Gifts: Modeling Our Faith with Our Actions

I have long been a lover of technology and gadgets. From my first transistor radio in the sixties, to my first CD player (the first CD player ever made) in the eighties, to my first iPod around 2001, I have particularly loved those gadgets that make it easier to enjoy music.

A few years ago I made another leap forward in music gadgetry as I transitioned to a Sonos wireless music system.

The transition was different than ones I had made in the past. I think this was because of my age. My decision process was more deliberate, less impulsive. Yes, I was still an early adopter, but this time around, it took much longer (weeks rather than minutes) to research the product and to understand how it was functionally different from anything I had used in the past.

Although the system is easy to operate, once I started using Sonos, it took me a while to explore and appreciate its features. A longer, slower learning curve seems to come with age.

The system allows me to listen to music wirelessly all over the house, it can be music stored on my computer, a Pandora channel, music from my Spotify account or almost any radio station in the world that streams on the internet. It can all be controlled from my computer, from my phone or an iPad.

A year ago, when my wife and I moved into a house with our daughter and her three children, The music system was moved in and set up before much of the furniture.

A few months ago, the kids started using the system. I have mixed feelings about it. Although I am happy they are exploring music, I find it difficult to adjust to the tastes of children ages 5,6 and 8. (Their musical tastes currently run to song parodies featuring characters from the online game Minecraft )

Here’s the thing. For all the time it took me to learn how to fully use and appreciate the system, it took them almost none. I have never once showed them how to use the system or any of its features. By observing me over time, they have figured out which icon brings up the controls, they have figured out the difference between Pandora and Spotify, they know how to search for songs and control the volume from room to room.  They have yet to learn what constitutes good music or what appropriate listening volume means, but they are off to a good start.

It seems to me that there are two factors at work here. One is the fact that children seem to have little trouble adapting to technology; the other is that children learn a lot by observing the behavior of the adults in their lives.

This point was driven home the other night when I was helping my oldest grandson with his homework. He had a worksheet on the Gifts and Fruits of the Holy Spirit. One portion of the worksheet contained a list of attributes that aligned with the Gifts of the Holy Spirit. He was to list people in his life that exemplified those attributes.

When we got to patience, I asked him who he knew that exemplified patience. He looked at me and said “Well, certainly not you! You’re about the least patient person I know!”. “Ouch!”  I thought, “That’s not good.” “Well, Who in the family sets a good example for patience?”  “Nobody!” he replied.

After some discussion, he finally decided that his Cub Scout Den Mother was extremely patient, and added her to the list.

It seems to me that children learn about faith in much the same way they learn about technology. You can explain things, you can talk about them, but  children really learn from what you do.

I don’t need to lecture my grandchildren on the joys of music because they observe the value I place on it. They were then able to use my behavior as a model to begin selecting and playing music for themselves.

What I do about my faith is more important than what I have to say about it. Seemingly little things like saying grace before meals, attending mass, and having religious images around the house are important because they demonstrate the value our family places on faith.  Of course that’s not nearly enough.

As my conversation with my grandson demonstrated, my attitudes and behavior speak volumes about how I live my faith. No amount of lecturing on patience and kindness will resonate with him if it’s coming from a grouchy old man. It took an eight year old to teach me that I need to be more open to the gifts of the Holy Spirit and cultivate their fruits.

I can only hope that when they grow up, they will remember me more for what they learned about faith than for what they learned about technology!

Copyright 2013 Kirk Whitney

I know I’m going to buy a shirt. The question is what kind.  Long sleeve? Of course. White? I doubt it. Spread collar or button down? I’m thinking Oxford button down. Solid color or pattern? Solid of course. Material? Cotton for sure; it’s been a while since I’ve had a decent Chambray shirt, so that would be a real contender. I could come home empty handed if I can’t find something I really like at a good price.

Is it silly to put that much thought into buying a shirt? It is. But I think hard before I buy a shirt because it will be one of ten long sleeve shirts I allow myself to own. If I buy a shirt this weekend, one will have to go to Catholic Charities when I get home. If I buy two, two will have to go.

When a shirt is part of a small collection, it has to pull its weight. It has to go with most of my pants (yes, I have ten pairs). If they don’t look ok with jeans, I have wasted my time and money. Because I have to feel comfortable wearing the shirt on a regular basis, nothing hip, novel or trendy will make the cut.

This all started a couple of years ago, when I was trying to organize my closet from the ground up. I had invested in some new shelves and rods and splurged on a bunch of wooden hangers. (Only Costco can make you think you need 40 wood hangers as an impulse purchase).

That started to change the way I viewed my wardrobe (If you can really call it that). My first dilemma was that I suddenly had to make a judgment about what articles of clothing deserved a wood hanger and which would be relegated to wire and plastic. (No, I was not going back to Costco for more hangers!)

