the near exclusion of all else. Where are the family values in breaking up families for paperwork violations? If we applied the "what would Jesus do…?" litmus test, it wouldn't be this. I have another suggestion. Since we apparently have such a poor appreciation of what Jesus would do in a given situation, I'd like to suggest criteria that we can all relate to more readily. What if, instead, we consistently considered "what is the best course of action for our children?" Would we leave families fatherless, would we have sick kids without health insurance, would we offer them unhealthy foods in schools and on every corner, would we drop bombs on their homes in far-off lands?
Maybe it is easy for us to build the brick and mortar prisons to put others in because we are so adept at raising the emotional and psychological walls that protect us from well-meaning others. I know of at least four couples that have recently chosen, in effect, to end long relationships/marriages rather than challenge themselves as individuals and address their personal issues. As if it will magically be better the next time around with someone else. I see in my own family circle how grudges, resentments and ancient anger has kept sisters apart for years; how the need for self-preserving insulation places an obscure emotional moat between brothers; and how the inability of a mother to admit the truth about the past keeps her from her adult daughters. We all know of too many similar instances. There are countless reasons why we aren't closer to the ones we love and who love us. None of them are good enough. Yet, we do it to ourselves - by choice.
The greatest shame is that God gives us the choice every day to make it right. We are all broken with the opportunity to mend by his grace. In each instance, there is a better road – one paved with compassion. Let's step up and out of our dark prisons and into God's light. If not for ourselves, then for all the Harrys and our children.
Harry and his family are regularly attending members of our Reformed Church of Highland Park. He is an immigrant from Indonesia who has been here since the mid-90s. Harry and his wife made a good faith effort and spent tens of thousands of dollars to gain citizenship since overstaying their tourist visa. (You would think that someone that wanted to right their situation would have an avenue to do so – but that is far from the case.) Unfortunately Harry was picked up at home by immigration agents in mid-January as he was heading off to work. He was locked up at the immigrant detention center located in Elizabeth, NJ for nearly three months. One day he is a loving husband and dad providing as best he can for his family. The next day he is a jailed criminal who can only see a loved one for one hour a day through a plexiglass window. During that time, I was among the members of our congregation that visited Harry every night. It was an incredibly emotional time for all of us. I personally felt an extra kinship with Harry – as a father, and more as a person whose time was seemingly suddenly limited.
This particular story ended well – with a true Easter miracle. Harry was ultimately released through the intervention of our amazing Pastor. Virtually none of the other dads are so fortunate. The congregation has continued to visit weekly with detainees at the facility in Elizabeth and started visiting detainees with a "criminal" record at the Middlesex County Jail. Imagine that you are a decades-long law-abiding, tax-paying member of society one day only to find yourself cut off from your family and in an orange jumpsuit the next. I can - as my own cancer diagnosis was similarly abrupt, inexplicable and life-changing. It'll certainly put your own challenges into perspective. As will hearing an 11-year-old girl tell about her father's detention and ultimate deportation and what that means to her and her family – as I did earlier this week.
My intent here is not to justify the actions of undocumented immigrants or to rail against prisons, though I believe that we ought to consider the wisdom and motives of our nation's policies. For some perspective I turn to Wikipedia – "The United States has the highest documented incarceration rate, and total documented prison population in the world. As of year-end 2007, a record 7.2 million people were behind bars, on probation or on parole. Of the total, 2.3 million were incarcerated. More than 1 in 100 American adults were incarcerated at the start of 2008. The People's Republic of China ranks second with 1.5 million, while having four times the population." How does that square with the Judeo-Christian nation that we claim to be? Are we to believe that Americans are the most immoral people on Earth, or the most deserving of punishment? Or might money be at the root of this evil too?
Our religion teaches us that we all make mistakes - that we are all broken and in need of forgiveness. Some of you may be ready to whip out the "eye for an eye" reference, but that is certainly not the basis of the totality of Jesus' teachings. It would be tough to argue that this is the kind of society that Jesus encourages us to pursue. We talk about family values but put our resources towards retribution to the near exclusion of all else. Where are the family values in breaking up families for paperwork violations? If we applied the "what would Jesus do…?" litmus test, it wouldn't be this. I have another suggestion. Since we apparently have such a poor appreciation of what Jesus would do in a given situation, I'd like to suggest criteria that we can all relate to more readily. What if, instead, we consistently considered "what is the best course of action for our children?" Would we leave families fatherless, would we have sick kids without health insurance, would we offer them unhealthy foods in schools and on every corner, would we drop bombs on their homes in far-off lands?
Maybe it is easy for us to build the brick and mortar prisons to put others in because we are so adept at raising the emotional and psychological walls that protect us from well-meaning others. I know of at least four couples that have recently chosen, in effect, to end long relationships/marriages rather than challenge themselves as individuals and address their personal issues. As if it will magically be better the next time around with someone else. I see in my own family circle how grudges, resentments and ancient anger has kept sisters apart for years; how the need for self-preserving insulation places an obscure emotional moat between brothers; and how the inability of a mother to admit the truth about the past keeps her from her adult daughters. We all know of too many similar instances. There are countless reasons why we aren't closer to the ones we love and who love us. None of them are good enough. Yet, we do it to ourselves - by choice.
