"Do not think that love, in order to be genuine, has to be extraordinary. What we need is to love without getting tired. Be faithful in small things because it is in them that your strength lies." ~Blessed Teresa of Calcutta, Catholic Nun (1910-1997)
He brought the little old woman to her room. The secretary had heard she was diminutive in stature, but he was still shocked at how tiny, old and wizen she seemed. The attendant followed them carrying her battered old suitcase. Unlocking the door he let her into her room then motioned the attendant to bring the bag inside. “Where would you like this” he asked? “There in the chair would be fine” she responded simply.
The young man dropped the bag in the chair, gave a slight bow and headed out the door. The old woman stood there staring all around the room. “Is everything OK” The secretary asked. “It’s much too big and a bit overdone,” she said absent mindedly.
“Well if you need anything just pick up the phone over there and the operator will take care of you,” he said brightly heading for the door. “It’s getting on into the evening and I imagine you will want to rest.” She didn’t respond. “I will call for you at 9:00 a.m. tomorrow.” Still no response… “Goodnight,” he said and closed the door quietly.
The next morning the secretary knocked on her door at 9:00 sharp. He heard rustling in the room, but no response. He knocked again; a little harder this time. Finally the door opened slightly and the woman peered out at him. Her eyes seemed tired and bloodshot. “Come in, I need a few minutes,” was all she said. As he entered he noticed the suitcase was still in the chair where it had been placed the night before. It seemed untouched.
The little old woman returned from the bathroom. She looked particularly tired, “Did you sleep well,” he asked. “I didn’t get much sleep last night, I had work to do.” “Work?” he responded. “Yes, work.”
The secretary was incredulous. “What did you do last night” he asked. “After you left I went out into the streets to minister to the poor.” “There are a lot of poor people in this city.” “I didn’t get in till after 2:00 this morning.”
“You were out wandering the streets of Rome at night?” The secretary couldn’t believe what he had just heard. “Well you didn’t expect me to sit around here all night did you?” she responded. A faint smile seemed to appear for an instant. “His Holiness is expecting us,” advised the secretary recovering his composure. “We need to be on our way.”
As they left he wondered what other revelations the day had in store.
Teresa and I leave for Rome next week to attend Archbishop Jose Gomez’ Pallium Mass at St. Peter’s Basilica. Over the last several weeks we have had a lot of questions: What is the appropriate dress at the various functions? Where are we sitting? Where is our hotel in relationship to Vatican City? What shoes should be worn and/or carried (style versus comfort)? How does one greet a Bishop, an Archbishop or a Pope? And so on… All of this seems very important at the moment. After all, we want to look our best. Or at least we don’t want to look bad because we did something inappropriate.
The day Mother Teresa met Pope John Paul II for the first time she too could have focused on a number of things: What she would say? How she would appear? How nice her room was? How impressed she was with Vatican City? Et Cetera… And yet, she focused on none of these. Mother Teresa focused on what she always focused upon: caring for the needy, the underprivileged, and the hungry, essentially anyone in need.
In a world where so much attention is given to how we look, how we act, the impression we make, will we be respected and a host of other self image issues are we not all called to something greater? In fact, are we not called to care for one another first and, in so doing, save the world? Today, if we all decided poverty would end, it would end. If we all decided wars would cease, there would be peace. If we all made sure everyone was fed, there would be no more hunger.
When it comes to making an impression on the world do we want to be remembered for how good we looked when we showed up? Or, like Mother Teresa, do we want to be remembered for the number of people we helped and saved?
Dear God: Remind me always that my actions speak louder than my appearance.
"People are often unreasonable and self-centered.
Forgive them anyway.
If you are kind, people may accuse you of ulterior motives.
Be kind anyway.
If you are honest, people may cheat you.
Be honest anyway.
If you find happiness, people may be jealous.
Be happy anyway.
The good you do today may be forgotten tomorrow.
Do good anyway.
Give the world the best you have and it may never be enough.
Give your best anyway.
For you see, in the end, it is between you and God.
It was never between you and them anyway."
~Blessed Teresa of Calcutta, Catholic Nun (1910-1997)
© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
“90 Second Stewardship” All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the ”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
Friday, June 17, 2011
Friday, June 10, 2011
The Scenic Route
“There are no shortcuts to any place worth going.” ~ Beverly Sills, American operatic soprano (1929-2007)
We had only been married a few weeks when Teresa asked me to take her shopping for a new pair of sandals. In the late seventies, in the tiny river towns of southwestern Pennsylvania, the place to go shopping was Charleroi, PA, a small town along the Monongahela River 25 miles south of Pittsburgh. I assumed it would be a quick errand since there was a Montgomery Ward located there. We could just “zip in and zip out.”
We parked on Lincoln Avenue and got out of the car. I turned toward the “box store” on the corner; its big sign beckoned. “Just a second,” Teresa said from behind me. Turning I found my young bride surveying the surrounding shops; swiveling her head like a quarterback looking for open receivers. “There!” she exclaimed pointing at a little boutique store across the street. Off we went with me still glancing over my shoulder at Montgomery Ward.
A bell rang, announcing our arrival, as we entered the shop. The shop keeper, an older woman with a gray bouffant hairdo, smiled and nodded her welcome. Teresa headed for the racks along the wall. After she perused what seemed like every shoe in the place, she selected a pair of Bass Sandals. Surprisingly, to me anyway, she requested two sizes. The shopkeeper dutifully brought two boxes from the back room. One pair fit beautifully. Though we were newlyweds I instinctively reached for my wallet.