A second factor in the decision to prune my wardrobe was my decision to retire about the same time. I still had months to go, but once I made the decision, I no longer felt the need to hang on to all of the sports coats, ties and dress slacks I had accumulated in my years as a middle manager. (Lower middle, but middle)

I loaded a huge pile of that stuff in my car. On my lunch break the next day; I pulled up to the loading dock behind the Catholic Charities building. I knocked on the receiving door and asked the man who answered if they could use them.  He was happy to take them. He told me that they were always in need of dress clothing that they could provide to clients for job interviews. That encounter changed the way I looked at my closet when I got home.

I still had a closet that was stuffed with clothes that I didn’t wear that often and certainly did not need. I have never been a clotheshorse and no one would ever accuse me of being fashionable. The problem was that I had no clear criteria for buying new clothes and a real reluctance to part with old ones.

My experience at Catholic Charities made me realize that it was silly to keep clothes that I didn’t really use, when someone else could use them. I tried to use a rubric as I scanned each item in the closet. Does it actually fit? Do I like it? Do I ever wear it? That process required way too much thought. It was time to get brutal.

I decided to allow myself to keep two suits, ten pairs of pants, ten long sleeve shirts and ten short sleeve shirts. All the rest would have to go. In the interest of full disclosure, jeans and T-shirts were excluded. There are limits to everything.

This decision inverted the process. I was no longer deciding what to give away, but what to keep. I now had to justify the role each item played in my wardrobe. For example, I was tempted to buy a nice pair of wool blend slacks a few months ago but I rejected the idea because a) they were too expensive and b) unneeded since I have 2 pairs of dress slacks I can poach from my suits if I want to dress up a bit.

I now appreciate my clothes in a way that I did not before. I don’t take for granted how fortunate I am to have clean and comfortable clothing. It is easy to forget how many people do not.

I’m sneaking up on a Lenten reflection here. Lent is not just about fasting and sacrifice. Lent is also a time to be mindful of the many gifts we have been given. The shirt (or two) that I end up buying will not be just another mindless purchase, but one that is truly appreciated.

In truth, limiting my wardrobe comes fairly easily to me. I have no particular interest in fashion. As a boy, I had a school wardrobe that was limited to two pairs of “salt and pepper” corduroy pants, two white short sleeve shirts and one sweater each school year. I could wear a pear of jeans and a white shirt everyday for the rest of my life and be content.

Could I be as frugal in other areas of my life? It might be tough. In the past, I have been a gadget fanatic. If I had to give up half of my tech gadgets, what would I choose to do without? What would go first? My tablet? Laptop? Phone? My Sonos speakers? Somehow there was a life before I had all these things. Can there be a life after they go away?

These are good questions. As I transition from a career to retirement, the much smaller income that comes with it means that as gadgets become outdated, lost or broken, most of them will not be replaced.

Can I replicate the mindfulness and discipline I have applied to my wardrobe to my tech life as well? Sounds like a Lenten meditation for 2014.

PostScript: I made the trip between drafts. I ended up buying a casual long sleeve shirt in green plaid. It will replace my single green dress shirt and be my “go to” shirt for St. Patrick’s Day. After multiple discounts at an outlet store, it was less than ten dollars. Too hard to resist!

Copyright 2013 Kirk Whitney

Table Talk

I have been hooked on Downton Abby for the last couple of years. If you  have not seen it, the series follows an aristocratic family and the servants of their manor as they weather the social upheaval of early twentieth century England.

( It’s not nearly as dull as it sounds) You could follow the plot pretty well if you watched only the scenes that depict meals.

Lord and Lady Grantham measure their fortune by their ability (or inability) to stage a formal dinner. Troubling developments from the outside world are usually served up at their breakfast table, either in a newspaper, letter or telegram served on a silver platter. Troubling developments within the family most often come to light at the dinner table. Meanwhile, downstairs, almost all of the drama, conflict and intrigue among the servants occur around their communal table.

Their preoccupation with meals and table manners may seem silly until  we turn to twenty first century England. Author Theodore Daylrimple, laments that fewer than fifty percent of British households even have a dining table. In an interview with Front Page Magazine, He goes on to discuss the impact this has on individuals, families and society;

“This means that they never learn that eating is a social activity (many of the prisoners in the prison in which I worked had never in their entire lives eaten at a table with another person); they never learn to discipline their conduct; they never learn that the state of their appetite at any given moment should not be the sole consideration in deciding whether to eat or not. In other words, one’s own interior state is all-important in deciding when to eat. And this is the model of all their behavior.”

I am not too sure how civilized my own upbringing was. I grew up in the 1950′s and 60′s. One of ten “free range” children, we came and went as we pleased. As much freedom as we had, none of us ever dreamed of being late to the dinner table.

Years later, as we raised our own children, preparing dinner and eating together was a daily habit. It would not have occurred to us to do otherwise. One evening, a friend of our then teen-age daughter joined us for dinner. After observing us cook, set the table and finally sit down to eat, she remarked,  “You guys do this every night?” During those years that we had a constant stream of teenagers in and out of our home, more than a few comments were made about the novelty of home cooking, baking and family dinners at the table.