The greatest shame is that God gives us the choice every day to make it right. We are all broken with the opportunity to mend by his grace. In each instance, there is a better road – one paved with compassion. Let's step up and out of our dark prisons and into God's light. If not for ourselves, then for all the Harrys and our children.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Make Love
Over the past 8-9 months, I have come to believe even more strongly that our primary purpose here on this Earth is to make love. I mean the words literally – not figuratively as they are typically used together.
Towards that person who, by virtue of our misunderstanding them, we come to dislike – make love.
For that family member who committed that seemingly unforgivable offense – make love.
Between us and the different-than-us other in our lives – make love.
Towards that neighbor or stranger whose lifestyle or views you find so disagreeable – make love.
The name of the game is the same since those lusty teenage years, only the players and desired outcomes have changed. In effect, we deliberately misunderstood what making love means. The colloquial meaning is much easier than the challenge that God lays out for us. Yes…I believe that God intends for us to make love in this world. What if we could each take every opportunity every day to make more love? The potential is available to all of us. I don't pretend to be there. Unfortunately, even life-threatening illnesses don't bring with them that kind of open heart instantly.
A Church friend asked me how my perspectives have changed as a result of my cancer. Without a doubt, the renewed primacy of relationships in my life is one great tangible benefit. I have always valued my friendships and regularly see friends I've had from third grade on. Those friends from my neighborhood, high school and college have remained an important part of my life - only more so. I am inclined to bridge the distance that exists in all of my contacts. Strangers…I now want to meet. Acquaintances are potential friends. I am no longer content to experience my longtime friends on a static level but am compelled to deepen that bond. I only wish that everyone felt the same.
When it comes to making love, all that limits us is our own issues and hang-ups. Some of us withhold it. Others wait for it to be earned. Still others, sadly, don't know how to do it. Realizing this, some turn to a therapist for help. For others, it is religion and God's call that allows them to open up their hearts. Ultimately, that is the goal of each. Most unfortunately – sometimes it is our steadfast clinging to various distractions and excuses that allows us to resist the help so readily available.
Often fear keeps us from connecting with those around us. We keep our vulnerabilities to ourselves rather than appear weak or different from those seemingly strong and together folks around us. Interestingly (but not surprisingly), I have found the opposite to be true - that sharing my cancer challenges has helped me to bond with others (i.e., so many of you). Why would that be?
God allows us to admit that we are fragile and broken. Consider that his "rules" – from the Golden Rule on – are primarily intended to regulate how we relate to each other. Incidentally, that is one of the chief benefits of religion in our lives. It is not predominantly about the adherence to a particular dogma or even the faith in a set of unknowns. Religion is, rather, the opportunity for community and positive change consistent with shared beliefs. If it ain't about the people, then it isn't very good religion in my book.
So get out there, leave your fears and shackles behind – connect deeply with all those you meet and make love in this world. Lord knows we need it.
Towards that person who, by virtue of our misunderstanding them, we come to dislike – make love.
For that family member who committed that seemingly unforgivable offense – make love.
Between us and the different-than-us other in our lives – make love.
Towards that neighbor or stranger whose lifestyle or views you find so disagreeable – make love.
The name of the game is the same since those lusty teenage years, only the players and desired outcomes have changed. In effect, we deliberately misunderstood what making love means. The colloquial meaning is much easier than the challenge that God lays out for us. Yes…I believe that God intends for us to make love in this world. What if we could each take every opportunity every day to make more love? The potential is available to all of us. I don't pretend to be there. Unfortunately, even life-threatening illnesses don't bring with them that kind of open heart instantly.
A Church friend asked me how my perspectives have changed as a result of my cancer. Without a doubt, the renewed primacy of relationships in my life is one great tangible benefit. I have always valued my friendships and regularly see friends I've had from third grade on. Those friends from my neighborhood, high school and college have remained an important part of my life - only more so. I am inclined to bridge the distance that exists in all of my contacts. Strangers…I now want to meet. Acquaintances are potential friends. I am no longer content to experience my longtime friends on a static level but am compelled to deepen that bond. I only wish that everyone felt the same.
When it comes to making love, all that limits us is our own issues and hang-ups. Some of us withhold it. Others wait for it to be earned. Still others, sadly, don't know how to do it. Realizing this, some turn to a therapist for help. For others, it is religion and God's call that allows them to open up their hearts. Ultimately, that is the goal of each. Most unfortunately – sometimes it is our steadfast clinging to various distractions and excuses that allows us to resist the help so readily available.
Often fear keeps us from connecting with those around us. We keep our vulnerabilities to ourselves rather than appear weak or different from those seemingly strong and together folks around us. Interestingly (but not surprisingly), I have found the opposite to be true - that sharing my cancer challenges has helped me to bond with others (i.e., so many of you). Why would that be?
God allows us to admit that we are fragile and broken. Consider that his "rules" – from the Golden Rule on – are primarily intended to regulate how we relate to each other. Incidentally, that is one of the chief benefits of religion in our lives. It is not predominantly about the adherence to a particular dogma or even the faith in a set of unknowns. Religion is, rather, the opportunity for community and positive change consistent with shared beliefs. If it ain't about the people, then it isn't very good religion in my book.
So get out there, leave your fears and shackles behind – connect deeply with all those you meet and make love in this world. Lord knows we need it.
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