“Thank you,” Teresa said politely, handing the boxes back to the woman. “Don’t you like them?” I asked. “Oh, they’re perfect,” she responded. “So, let’s get them,” I insisted. “Not just yet,” she said with a grin. “We’re not done yet,” and out the door she went with me trailing behind.
I was confused at this point. Being male, my instincts were different than hers. Shoe shopping should be like going to the hardware store: find what you need, buy it and go home. As the afternoon wore on I quickly learned there was another very different approach.
We visited no less than ten more shops and stores, including Montgomery Ward which we visited last. The drill was pretty much the same at each. Teresa would carefully examine the entire selection of sandals available to her. Then she would pick one or two selections, request multiple sizes and try all of them on, ultimately returning them politely to the sales person.
After perusing the contents of eleven stores I was both tired and mystified. There couldn’t be any more purveyors of shoes in Charleroi…could there?
“Now what?” I asked hesitantly. “One last stop,” Teresa replied and headed off again; me tagging along behind with my hands stuffed in my jeans pockets. To my complete surprise we arrived back in front of the shop at which we had started.
The bell again signaled our arrival. The shop keeper, the older woman with the gray bouffant hairdo, was still behind the counter smiling. “Do you have those Bass Sandals I tried on a while ago,” Teresa asked politely. “Sure do,” the woman replied. “They’re right here.” “Haven’t put them away yet,” she said handing the box to Teresa. Teresa tried them on a second time checking their “look” in the tilted floor mirror. “I’ll take these,” she said finally.
Relieved, but still confused, I again reached for my wallet; this time handing over the requisite amount of cash. The shopkeeper bagged the shoe box and receipt and handed them to Teresa. After the appropriate social niceties we left…the bell signaling our departure.
“So are you happy with those?” I asked as we headed toward BJ’s Diner. “They’re perfect!” Teresa responded. “Well, if they were the right ones, why didn’t you buy them in the first place,” I asked.
Teresa looked at me with a smile of wisdom and love I have come to know well over the years. “Because,” she began patiently; “Now I know they are the right ones.”
On that day as a new husband I quickly learned why they are called “shopping trips.” What I considered running an errand, was an event for Teresa …an excursion…an experience. Life, after all, is meant to be experienced, not simply circumnavigated as quickly as possible.
Our shopping excursion helped me get to know Teresa a little better: what she liked and what she didn’t. The trip also gave me a glimpse into a world I would probably have not experienced otherwise. It also created a few small mysteries to ponder along the way. For instance, did the shopkeeper sense Teresa would be back and kept the shoes out or had she simply neglected to put them away?
Sadly, we live in a world where shortcuts are expected and sought out. They are also dangerous. Every shortcut taken excludes something or someone. We may think we are being more efficient, but there is also a price to be paid, a cost to be extracted. That loss is often loss in relationships, experience or knowledge. If you don’t believe me try speed dating sometime.
Shortcuts limit our satisfaction. Teresa found satisfaction in shopping. I found satisfaction in getting to know her. We are called to be stewards of our life’s journey. Spiritually, we are called to take the road less traveled, the scenic route. No truly lush oasis can be reached without crossing a desert first.
Dear God: Show me the scenic route.
“A firm foundation is built on growth; not rushing….We can never break nature’s laws. Too often we break ourselves trying.” ~Acquire Wisdom & Live with Passion (blog)
© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
“90 Second Stewardship” All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the ”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
We had only been married a few weeks when Teresa asked me to take her shopping for a new pair of sandals. In the late seventies, in the tiny river towns of southwestern Pennsylvania, the place to go shopping was Charleroi, PA, a small town along the Monongahela River 25 miles south of Pittsburgh. I assumed it would be a quick errand since there was a Montgomery Ward located there. We could just “zip in and zip out.”
We parked on Lincoln Avenue and got out of the car. I turned toward the “box store” on the corner; its big sign beckoned. “Just a second,” Teresa said from behind me. Turning I found my young bride surveying the surrounding shops; swiveling her head like a quarterback looking for open receivers. “There!” she exclaimed pointing at a little boutique store across the street. Off we went with me still glancing over my shoulder at Montgomery Ward.
A bell rang, announcing our arrival, as we entered the shop. The shop keeper, an older woman with a gray bouffant hairdo, smiled and nodded her welcome. Teresa headed for the racks along the wall. After she perused what seemed like every shoe in the place, she selected a pair of Bass Sandals. Surprisingly, to me anyway, she requested two sizes. The shopkeeper dutifully brought two boxes from the back room. One pair fit beautifully. Though we were newlyweds I instinctively reached for my wallet.
“Thank you,” Teresa said politely, handing the boxes back to the woman. “Don’t you like them?” I asked. “Oh, they’re perfect,” she responded. “So, let’s get them,” I insisted. “Not just yet,” she said with a grin. “We’re not done yet,” and out the door she went with me trailing behind.
I was confused at this point. Being male, my instincts were different than hers. Shoe shopping should be like going to the hardware store: find what you need, buy it and go home. As the afternoon wore on I quickly learned there was another very different approach.
We visited no less than ten more shops and stores, including Montgomery Ward which we visited last. The drill was pretty much the same at each. Teresa would carefully examine the entire selection of sandals available to her. Then she would pick one or two selections, request multiple sizes and try all of them on, ultimately returning them politely to the sales person.
After perusing the contents of eleven stores I was both tired and mystified. There couldn’t be any more purveyors of shoes in Charleroi…could there?
“Now what?” I asked hesitantly. “One last stop,” Teresa replied and headed off again; me tagging along behind with my hands stuffed in my jeans pockets. To my complete surprise we arrived back in front of the shop at which we had started.