Two years ago, when I became involved in the day-to-day care of my grandchildren, I noticed that at ages 2, 3 and 6 that they were already at risk of the phenomenon that Daylrimple describes. With parents working different schedules, the family was seldom together at dinnertime. Meals were unstructured and seldom featured children and adults eating together.

I could not articulate it at the time, but I knew this was a problem. Thus we began forming the habit of nightly dinner at the table, children, mom and grandparents all together. Sound idyllic? I can assure you, it was not.

I was still months away from retirement when the campaign started, so it meant rushing home (or to my daughter’s home) after work, preparing dinner and getting food and children to the table about the time their mother got home from work.

For someone who had grown accustomed to eating his meals in peace and quiet, maintaining my composure and sometimes my will to live at dinnertime took some effort.

Our grandchildren eventually embraced the rhythm of gathering nightly at the dinner table. The “ten minute warning”, the assembly, the saying of grace, the negotiation about how much of what must be eaten before being excused are now part of their routine.

There are still challenges. We still have to remind them that not all subjects are suitable for dinner conversation and I am still struggling to accept the idea that someone’s glass will be knocked over at almost every meal.

In recent weeks, our parish study group has been reading the Gospel of John. One of the first things that struck me about the Gospel is the prominent role that meals play in John’s narrative. This account of Jesus’ public life begins and ends with a meal.

In chapter two, Jesus provides the wine for the wedding banquet at Cana as his first public act. Jesus provides fish to his apostles, and then joins them for a meal on shore in the final chapter.

Of course, the big point being made in the Gospel is that we are being invited to Christ’s Sacred Banquet, but I think that John means for us to take in smaller lessons as well. I think that we are also being reminded that every meal provides an opportunity to come closer to God and to each other.

A properly observed meal involves gathering and preparing food, coming together, reflecting on the fact that this and every meal we eat is a blessing from God, not to be taken for granted. We should then take time to enjoy the meal as well as the company of those who have come to the table.

Theodore Daylrimple suggests that gathering together for daily meals is important to our social well-being. John suggests it is spiritually important as well.

Copyright 2013 Kirk Whitney

Resolve

I felt like a bit of a failure just after Christmas. Too fat, out of shape, tired and old. Last year, as usual, I had resolved to eat better, drink less, exercise more and lose weight. To be sure there were some wins among the losses, but the bottom line is that I am just as heavy and only slightly more fit than I was a year ago.

This year, I once again started listing potential resolutions the day after Christmas. I’ll walk five miles a day, I’ll fast once a week, I’ll drink vegetable juice every day, I’ll go to the gym three times a week, I’ll drop twenty pounds. Those are all good and reasonable resolutions, but it occurred to me that they all shared the same drawback. They were all bad resolutions because I won’t keep them.

They are poorly coordinated tasks that distract me from the real goal. I just want to be a better person. Of course, weighing less, being fit, being more organized are “better” that what I am now, but I now realize that this disjointed laundry list of resolutions is just part of the same broken behavior that got me here in the first place.

When we look at individual aspects of ourselves, it is easy to be disappointed. If you measure you self against a set of ideals like body weight, muscle mass, personal goals, professional goals etc, we are unlikely to measure up. When we do succeed, it is sometimes less than satisfying.

So this year, I have decided that I need only one, holistic resolution to focus on. To become a better person.

Does that sound vague? On the surface it would seem so, but over the past few years, I have come to realize that there is only one way for me to become a better person. That is to strengthen my relationship with God.

Sure, I still want to drop twenty pounds, I still want to regain some of the upper body strength I have lost as I have gotten older, I still have some creative goals to tackle. The difference is that I now understand that those kinds of self improvement are secondary to improving the practice of my faith.

Looking at self improvement at the philosophical level, it makes sense to use spiritual discernment to help guide my decision making about diet, exercise, work and leisure. How do individual choices measure against my desire to serve God’s will?  How well to I use each day to honor the gift of life that I have been given? These are day by day measures that can take me well beyond any individual goal I can set for myself. ( And take my life in directions I had never anticipated)

When I look back on 2012, I can honestly say that the areas where I have made the most progress in personal growth are those that have been my focus in the sacrament of reconciliation. In the last couple of years, as I have taken the sacrament more seriously, I find that the cycle of examination of conscience, confession and penance helps me improve personally as much as spiritually. (You may be thinking “well, duh!”, but it’s  taken me a few decades to catch on.) More frequent confession has really helped me improve my day to day decision making.

Don’t worry. I won’t try to turn my confessor into a life coach. I won’t start to view my parish church as a day spa. I will simply resolve in 2013 to act upon the realization that my prayer life and my “real” life are the same thing.

I will resolve in 2013 to focus on being the person God wants me to be, and trust that I will continue to make better life choices as a result.

Copyright 2012 Kirk Whitney

It’s Still a Wonderful Life

Advent is just around the corner. This year, I will make time to watch It’s a Wonderful Life yet again.

