LEFT BEHIND

He is now famous.  Known only as JR, this man has traveled the world taking pictures of people who are invisible to the dominate culture.  He began photographing immigrants and minority residences in a suburban town of Paris. He then enlarged the photos and put them on the sides of dilapidated buildings they inhabited. When riots broke out the following year, the world came to see and discovered his work. Now his work is in 140 countries and he has created a collage of selfies that have been sent to him and it covers the floor of the nave in Pantheon in Paris.

Aside from the pop-up art that he inspired around the world, what fascinated me in the article in the June 23, 2014 issue of Time Magazine was how JR got started. He had been a graffiti artist.  But, one day he found a camera on the Metro that someone had left behind. That discovery changed his life. Something lost by someone else became a door for a life of celebrity and art. 

I guess we never know what impact we have.  Things that we may have outgrown or left behind may become something that changes the life of another person. We often think that the way to make it in this world is to have a dream or vision and then work hard to fulfill that vision.  And certainly there is evidence that such action can result in achieving our goals.

But, don’t under estimate the power of surprise. We never know what our actions might produce.  What we leave behind in our life, the love or compassion, the kindness or tender touch, might just be the gift that opens the door for someone else to discover their future. I doubt that the person who left behind the camera on the Metro on Paris even realizes what an impact he has had on the world of art.

MIND BREEZE

He was standing beside the trail.  Fifteen feet away, on a long leash, the little white poodle stood and stared.  I hiked by—greeting the old man and acknowledging the dog. Not moving, the dog just stared.  The man spoke, “Her get up and go has got up and went.” 

And for a moment, I felt, like a gentle breeze,the spirit of my Daddy.  He used to say, “My get up and go has got up and went.”  And then, In the brief passing, the aroma of my Daddy infiltrated my body. 

Father’s day comes around every year.  Someone said that we need to acknowledge our fathers.  And so we have a ritualized time to think, to thank, to talk about those men who might have blessed our lives.  We remember their all to human qualities through which we might have glimpsed divine love. 

But, I think I prefer my Dad moments like I had on the trail—breezes of memory that tousle my hair and tickle the senses. They sneak up on me like the smell of the old Model T exhaust that puts me back on the wooden knee of my Granddad who took me and my sibs over to the gas station in southern Oklahoma and gave us a penny to put in the gum-ball machine where two or three trinkets were dispenses with each piece of gum.  

They bring tears to my eyes as I smell the aroma of machine oil that impregnated the overalls as I ran to hug “Daddy-Buggin” as he came home from the machine shop where he worked to provide a living for his wife and five children. 

Or, the scrub of a man’s beard on my cheek and I am right back in my Daddy’s lap being rubbed by his Saturday unshaved chin.  Oh, how I long to tell him how much those times meant to me. 

These are the moments of memory I love.  They surprise me, reminding me of the presence that is so deeply woven into my soul that it takes an unguarded word, smell or touch to open my mind and heart to the gifts that have blessed me. This way, father’s day comes here and there, now and then, more like the reality of deep love than in just on a calendar date once a year.

THE LONG VIEW

“It helps, now and then, to step back and take a long view.” These words have been attributed to Archbishop Oscar Romero who was shot and killed while saying Mass in San Salvador in 1980.  It is be beginning of a prayer in which we are reminded that life is greater than ourselves and that we are merely seed planters in the grand scheme of things.

I find this a helpful thought not only to keep a perspective on what I am able to do with my life, but also what might shape my response to the current activities of my life. Sometimes I get so wrapped up in my feelings about the present that I lose perspective on what I want my life to represent.  Sometimes I allow the feelings of the moment to control my response to a challenging situation. 

When I take a step back and look at the long view, the emotions of the present may not be as important as they feel. When I think about my family and friends, I alway try to not only respond to the moment but to imagine how my response will impact the long term relationship. Of course, we never know that the long term will be, but being human we can’t avoid paying attention to it.

And, I think this long view comes from my being formed by the religious community of which I am a part.  All my life, I have been reminded week after week that God has a vision of what the world would be like when it lives according to divine insight.  I have been challenged and invited to live into that vision of a world where peace and love are a reality for all.  I have been directed to consider what others are going through as I consider my actions.  

So, I pray with the Archbishop, “It helps, now and then, to step back and take the long view.”

LAUGHING

They are six and nine. Riding in the back seat of my car on the way to hike at the park, these two “all boys” decided to try to meditate.  I heard them say to each other, “Now, close your eyes and clear your minds.”  It got quiet.  But in a few seconds, they burst out laughing.  Again, “Close your eyes and clear your minds.”  Again, silence—then uproarious laughter. 

I thought, “This is the way to do it.”  When I meditate, I too have trouble quieting my mind for any length of time.  I too lose concentration. But, my response is not so much laughter as condemnation.  I think, “What’s wrong with me?”  “Why can’t I do this?”  I often get critical of myself and wonder if I can do anything right. 

And then I think of what one of the saints of the past said about life: “The purpose of life is to love God and enjoy God forever.”

And I think, “If I am to enjoy God, why not break out in laughter?” What is it about religion in general and prayer in particular that has to be so serious?  What if God desires our delight, not just our service?  What if love has as much to do with laughter and delight as it does with commitment and faithfulness? What if loving has as much to do with joy as it does getting things right? 

So, I resolve, “Laugh” instead of “judge.”  Laugh when I lose concentration rather than judge myself as inadequate. After all, I suspect God is laughing at how seriously I am taking myself.  And if God is laughing, maybe I can laugh with and in that same spirit.

TWO STORIES

Sitting in the stillness of a rainy morning, Deb and I were reading. She read a story of the conflict in in our country between Democrats, Republicans and the Tea Party.  The paper seemed to suggest the Tea Party wanted to turn over the whole establishment where as the Democrats and Republicans wanted to govern. 

Across the coffee table, I was reading about the devastation of the civil war in Syria.  Images of a city virtually destroyed stared out at me. 160,000 people have died in this protracted war. (In the midst of a statistical culture, I have to remind myself that each 1 represents a soul, a heart-beat, a loved one.) 

As we sat in our dry little bungalow, I had a deep sense of gratitude for our ancestors in this country who had the wisdom to design a governing process which allowed freedom of speech. While I often weary of the speech that I sometimes hear (when I find it hard to comprehend how people could actually believe such things), I think it really is better to allow the anger and frustration to be expressed verbally than with guns and bombs. 

 And sometimes I get tired of all the propaganda that is spread by media biased in multiple directions, I can’t help but think the right to express ourselves is far better than to restrict speech and drive it deep underground. For long buried anger and frustration can explode in destructive  violence. It seems better to allow the steam to escape from the pressure cooker than to allow it to build up and explode. 

So, I swallow hard as I read and listen. And I express my own frustration and prejudice, grateful that I can wrestle with those with whom I disagree in a verbal battle rather than pulling out weapons of destruction that spread mayhem and death far beyond the bounds of the initial controversy.