The bell again signaled our arrival. The shop keeper, the older woman with the gray bouffant hairdo, was still behind the counter smiling. “Do you have those Bass Sandals I tried on a while ago,” Teresa asked politely. “Sure do,” the woman replied. “They’re right here.” “Haven’t put them away yet,” she said handing the box to Teresa. Teresa tried them on a second time checking their “look” in the tilted floor mirror. “I’ll take these,” she said finally.
Relieved, but still confused, I again reached for my wallet; this time handing over the requisite amount of cash. The shopkeeper bagged the shoe box and receipt and handed them to Teresa. After the appropriate social niceties we left…the bell signaling our departure.
“So are you happy with those?” I asked as we headed toward BJ’s Diner. “They’re perfect!” Teresa responded. “Well, if they were the right ones, why didn’t you buy them in the first place,” I asked.
Teresa looked at me with a smile of wisdom and love I have come to know well over the years. “Because,” she began patiently; “Now I know they are the right ones.”
On that day as a new husband I quickly learned why they are called “shopping trips.” What I considered running an errand, was an event for Teresa …an excursion…an experience. Life, after all, is meant to be experienced, not simply circumnavigated as quickly as possible.
Our shopping excursion helped me get to know Teresa a little better: what she liked and what she didn’t. The trip also gave me a glimpse into a world I would probably have not experienced otherwise. It also created a few small mysteries to ponder along the way. For instance, did the shopkeeper sense Teresa would be back and kept the shoes out or had she simply neglected to put them away?
Sadly, we live in a world where shortcuts are expected and sought out. They are also dangerous. Every shortcut taken excludes something or someone. We may think we are being more efficient, but there is also a price to be paid, a cost to be extracted. That loss is often loss in relationships, experience or knowledge. If you don’t believe me try speed dating sometime.
Shortcuts limit our satisfaction. Teresa found satisfaction in shopping. I found satisfaction in getting to know her. We are called to be stewards of our life’s journey. Spiritually, we are called to take the road less traveled, the scenic route. No truly lush oasis can be reached without crossing a desert first.
Dear God: Show me the scenic route.
“A firm foundation is built on growth; not rushing….We can never break nature’s laws. Too often we break ourselves trying.” ~Acquire Wisdom & Live with Passion (blog)
© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
“90 Second Stewardship” All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the ”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
Friday, June 3, 2011
All in Good Time
“We are limited, not by our abilities, but by our vision.” ~ Author unknown
James ran his eyes down the agenda for the meeting of the Our Lady of Guilt and Suffering Parish Council. As President, it was his responsibility to run the meeting. There were only two items on the Agenda. The first was to determine whether it was appropriate to give every parish employee a lily for Easter.
The second was the discussion and approval of a Strategic Plan for the upcoming year. Many changes were taking place within their local church, the community and the Church at large. This plan could have long range implications of extraordinary consequence upon the future of the parish.
After a brief prayer and perfunctory approval of the minutes from the last meeting they launched into the first agenda item. The discussion regarding the lilies was detailed, lively and hotly contested.
Everyone seemed to have a different opinion. Was a lily an appropriate gift for the male members of the staff? Should a more generic gift be offered? What about employees who were allergic to plants? What if a lily would bring back bad memories of a recently deceased relative? Perhaps a “cash in lieu” option should be offered? Maybe the church could get a better “deal” from a parishioner who was also a florist? Was a precedent being set which, if later discontinued, could negatively impact morale?
The discussion went on endlessly. James suddenly realized there would not be sufficient time left to discuss the Strategic Plan; a plan which could forever change the direction, future and outreach of the parish. He announced to the Council, because of the lack of sufficient time remaining, discussion of the Strategic Plan would have to be postponed until the next quarterly meeting.
The question was hastily called on the “lily issue.” The Parish Council voted to go ahead with the gift of a lily to each employee. There was one dissenting vote; a creationist who believed selling and buying plants was equivalent to slavery. “Plants are people too,” she chirped.
After a brief prayer the meeting was adjourned.
During my early years in the insurance industry I worked with a gentleman who proudly proclaimed he was a “big picture guy.” According to him, his job was to come up with sweeping strategic ideas. The planning and implementation was left to everyone else. I thought he was just lazy.
Secretly, we would all like to think we are “big picture guys” when in fact most of us prefer and enjoy minutia. Strategic thinking takes courage, patience and requires waiting, watching and adjusting. Minutia is much more fun and satisfying. It makes us feel busy and useful even when we don’t really accomplish much. Most of us don’t like to wait and watch. We want to do something and move on
Much to our chagrin the Big Guy (Gal?) upstairs operates on a very strategic level. He is the Big Picture Guy my coworker was talking about. The result is we often have to wait and watch for Him.
This is particularly painful when we are looking to Him to resolve our problems. “When God closes a door he opens another door,” we say to ourselves not realizing there may be a long, dark hallway in between. Jacob’s son Joseph waited 2 years in prison after he interpreted the baker’s and the cupbearer’s (butler’s) dreams before he was released (Genesis verses 40 & 41).
Even our prayers seem to reflect this predisposition for instant results. We pray for God to change our circumstances rather than to change us. In the end, it may be fun and satisfying to talk about lilies for workers, but the strategic aspect of our lives is so much more important. Wait for it.
Dear God: Please…Just give me a hint!
“We must let go of the life we have planned, so as to accept the one that is waiting for us.” ~ Joseph Campbell, American mythologist, writer and lecturer (1904-1987)
© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
“90 Second Stewardship” All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the ”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
James ran his eyes down the agenda for the meeting of the Our Lady of Guilt and Suffering Parish Council. As President, it was his responsibility to run the meeting. There were only two items on the Agenda. The first was to determine whether it was appropriate to give every parish employee a lily for Easter.