Some folks dismiss the film as corny and sentimental. I have never seen it that way.

When I first saw It’s a Wonderful Life forty-two years ago, it was not that well known. I happened upon it while surfing the three channels we had back then one December afternoon. I was struck by the film’s dark tone and the deep melancholy of George Bailey, the main character.

It’s a Wonderful Life became a staple Christmas offering for local television stations in the 1970’s and 1980’s. Since 1994 it has been shown every Christmas Eve on NBC.

Although God and Saint Peter figure in the plot, the movie is not overtly religious. It takes a rather bland, “offend no one”, approach to faith. God is more of a fairy tale figure and ironically (for a Christmas movie), Christ is not even mentioned. Even as a teenager, I was bothered by the fact that they confused angels and saints. Clarence, George Bailey’s guardian angel, used to be human? What was that all about?

Faulty theology aside, the movie has some elements that should resonate with the Catholic viewer. Here are themes in It’s a Wonderful Life that stand out if viewed through a Catholic lens.

The value of life.  This theme plays out on two levels. The plot centers on the value of George Bailey’s life as an individual. He is allowed to see how the lives around him would have been affected if he had never been born. Thus he learns the value and purpose of his own life.

The film also serves as a good illustration of the openness to children in marriage. George’s family grows throughout the course of the film. Although George seems overwhelmed by his responsibilities as a father, it is also clear that he is open to his wife’s desire to have a large home filled with children.

Parent and child relationships drive the story. George Bailey began to set aside his personal goals to honor his father’s wishes and take over the family business. The arrival of his own children kept him anchored in his work and in his community. As he is transported from his own life to an alternate world where he had never been born, it is a cluster of rose petals belonging to his daughter Zuzu (again, obviously not a Catholic family!) that serve as a sign that he has returned to his real life.

Social justice and stewardship. George hates the “dusty old building and loan” and feels trapped because he knows he’s the only one that can keep it going. Like George’s antagonist, Henry Potter, Bailey is a capitalist. Unlike Potter, he sees that the just management of capital has a profound impact on the community. His poor and working class customers are able to earn a modest return on their savings, and have access to affordable home loans. Potter, owner of the commercial bank considers the poor a bad credit risk and would prefer that they rent housing from him.

When Potter dismissed the workers and small merchants of Bedford Falls as “discontented rabble”, George Bailey defends them and his family’s approach to business;

“Just remember this, Mr. Potter, that this rabble you’re talking about…they do most of the working and paying and living and dying in this community. Well, is it too much to have them work and pay and live and die in a couple of decent rooms and a bath? Anyway, my father didn’t think so. People were human beings to him, but to you, a warped frustrated old man, they’re cattle. Well, in my book he died a much richer man than you’ll ever be!”

Discernment. It’s a wonderful life, but George had no idea it was until the last reel. In most of the film, God is pointing him in one direction, while he looks in another. Even when God directly intervenes in his life, he is maddeningly slow to catch on to what is happening. He is God’s gift to his town and his family. They are God’s gifts to him, yet he spends most of his life yearning to be somewhere else. He spends most of his time ignoring clues that the life he was living was the one he was meant to live.

Prayer and the communion of saints.  The story develops and the plot crisis occurs as the result of human actions but it is prayer that provides the resolution. It is the intercession of angels, the prayers of his family and friends and finally, George’s willingness to get down on his knees and pray for himself that saves his life and presumably his soul.

Hollywood theology comes into play once again in the final scene as we are told “Every time you hear a bell ring, an angel gets his wings” It makes for a cute Hollywood ending, but we know better, don’t we?

Copyright 2012 Kirk Whitney

Arguing with God

“Do you know who the biggest jerk in the Bible was?” This question was posed by a character in Martin Cruz Smith’s novel, “Wolves Eat Dogs”. Actually, I’m paraphrasing a bit. Jerk is more civil a term than the one used in the book.

The lead character, Detective Akaday Renko, is stumped when asked this question by Yakov and Bobby, both Orthodox Jews . (That’s a hint to think in terms of the Old Testament.)

It’s a tough question. After all, the Bible is filled with unpleasant and unsavory characters. There’s a lot of competition for biggest jerk status.

In their opinion, the biggest jerk in the Bible, believe it or not, was Noah.

“Why Noah?” Arkady asked. This was a new indictment.

“He didn’t argue.”

“Noah should have argued?”

Yakov explained, “Abraham argues with God not to kill everyone in Sodom and Gomorrah. Moses pleads with God not to kill worshippers of the golden calf. But God tells Noah to build a boat because He’s going to flood the entire world, and what does Noah say? Not a word.”

“Not a word,” said Bobby, “and saves the minimum. What a #@*%$.”

                                                                                          – Martin Cruz Smith, Wolves Eat Dogs

I think they are being a bit hard on Noah. I have to imagine that if God chose to speak directly to me, I would be pretty compliant. Who am I to question the plan that God lays out for me?