The second was the discussion and approval of a Strategic Plan for the upcoming year. Many changes were taking place within their local church, the community and the Church at large. This plan could have long range implications of extraordinary consequence upon the future of the parish.
After a brief prayer and perfunctory approval of the minutes from the last meeting they launched into the first agenda item. The discussion regarding the lilies was detailed, lively and hotly contested.
Everyone seemed to have a different opinion. Was a lily an appropriate gift for the male members of the staff? Should a more generic gift be offered? What about employees who were allergic to plants? What if a lily would bring back bad memories of a recently deceased relative? Perhaps a “cash in lieu” option should be offered? Maybe the church could get a better “deal” from a parishioner who was also a florist? Was a precedent being set which, if later discontinued, could negatively impact morale?
The discussion went on endlessly. James suddenly realized there would not be sufficient time left to discuss the Strategic Plan; a plan which could forever change the direction, future and outreach of the parish. He announced to the Council, because of the lack of sufficient time remaining, discussion of the Strategic Plan would have to be postponed until the next quarterly meeting.
The question was hastily called on the “lily issue.” The Parish Council voted to go ahead with the gift of a lily to each employee. There was one dissenting vote; a creationist who believed selling and buying plants was equivalent to slavery. “Plants are people too,” she chirped.
After a brief prayer the meeting was adjourned.
During my early years in the insurance industry I worked with a gentleman who proudly proclaimed he was a “big picture guy.” According to him, his job was to come up with sweeping strategic ideas. The planning and implementation was left to everyone else. I thought he was just lazy.
Secretly, we would all like to think we are “big picture guys” when in fact most of us prefer and enjoy minutia. Strategic thinking takes courage, patience and requires waiting, watching and adjusting. Minutia is much more fun and satisfying. It makes us feel busy and useful even when we don’t really accomplish much. Most of us don’t like to wait and watch. We want to do something and move on
Much to our chagrin the Big Guy (Gal?) upstairs operates on a very strategic level. He is the Big Picture Guy my coworker was talking about. The result is we often have to wait and watch for Him.
This is particularly painful when we are looking to Him to resolve our problems. “When God closes a door he opens another door,” we say to ourselves not realizing there may be a long, dark hallway in between. Jacob’s son Joseph waited 2 years in prison after he interpreted the baker’s and the cupbearer’s (butler’s) dreams before he was released (Genesis verses 40 & 41).
Even our prayers seem to reflect this predisposition for instant results. We pray for God to change our circumstances rather than to change us. In the end, it may be fun and satisfying to talk about lilies for workers, but the strategic aspect of our lives is so much more important. Wait for it.
Dear God: Please…Just give me a hint!
“We must let go of the life we have planned, so as to accept the one that is waiting for us.” ~ Joseph Campbell, American mythologist, writer and lecturer (1904-1987)
© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
“90 Second Stewardship” All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the ”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
Friday, May 27, 2011
Stress Test
“Stress is nothing more than a socially acceptable form of mental illness.” ~Richard Carlson, American author, psychotherapist, and motivational speaker (1961-2006)
It was a lump. Allison didn’t want to admit it, but she couldn’t deny its existence. She had checked and double checked, but it was definitely there. Her regular cursory check in the shower had discovered it and the doctor’s exam had confirmed it. The mammogram, which the doctor had scheduled immediately, was still several weeks away.
Allison started to take stock of her life. Her personal spirituality emphasized the importance of cultivating a good attitude and positive action as opposed to allowing the negative stresses of her life to have their way. As she contemplated the previous several months a realization came to her. She had been allowing the stress of daily living to weigh upon her. Small slights had bloomed into significant offenses. Irritations which in the past would have gone unnoticed were now sticking to her like a bur on a cocker spaniel.
It was time to start dumping the bad karma. Over the next several weeks she conscientiously went about eliminating stress in her life. Sometimes she avoided certain situations or people. Other times she had to rely on exercise, yoga or meditation. Whatever it took, she did it. Gradually she could feel herself unwind.
The day came for the mammogram. The test was incredibly uncomfortable. Whoever described it as having a piece of glass laid across your chest and a truck parked on top of it got it right. She waited anxiously for the results. Finally the clinician called her.
When she came to her in the waiting room the clinician seemed perplexed. “I’m not sure how to tell you this, but we can’t find a lump…anywhere.” “We’ve checked and double checked, but we can’t find anything.” We have no explanation.” “We suggest you check in with your doctor again in six months.”
Allison thanked the woman, shrugged on her jacket and headed for the door. She smiled to herself: “They may not have an explanation, but I sure do,” she mused.
Our lives can be very toxic. Not simply because of pollutants in our air or bacteria in our water, but because of the lives we live. Our lives seem filled with toxic events, toxic people, toxic jobs and toxic relationships. Some of us even have toxic commutes. Just like free radicals in our circulatory system we carry hurts, fear and resentments around with us. This emotional debris divides our attention, drains our energy and steals our happiness even when nothing bad is happening at the moment.
It is as if we were dragging a bag of rocks around with us. These rocks are laden with latent emotion. Some are old and slimly because they have been held onto for a very long time. Some are new, perhaps still hot from a recent argument.
At times when we are not already sufficiently unhappy we take a rock from the bag and examine it, thereby conjuring up anew all the raw negative emotion of an old event. Professional counselors call this technique, “wearing a groove in your head” the result of reliving negative experiences over and over again.