What are we to take away from the stories of Abraham and Moses? I have to think that God pushed them to the point of questioning and challenging his plan. After all, they were both chosen to play an important role in God’s long term plan. He definitely challenged their way of thinking about society, righteousness and faith.

Perhaps the lesson is that since we are part of God’s creation, we are also part of God’s plan. When we ask ourselves how can God can allow this or that (suffering, war, poverty…you pick), perhaps we should ask ourselves what we have done to combat the world’s ills.

Both Moses and Abraham, after successfully arguing with God, took on the responsibility to implement God’s plan for a faithful and righteous nation.  Abraham was later asked to sacrifice his own son. Moses experienced no end of frustration trying to maintain the covenant between God and the people he spared. (He may have been the first person to utter the phrase, “Why don’t you just kill me now!”)

So…is there something about your life or God’s plan for it that doesn’t sit well with you? Go ahead, start an argument with God.

Be careful.  He may let you win.

Copyright 2012 Kirk Whitney

It’s Hard to Be Humble

Last Thursday, the third Luminous Mystery or the Rosary stuck in my mind. I have been thinking about it ever since.

As one example of the Proclamation of the Kingdom, the Mystery cites the words of Christ as found in Mark 10:15 and Luke 18:17. “Truly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it.”   I have heard these words countless times, but as I read them this time, I thought “What does that even mean?”

In context, the words seem simple. The apostles are trying to prevent small children and parents with infants from swarming around Jesus. The apostles are rebuked. Jesus reminds them that children belong to the kingdom of God.

These simple words actually have many meanings. I consulted some of the commentary on this verse and most of what I read suggested that the passage is meant to stress the sanctity of marriage and support the practice of infant baptism. Those may well be the institutional meanings, but I am more concerned with what Jesus was really saying to the apostles and by extension, what was he really saying to me.

To the apostles, he seems to be saying, “You are becoming too focused on me as a teacher, you are becoming too concerned about protecting me from the people I am here to serve” As close as the apostles were to Christ, they still viewed him through the lenses of religion, politics and social custom. The children on the other hand, wanted only to touch him, to experience him in a direct, open way.

It strikes me that I am being asked to do the same. To go beyond looking at Christ through the lens of my faith, my politics, my personal values and approach him with the humility of a child. The Gospels tell us it was difficult for the apostles. It is perhaps as difficult for those of us who live in a time when neither humility nor religiosity are held in high regard. We are all supposed to be too smart, too sophisticated and too rational to even believe in God, let alone humble ourselves to him.

So, back to the Rosary. Until a couple of years ago, I didn’t give the Rosary a lot of thought. Sure, I said it from time to time and participated in funeral Rosaries, but in general, I considered it to be a dry and repetitious exercise. I thought it was a rather unsophisticated approach to prayer. (Not that I was engaging in any sophisticated prayer at the time!)

A year or so ago, I realized I was missing the boat. I took up the Rosary on a daily basis. I started out by just grabbing a Rosary and praying.

The first thing I learned was that I didn’t really know how to pray the Rosary. I only thought I knew.

In the beginning, I was just stringing together a series of Hail Marys and Our Fathers . Only through time did I become more focused on the structure of the Rosary and its mysteries. I began to reflect on them day by day, decade by decade. Over a year later, I am still learning.

In a sense, praying the Rosary is coming to Jesus as a child. I was not logically or intellectually convinced that the Rosary has value. I had to take it on faith and go from there. Now its value is obvious to me. The Rosary allows you to be with God in a very simple and direct way.

Praying the Rosary provides the opportunity to come to Jesus as a child in a second way as well. As a child, how many of us came to our mothers to intercede on our behalf with our fathers? In addition to allowing us to reflect on Christ, it allow us to recognize and benefit from the Holy Mother’s role as a mediator in our relationship with him.

Although I have come late to the Rosary in my long and winding reversion, I know my experience is not unique. Having read and heard a number of conversion and reversion stories over the years, praying the Rosary is often mentioned as a discipline that comes into play late in the process. I think that’s because a certain humility required to say it.  It also requires a certain amount of humility to recognize Mary’s role in our relationship with Christ. It requires a humble heart to approach Mary to intercede on our behalf when we are in need.

For many of us (I know it is for me), It’s hard to be humble.

Copyright 2012 Kirk Whitney

One morning a few weeks ago, I opened the dishwasher and thought, “Why can’t anyone learn how to load the G@# d#@n dishwasher!” Actually, I did not think that, I was reflecting on one of my father’s favorite phrases.

He was a proficient blasphemer and applied this skill to a wide range of topics. Railing about the dishwasher was perhaps his ultimate passion. I could swear that I heard this rant on a weekly basis as a child. Even as an adult, while spending a weekend at my parents house, my wife bolted from the kitchen where she was having tea and asked me in a hushed tone, “What’s with your dad and the dishwasher?”.

Thirty years on, it is starting to make sense to me. As a father of ten disorderly children, he must have thought that surely, he could have order in the six cubic feet of space inside the dishwasher. At least one space in the house could be orderly, logical and tidy. There could be a place where the smudged, greasy and filthy could emerge shiny and spotless.

The funny thing is that he seldom expressed anger or frustration over big things. He seemed to take poverty, poor health, and family crisis in stride, only to become enraged at the smallest of details. When I was in high school, I totaled the one week old family car. His response was calm and more than rational. “These things happen” he said, “At least no one was hurt”. Forty minutes later he flew into a purple rage because some one had left the lid off of the mayonnaise jar.

Now back to me, my dishwasher, my “load rage”. I expressed my displeasure about the state of the dishwasher in a way that was less profane, but every bit as heated. My wife looked at me, shaking her head and said, “Why are you turning into your father all of a sudden?” Good question.

We only have three children. I don’t recall that raising them was all that stressful. But now, after 12 years or so of an empty nest, we have moved into a house with our daughter and our three grandchildren.

It was my idea. After more than a year of shuttling them and ourselves from house to house, I said, “ Enough. Let’s just find a house big enough for the six of us”. Let’s just indeed.

After two months of living in a combined household, I find that most things are easier. Some things are much harder. Time management for example. Case in point; the previous paragraph was written over an eighteen-hour span. Midway through the second sentence, a book was thrust between the laptop screen and my face. “Grandpa, read me a story!” One thing led to another, but not back to writing until the following morning.

It’s sometimes hard dealing with three small children for long periods of time. During the summer, those periods are very long, Often from about 6:30 in the morning straight through until evening. Most days are fine, even pleasant, but some are difficult… very difficult.

A week or so ago was one of those days. It was a seemingly endless day of defiance, sibling arguments, fighting and all around mayhem. By the end of the day, I felt defeated. “How do we keep this up?” “It will be fine if we can just get through summer” I told myself.

The next morning, I decided I needed to go to Mass. I had not been in a few days. Was I going for spiritual reasons? Or was it just an excuse to get out of the house? I’m guessing both. As Mass began, Monsignor reminded us that it was the feast of Saints Anne and Joachim, the grandparents of Jesus. “Hmm… There’s a message here somewhere”, I thought.

Days later, I’ll admit I’m still not sure what that message is. I’m positive St. Joachim never had to put his grandson on time out. So what am I to learn from them? Perhaps I am meant to meditate on the faith that Anne and Joachim showed in the face of frustration. Perhaps the message is to lighten up, even if that means that I have little or no control of the dishwasher.

My five-year-old grandson put it in perspective for me just this afternoon. He was in the midst of some jolly rampage, interfering with the conversation my wife and I were attempting. My exasperation was obvious. He stopped for a second looked at me and said, “Hey, you wanted to live with us!”

I did indeed.

Copyright 2012 Kirk Whitney

Cradle Catholic

“Cradle Catholic”. I never thought about my self in that way until I joined a Bible study group a few years ago. (Actually, I still don’t think of myself that way, I just think of myself as Catholic.) The subject of “cradle” vs convert comes up from time to time in our group discussions. The term, at least as I have heard it used over the years, is slightly self deprecating. Since our study group is comprised of lifelong Catholics, converts to Catholicism, and a few non Catholics, it is often used in reference to how little we know about scripture compared to our converted and Protestant brethren.

There is truth in that observation. My own experience growing up in the Church and attending Catholic schools involved daily lessons in religion. Most of our learning centered on the Catechism. I have to admit, I don’t remember studying the Bible on a regular basis. Many of the lifelong Catholics in our group describe a similar experience.

As part of this group over the past few years, I have developed a greater appreciation for scripture and the role it plays in our faith. I continue to be impressed at the ease with which some of our group members can recall and cite relevant passages by chapter and verse. I sometimes feel self conscious that I am not more knowledgeable about the Bible.

The diversity of our study group makes for lively discussion. As we plough through one book of the Bible at a time, we have the perspective of those who have cultivated their faith through scripture and others who come to it through tradition. There is a wonderful synergy that results.

Those of us who were raised in the faith are, in a sense, attempting to “re-boot” our Catholicism by diving into a scriptural experience that takes us beyond what we will hear in the weekly readings. The converts in our group continue to expand their knowledge of scripture and (I hope) are developing a deeper appreciation of our Church’s tradition.

This dynamic mixture of cradle and converted Catholics brings a sense of energy not just to our group, but to the church as a whole. When I’m trying to get a better grasp of Catholicism, It’s amazing how often I end up turning to a writer who was an adult convert to the faith. G K Chesterton, John Henry Newman, Peter Keeft and Scott Hahn are just a few that come to mind.

So what’s better, living with a faith you were “born” into or one that you came to embrace as an adult? Actually, as a “Cradle Catholic” I think I am called upon to do both. I feel like I am having a conversion experience. One that is taking a lifetime to complete.