Being good stewards of ourselves means eliminating the toxicity from our lives. The answer is to empty the rocks from our bag. The answer is simple, but doing so is not so simple. It may mean letting go of a resentment, making an amends, asking for forgiveness, extricating ourselves from a toxic job or relationship, receiving counseling to discover the source of latent fears, or simply taking time to relax.
Detoxify your life. Our life is a gift from God and we are called to care for ourselves just as much as we are to care for others. Drop the rocks! Get rid of the bag! Don't let your mind bully your body into believing it must carry the burden of its worries (Astrid Alauda).
Dear God: When I am stressed help me focus on you.
“It ain’t what ya eat what gives ya ulcers, it’s what eats you.” ~unknown
© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
“90 Second Stewardship” All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the ”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
It was a lump. Allison didn’t want to admit it, but she couldn’t deny its existence. She had checked and double checked, but it was definitely there. Her regular cursory check in the shower had discovered it and the doctor’s exam had confirmed it. The mammogram, which the doctor had scheduled immediately, was still several weeks away.
Allison started to take stock of her life. Her personal spirituality emphasized the importance of cultivating a good attitude and positive action as opposed to allowing the negative stresses of her life to have their way. As she contemplated the previous several months a realization came to her. She had been allowing the stress of daily living to weigh upon her. Small slights had bloomed into significant offenses. Irritations which in the past would have gone unnoticed were now sticking to her like a bur on a cocker spaniel.
It was time to start dumping the bad karma. Over the next several weeks she conscientiously went about eliminating stress in her life. Sometimes she avoided certain situations or people. Other times she had to rely on exercise, yoga or meditation. Whatever it took, she did it. Gradually she could feel herself unwind.
The day came for the mammogram. The test was incredibly uncomfortable. Whoever described it as having a piece of glass laid across your chest and a truck parked on top of it got it right. She waited anxiously for the results. Finally the clinician called her.
When she came to her in the waiting room the clinician seemed perplexed. “I’m not sure how to tell you this, but we can’t find a lump…anywhere.” “We’ve checked and double checked, but we can’t find anything.” We have no explanation.” “We suggest you check in with your doctor again in six months.”
Allison thanked the woman, shrugged on her jacket and headed for the door. She smiled to herself: “They may not have an explanation, but I sure do,” she mused.
Our lives can be very toxic. Not simply because of pollutants in our air or bacteria in our water, but because of the lives we live. Our lives seem filled with toxic events, toxic people, toxic jobs and toxic relationships. Some of us even have toxic commutes. Just like free radicals in our circulatory system we carry hurts, fear and resentments around with us. This emotional debris divides our attention, drains our energy and steals our happiness even when nothing bad is happening at the moment.
It is as if we were dragging a bag of rocks around with us. These rocks are laden with latent emotion. Some are old and slimly because they have been held onto for a very long time. Some are new, perhaps still hot from a recent argument.
At times when we are not already sufficiently unhappy we take a rock from the bag and examine it, thereby conjuring up anew all the raw negative emotion of an old event. Professional counselors call this technique, “wearing a groove in your head” the result of reliving negative experiences over and over again.
Being good stewards of ourselves means eliminating the toxicity from our lives. The answer is to empty the rocks from our bag. The answer is simple, but doing so is not so simple. It may mean letting go of a resentment, making an amends, asking for forgiveness, extricating ourselves from a toxic job or relationship, receiving counseling to discover the source of latent fears, or simply taking time to relax.
Detoxify your life. Our life is a gift from God and we are called to care for ourselves just as much as we are to care for others. Drop the rocks! Get rid of the bag! Don't let your mind bully your body into believing it must carry the burden of its worries (Astrid Alauda).
Dear God: When I am stressed help me focus on you.
“It ain’t what ya eat what gives ya ulcers, it’s what eats you.” ~unknown
© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
“90 Second Stewardship” All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the ”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
Friday, May 20, 2011
Period of Adjustment
“Perfection is the goal, but the law is Murphy’s.” ~ Unknown
Like Zacchaeus, Ace Adams was a diminutive man. Rather than climbing trees to get a better view his habit was to sit on the backs of chairs and benches with his feet on the seat. With a name like Ace Adams it comes as no surprise his chosen avocation was the Bowling Pro at the Route 19 Bowling Center in Washington, Pa.
In my teens I joined a Saturday morning bowling league. Not so much because I liked to bowl, but because there were girls my age there too. Unfortunately, my bowling skills left much to be desired. The harder I tried the worse it got. The good news was I was welcomed onto a team because my handicap was so high. The bad news? I didn’t impress anyone with my skills, particularly the ladies.
Finally one afternoon, after a particularly poor performance in a tournament, I asked Ace for help. A day and time were arranged. The following Thursday afternoon I appeared at the lanes with my bag, ball and shoes. Ace took me to a lane at the farthest end of the building.
As was his custom he sat on the back of the plastic bench as I changed shoes and placed my ball on the return rack. Turning to face him I crossed my arms and awaited instructions. “Go ahead,” he said, gesturing toward the lane. “Don’t you want to show me what to do?” I asked. “No, go ahead and let me see you bowl.” Puzzled by his response, I half heartedly threw the ball down the alley. Even before the ball reached the pins I turned and awaited a response. “Again,” was all he said.
This went on for nearly ten minutes. After a plethora of gutter balls, missed spares and several attempts where the ball actually slipped out of my hand I was completely frustrated. “I thought you were going to teach me to bowl,” I whined. “I am,” he said with a crooked little smile. My face and posture telegraphed my surprise.