The more familiar I become with scripture, the more I appreciate the value of “cradle” Catholicism. Having started with the writings of Paul several years ago, then working through the Acts of the Apostles, Job, Genesis and Exodus among others, it is interesting to note how much scripture concerns itself with the maintenance of ritual and the preservation of faith from generation to generation.

Bible study has helped me see the value of the cradle more clearly. We have scripture, the inspired word of God, handed down generation after generation, but it has been families, baptizing their children and raising them in the faith that have been the vehicle for the survival and growth of the Church itself over the millennia.

Yes, some of us fall away, some of us come back, some of us just go through the motions, but somehow we have managed to bring our tradition and participation in the sacraments along the way over the last 2000 years. In each generation, we are joined by those who convert to the faith. Many of whom foster new generations of “cradle” Catholics.

So, after three years, I am prouder than ever to be a “cradle” Catholic, and more exited than ever to expand my faith through the study of scripture. From now on, when asked if I am a cradle Catholic or a convert, I’ll simply reply “Yes!”

Copyright 2012 Kirk Whitney

My first priority has been to assist in caring for my daughter’s children. I had been attending Mass most mornings and a Bible study group on Tuesday evenings. I later added an hour of exercise about four times weekly, twice weekly meetings with an Aunt to assist with bills and household tasks, yard duty at my grandson’s school on Wednesdays, a book group on Thursday evenings and Cub Scouts every other Monday. While momentum was in my favor, I was also reading a book or two most weeks.

A return to blogging after several years away was the most recent addition to my list of commitments.

I was like the acrobat we used to see on the Ed Sullivan Show. First one, then two and finally five plates spinning on the tops of willowy poles.  Running from pole to pole, all my plates were in full spin.

That is until a couple of unforeseen events occurred.

Just days after returning to work on a part time basis, we came to the conclusion that we needed to move into a larger home that we could share with our daughter and three grandchildren. This meant buying a house, moving out of ours and getting our daughter’s house ready to put on the market. Those two factors added about 30 to 50 hours to my routine.

So what happens when you have a carefully planned, well ordered life that is subjected to sudden change? Some thing has to give. But what?

Rule number one for the acrobat; the plates have to come down intentionally while others are kept in spin. No crashing allowed.

Reading, writing, and exercise were the first to give. Why? Not because they aren’t important, but because they were the things done on “found” time and had the least impact on others. Other things had to give a little to accommodate my new work schedule and juggling two moves and three houses. I missed a number of morning Masses due my busier schedule (Or sometimes I was too tired to get out of the house at 6:30 in the morning).

I missed several meetings of my Thursday night book group because they occurred on moving days.

On some days, new commitments themselves had to give. I missed a couple of days of work to complete the move. (Since I set my own hours, not much of a hardship). Sometimes moving had to give. For example, on the weekend we moved our daughter and grandchildren from their house to our new home, there were a couple of major Cub Scout activities scheduled as well. It was difficult to walk away from the moving, cleaning and unpacking, but it was good to let it go for a few hours. My grandson and I took a wonderful hike in the foothills that Saturday and our whole family enjoyed a picnic with his pack that Sunday. The moved still progressed and we all benefitted from the rest, recreation and fellowship that the events offered.

What didn’t give? Well, the grandkids still needed to get to school and various lessons. School Yard duty couldn’t give because the school depended on having supervision. There were a couple of other things that couldn’t give because of what they give in return.

Tuesday Bible study didn’t give because the group serves as the anchor for our lives as Catholics. Taking ninety minutes each week to read scripture and discuss it serves as an oasis in our busy week. We often walk in exhausted and walk out with a renewed sense of energy.

Another thing that didn’t give was the Rosary. This came as a bit of a surprise to me, since praying the Rosary daily is a habit I acquired only recently and I don’t recall ever making a conscious commitment to do so. With my schedule growing ever more hectic, I found creative ways to work the Rosary into my daily routine. (Even when there was no routine). In addition to using a traditional rosary, I used the Hail Mary iPhone app, I also used  Robert Kochis’ recorded version of the Rosary on my phone, iPod and even on a Spotify play list.

Ideally, I would like to say the Rosary in a quiet time and place, but when time doesn’t permit, I have learned to be creative. I have integrated the Rosary into a cross-town drive, a long walk, I have even done the Rosary while fixing a broken sprinkler.

So what do I get out of saying the Rosary? Even under less than ideal conditions, a daily reflection on the mysteries of the Rosary keeps me connected to the Gospels, reciting the prayers gives me a daily connection to the Church’s tradition. It keeps my focused on my faith.

Studying scripture with others and reciting the Rosary  have helped keep me centered while coping with a whirlwind of change. They have been well worth the time. They are the real answer to the question; What gives?

Copyright 2012 Kirk Whitney

“Keeping a group of twenty first graders on task is daunting” I told her. “Yes, it does feel a bit like herding cats”, she replied. We talked a bit about the challenges of working with young children and the energy required to keep their attention. We were pleased with the progress they made on this complex drill that they must master in the next few weeks.