“Look,” he began. “There are two ways to teach you to bowl.” “I can show you a standard address, with a three step approach and a basic arm swing.” “You will learn to bowl quickly, but you will only be average.” “Or, I can watch you for a while, make periodic adjustments and let you practice those adjustments.” “You won’t learn to bowl quickly, but you will learn to bowl well.” “OK?” Ace asked with a smile. “OK” I responded, looking at my feet. (I had been hoping for some more immediate gratification.)
Every Thursday afternoon, for what seemed like months, I had a half hour session with Ace. Each one was the same. He would watch me for 10-15 minutes and then make minor adjustments: sometimes it was the release, the slide, the rotation or the spot. As a result, I slowly improved and my handicap steadily dropped.
I still remember the day I bowled my first 200+ game. Joyfully sharing the news with Ace, I glibly remarked, “Guess I won’t need lessons anymore!” “Have you bowled a perfect 900 series yet?” Ace asked. “No, I replied sheepishly.” “Then I’ll see you next Thursday,” Ace responded with a twinkle in his eye.
All of us want to be accomplished at living. We think there is a formula to be followed which will minimize our stress and make us happy. Numerous self help books fill our shelves (or electronic readers) suggesting they have the answer to life’s issues; that we can be happy if we will only follow a few simple instructions.
In point of fact, like my first day of bowling lessons when I expected Ace to “teach me to bowl,” we often look for instant gratification and immediate success. In other words, show me the basic techniques of living so I can get on with my life.
Such an approach can lead us to a superficial and single dimensional existence. Life is, in and of itself, a learning process, much like Ace’s bowling lessons. We start living and we make adjustments. Things happen (or don’t happen) and we make the necessary changes. Hopefully there are people like Ace in our lives who point things out and help us adjust.
We all want so desperately to be “complete” human beings. We want our current state to be a state of perfection. On the other hand, if you asked someone: “Do you want to have a future?” Most would answer, “Absolutely!” And yet, if we are “complete,” we have no future! Incompleteness, therefore, is a gift. It gives us opportunities to make adjustments and try again; to have a future.
Our need for growth is what gives us a future. Is it any wonder God loves us in our brokenness…our incompleteness? Our brokenness does not condemn us, rather it gives us life…it gives us a future. When it comes to life we will never have a perfect score, but we will have opportunities to grow and we will have a future.
Dear God: When I am frustrated or impatient, remind me that you are not finished with me yet.
“Growth implies a person is not finished and, therefore, has a future.” ~Companions in Hope: The Art of Christian Caring by Robert J. Wicks, Thomas E. Rodgerson
© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
“90 Second Stewardship” All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the ”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
Like Zacchaeus, Ace Adams was a diminutive man. Rather than climbing trees to get a better view his habit was to sit on the backs of chairs and benches with his feet on the seat. With a name like Ace Adams it comes as no surprise his chosen avocation was the Bowling Pro at the Route 19 Bowling Center in Washington, Pa.
In my teens I joined a Saturday morning bowling league. Not so much because I liked to bowl, but because there were girls my age there too. Unfortunately, my bowling skills left much to be desired. The harder I tried the worse it got. The good news was I was welcomed onto a team because my handicap was so high. The bad news? I didn’t impress anyone with my skills, particularly the ladies.
Finally one afternoon, after a particularly poor performance in a tournament, I asked Ace for help. A day and time were arranged. The following Thursday afternoon I appeared at the lanes with my bag, ball and shoes. Ace took me to a lane at the farthest end of the building.
As was his custom he sat on the back of the plastic bench as I changed shoes and placed my ball on the return rack. Turning to face him I crossed my arms and awaited instructions. “Go ahead,” he said, gesturing toward the lane. “Don’t you want to show me what to do?” I asked. “No, go ahead and let me see you bowl.” Puzzled by his response, I half heartedly threw the ball down the alley. Even before the ball reached the pins I turned and awaited a response. “Again,” was all he said.
This went on for nearly ten minutes. After a plethora of gutter balls, missed spares and several attempts where the ball actually slipped out of my hand I was completely frustrated. “I thought you were going to teach me to bowl,” I whined. “I am,” he said with a crooked little smile. My face and posture telegraphed my surprise.
“Look,” he began. “There are two ways to teach you to bowl.” “I can show you a standard address, with a three step approach and a basic arm swing.” “You will learn to bowl quickly, but you will only be average.” “Or, I can watch you for a while, make periodic adjustments and let you practice those adjustments.” “You won’t learn to bowl quickly, but you will learn to bowl well.” “OK?” Ace asked with a smile. “OK” I responded, looking at my feet. (I had been hoping for some more immediate gratification.)
Every Thursday afternoon, for what seemed like months, I had a half hour session with Ace. Each one was the same. He would watch me for 10-15 minutes and then make minor adjustments: sometimes it was the release, the slide, the rotation or the spot. As a result, I slowly improved and my handicap steadily dropped.
I still remember the day I bowled my first 200+ game. Joyfully sharing the news with Ace, I glibly remarked, “Guess I won’t need lessons anymore!” “Have you bowled a perfect 900 series yet?” Ace asked. “No, I replied sheepishly.” “Then I’ll see you next Thursday,” Ace responded with a twinkle in his eye.
All of us want to be accomplished at living. We think there is a formula to be followed which will minimize our stress and make us happy. Numerous self help books fill our shelves (or electronic readers) suggesting they have the answer to life’s issues; that we can be happy if we will only follow a few simple instructions.
In point of fact, like my first day of bowling lessons when I expected Ace to “teach me to bowl,” we often look for instant gratification and immediate success. In other words, show me the basic techniques of living so I can get on with my life.