“You know what the hardest part is?” She said, “It’s dealing with the disappointment”. “They all want to do what they think is most fun or most important, like bearing the flag or reciting the pledge”  No matter how much energy you put into making sure everyone has a turn, there are always one or two cubs who need to be consoled, redirected or have their spirits bolstered.

“Those experiences are important” I told her.  As parents and adult leaders (Akelas in the Cub Scout vernacular) we need to teach them how to deal with the frustration and disappointment that sometimes comes from working as part of a group. Those skills are often more important than the ones we are teaching directly.

Few of the Cub Scouts will conduct flag ceremonies on a regular basis in their adult lives. If we do our jobs well, they will have learned how to conduct themselves in public during ceremony or prayer. They will have learned how to be part of a team and how to put the interests of the team above their own. (Tough for adults, let alone seven year olds).

Often, our fist impulse is to want to make children happy. It’s not fun to deal with a young child who is disappointed or feels left out. Providing comfort as you help them sort through their feelings and frustration will have a big impact on their character.

Parents (and Akelas) as guides and comforters. It’s a fitting theme for the month of May.  We not only celebrate the Virgin Mary during May, but we begin the month with the feast of Saint Joseph, the Worker.

As we think about the Holy Family, consider how much Joseph and Mary were there to provide comfort and security to our Lord. In spite of the great joy they must have experienced as the parents of Christ while on earth, imagine the incredible burden they must have felt, knowing what he would later endure. They would have known that he was to become a man of sorrow, acquainted with grief as Isaiah had foretold.

Next month, when the Cubs present the colors to their pack, I have no doubt that many of their parents will be pleased with how well they conducted the ceremony. I hope that a few will also notice that thanks to the patience, kindness and compassion of their den leaders, that they grew just a bit more mature in the process.

Copyright 2012 Kirk Whitney

Editor’s Note: Today, I have the great joy of introducing you to a new writer and friend of CatholicMom.com: Kirk Whitney. Over the past few months, I have fallen in love with Kirk’s brand of writing and his unique perspective and am so happy to have him joining us here on the blog! Please join me in welcoming Kirk today and be sure to check out his wonderful blogs, The Surly Temple and La Surly Table. LMH

Prior to Lent this year, I reviewed Paula Huston’s book, simplifying THE SOUL Lenten Practices to Renew your Spirit. One the Lenten observances she suggests is to attend Mass on a weekday.

Three years ago, just before Ash Wednesday, I resolved to attend Mass every weekday during Lent. I don’t recall what prompted me to do it, but I’m glad I did.

I started attending 6:45 am Mass. Prior to that, my morning routine was at least forty minutes in a comfortable chair with a cup of coffee and a copy of the Wall Street Journal. I felt that I had to have that quiet time in the morning before dragging myself to work. (Dragging, because I was going through a rough patch at work in those days.)

By the end of the second week of Lent, I noticed that my attitude at work had improved. I no longer had to drag myself out of bed in the morning. I was no longer getting up to go to to work, I was getting up to go to Mass.

Toward the end of Lent, I had to attend a conference in Texas. I surprised myself by walking 12 blocks through downtown Austin before sunrise to attend 6:30 Mass each day. (Ok, one day I slept in, but I went to their noon Mass that day)

Easter came and went. I kept going to 6:45 Mass.

Daily Mass is a habit I have continued year round since then. I retired a few months ago, so I no longer have to get up for work, but I still attend 6:45 Mass on most days. (Although now it’s on my way to my daughter’s house to help get her kids ready for the day).

Why do I keep going? There are several reasons.

I have developed a greater appreciation for the Liturgy. I enjoy the simple and focused form it takes on weekdays. Even when my attention lapses, I still benefit by osmosis.  Exposure to scripture through the daily readings, and homilies that are usually concise and relaxed have added to my understanding of the faith.

Mass can also be a practical, centering experience. I recently found myself deciding to move due to a series of events that seemed to come out of the blue. The morning after deciding to make offer on a house, I felt overwhelmed and thought I should skip Mass. My wife suggested that my sudden panic about moving and taking on a mortgage was all the more reason to attend. When we sat down and opened our Magnificat at the start of Mass we realized that it was the feast of Saint Joseph.  There was no better day in the liturgical year to pray about housing and caring for your family. My anxiety quickly evaporated.

There is also the sense that I have joined a community. Even though I only “know” a few of the folks who attend, I think of the hundred or so regulars as fellow 6:45’rs. I feel oddly pleased when I spot one of them in the outside world. I am curious when I see new faces show up and even more curious when I notice the someone has not been there for a while.

I have come to enjoy starting each morning  with a focus on God, then being sent forth to face the day. I would encourage anyone, when the opportunity presents itself, to attend weekday Mass from time to time. I am glad to have arrived at a point in my life where I am able to go often. For many of us, the time constraints that come with raising a family and work make that hard to do. The good things in life are seldom easy.

Copyright 2012 Kirk Whitney