Such an approach can lead us to a superficial and single dimensional existence. Life is, in and of itself, a learning process, much like Ace’s bowling lessons. We start living and we make adjustments. Things happen (or don’t happen) and we make the necessary changes. Hopefully there are people like Ace in our lives who point things out and help us adjust.
We all want so desperately to be “complete” human beings. We want our current state to be a state of perfection. On the other hand, if you asked someone: “Do you want to have a future?” Most would answer, “Absolutely!” And yet, if we are “complete,” we have no future! Incompleteness, therefore, is a gift. It gives us opportunities to make adjustments and try again; to have a future.
Our need for growth is what gives us a future. Is it any wonder God loves us in our brokenness…our incompleteness? Our brokenness does not condemn us, rather it gives us life…it gives us a future. When it comes to life we will never have a perfect score, but we will have opportunities to grow and we will have a future.
Dear God: When I am frustrated or impatient, remind me that you are not finished with me yet.
“Growth implies a person is not finished and, therefore, has a future.” ~Companions in Hope: The Art of Christian Caring by Robert J. Wicks, Thomas E. Rodgerson
© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
“90 Second Stewardship” All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the ”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
Friday, May 13, 2011
Time Sensitive
“All labor that uplifts humanity has dignity and importance and should be undertaken with painstaking excellence.” ~Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr., American Baptist Minister and Civil Rights Leader (1929-1968)
Ann Marie wasn’t very happy. As part of her company’s consolidation strategy her office had been moved from her local community to Woodland Hills. Her short commute had become a twice daily odyssey. The Metrolink train took her only as far as the Chatsworth Station. From there she relied on bus service to get to her office. Today it had been a half hour wait for the bus. When it did arrive the bus number was off by one number.
Concerned and confused she clambered aboard flashing her pass to the driver. “Does this bus stop at Warner Center?” she asked tentatively. The driver flashed here a radiant smile, “Don’t you worry, I’ll get you where you need to go!” “Pick yourself a nice seat." "We’ll be there soon.” Ann Marie couldn’t help but smile back. The door closed behind her with a “whosh-click” sound. She made her way to the first open seat and plopped into it.
As the bus pulled away from the curb Ann Marie pondered her encounter with the driver. He was a tall black man in his late thirties or early forties and seemed too well groomed and dressed to be a bus driver. Then she realized he was humming as he drove.
The bus slowed to a stop at another pick up point. A Hispanic mother and her three children started to climb aboard, but the mother faltered as she tried to negotiate the stroller up the narrow steps. Out of his seat in a flash the driver deftly caught up the stroller in a single movement and lifted it aboard simultaneously offering a cheery greeting.
This scenario was repeated at every stop. No matter the station in life of the person entering the bus they received the same warm, non judgmental greetings and attentive treatment. Little old ladies had their heavy shopping bags lifted into the bus; teenagers on their way to school got high-5’s and a “Wass-up!”
Those departing the bus received the same treatment. They were gently returned to a harsh world with a “have a nice day, see you soon” or “you have a good day, OK?”
As they pulled up to yet another stop Ann Marie noticed, what appeared to be, a homeless man sitting in a wheelchair near the tiny bus shelter. A tattered American flag hung limply from the top of a stick which was duct taped to the frame of the chair. On his lap was a battered box of toffee candies in waxy wrappings. “Wheelchair comin’ on!” the driver chirped. Two teens sitting on the flip up bench under the wheelchair sign quickly moved to seats in the back without being asked to do so.
The ramp dropped from the side of the bus and the homeless man rolled aboard. The driver produced a crisp dollar bill. “Did you save one of those candies for me?” he asked the homeless man. “Sure” the man replied in surprise, breaking into a grimy, nearly toothless grin. The driver selected a candy from the box, pocketed it with a smile and returned to his seat. The bus rumbled off again.
Ann Marie was surprised to realize they were arriving at Warner Center. The ride hadn’t seemed quite so long today. Heading toward the front of the bus she guided her laptop bag and purse between the seats. She reached the top of the stairs and turned to head down them. “You have a nice day now,” came the voice from behind her. When she turned back she met the same sincere smile which had greeted her when she had boarded earlier that day. “You to,” she replied returning the smile.
She turned and headed down the stairs and out into the warmth of the morning sun feeling a little better about her commute.
The impact we have upon the world will not be measured by our station in life, but by what we do with our station in life. Some think they need power, prestige or position to effect change in the world. In point of fact, we can have as much positive impact on the world from behind the steering wheel of a bus, as we can from the corner office of a downtown high rise; perhaps more.
Many of us view the stewardship of time on a quantitative basis. We ask: How much time should I give to my church? How much time should I spend volunteering in the community? How much time should I spend with my family, etc.? Being good stewards of our time on earth is not always measured in minutes and hours however. More often it is measured by the quality of the expenditure: the smiles it generated, the love it demonstrated and the human kindness it distributed.
Quantitatively the bus driver was spending his time working, but the way in which he did his job made all the difference. Not only did he influence the attitude of the others he served, but he modeled Christian behavior for them as well. His life was a homily we will never hear in church.
Every moment of our lives, every encounter with another human being is an opportunity to make a difference in their lives and our lives as well. In the end, the world will not be saved by a few grand gestures, but by a million small kindnesses.
Dear God: remind me to live my life so as to positively affect the lives of all I meet.
“If a man is called to be a street sweeper, he should sweep streets even as Michelangelo painted, or Beethoven composed music, or Shakespeare wrote poetry. He should sweep streets so well that all the hosts of heaven and earth will pause to say, here lived a great street sweeper who did his job well.” ~Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr., American Baptist Minister and Civil Rights Leader (1929-1968)
© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
“90 Second Stewardship” All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the ”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
Ann Marie wasn’t very happy. As part of her company’s consolidation strategy her office had been moved from her local community to Woodland Hills. Her short commute had become a twice daily odyssey. The Metrolink train took her only as far as the Chatsworth Station. From there she relied on bus service to get to her office. Today it had been a half hour wait for the bus. When it did arrive the bus number was off by one number.
Concerned and confused she clambered aboard flashing her pass to the driver. “Does this bus stop at Warner Center?” she asked tentatively. The driver flashed here a radiant smile, “Don’t you worry, I’ll get you where you need to go!” “Pick yourself a nice seat." "We’ll be there soon.” Ann Marie couldn’t help but smile back. The door closed behind her with a “whosh-click” sound. She made her way to the first open seat and plopped into it.
As the bus pulled away from the curb Ann Marie pondered her encounter with the driver. He was a tall black man in his late thirties or early forties and seemed too well groomed and dressed to be a bus driver. Then she realized he was humming as he drove.
The bus slowed to a stop at another pick up point. A Hispanic mother and her three children started to climb aboard, but the mother faltered as she tried to negotiate the stroller up the narrow steps. Out of his seat in a flash the driver deftly caught up the stroller in a single movement and lifted it aboard simultaneously offering a cheery greeting.
This scenario was repeated at every stop. No matter the station in life of the person entering the bus they received the same warm, non judgmental greetings and attentive treatment. Little old ladies had their heavy shopping bags lifted into the bus; teenagers on their way to school got high-5’s and a “Wass-up!”
Those departing the bus received the same treatment. They were gently returned to a harsh world with a “have a nice day, see you soon” or “you have a good day, OK?”
As they pulled up to yet another stop Ann Marie noticed, what appeared to be, a homeless man sitting in a wheelchair near the tiny bus shelter. A tattered American flag hung limply from the top of a stick which was duct taped to the frame of the chair. On his lap was a battered box of toffee candies in waxy wrappings. “Wheelchair comin’ on!” the driver chirped. Two teens sitting on the flip up bench under the wheelchair sign quickly moved to seats in the back without being asked to do so.
The ramp dropped from the side of the bus and the homeless man rolled aboard. The driver produced a crisp dollar bill. “Did you save one of those candies for me?” he asked the homeless man. “Sure” the man replied in surprise, breaking into a grimy, nearly toothless grin. The driver selected a candy from the box, pocketed it with a smile and returned to his seat. The bus rumbled off again.
Ann Marie was surprised to realize they were arriving at Warner Center. The ride hadn’t seemed quite so long today. Heading toward the front of the bus she guided her laptop bag and purse between the seats. She reached the top of the stairs and turned to head down them. “You have a nice day now,” came the voice from behind her. When she turned back she met the same sincere smile which had greeted her when she had boarded earlier that day. “You to,” she replied returning the smile.
She turned and headed down the stairs and out into the warmth of the morning sun feeling a little better about her commute.
The impact we have upon the world will not be measured by our station in life, but by what we do with our station in life. Some think they need power, prestige or position to effect change in the world. In point of fact, we can have as much positive impact on the world from behind the steering wheel of a bus, as we can from the corner office of a downtown high rise; perhaps more.
Many of us view the stewardship of time on a quantitative basis. We ask: How much time should I give to my church? How much time should I spend volunteering in the community? How much time should I spend with my family, etc.? Being good stewards of our time on earth is not always measured in minutes and hours however. More often it is measured by the quality of the expenditure: the smiles it generated, the love it demonstrated and the human kindness it distributed.
Quantitatively the bus driver was spending his time working, but the way in which he did his job made all the difference. Not only did he influence the attitude of the others he served, but he modeled Christian behavior for them as well. His life was a homily we will never hear in church.
Every moment of our lives, every encounter with another human being is an opportunity to make a difference in their lives and our lives as well. In the end, the world will not be saved by a few grand gestures, but by a million small kindnesses.
Dear God: remind me to live my life so as to positively affect the lives of all I meet.
“If a man is called to be a street sweeper, he should sweep streets even as Michelangelo painted, or Beethoven composed music, or Shakespeare wrote poetry. He should sweep streets so well that all the hosts of heaven and earth will pause to say, here lived a great street sweeper who did his job well.” ~Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr., American Baptist Minister and Civil Rights Leader (1929-1968)
© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
“90 Second Stewardship” All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the ”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
Friday, May 6, 2011
Peace Treaty
“Are we not all children of the same God?” ~ Karol Józef Wojtyła known as Blessed John Paul II (1920-2005)
Three days a week Maizah traveled from the Muslim Quarter in East Jerusalem to 26 King David Street. It was her personal time. She took the bus though it could be confusing even if you had lived there all your life as she had. When she arrived, Maizah dutifully showed her pass and was admitted to the facility. Having completed the check-in process she turned and headed toward the designated room.
Miriam loved the old city and had lived there all her life as her family before her. There were problems yes, but Jerusalem was the center of her faith and the “HaRova HaYehudi” (the Jewish Quarter) in the western part of Jerusalem had always been a special place. Still, two or three days a week, she would go to King David Street. Today was one of those days.
The domed roof of the building looked a little like a mosque, but the green, lush grass in front was always inviting. Miriam traversed the entryway and carefully presented her ID. Having been admitted, she headed for a room at the end of the hall.
Arriving at the open door Miriam entered carefully. As always the Palestinian woman was already there. The woman was removing her “hijaab” the scarf many Muslim women wore around their heads. Miriam walked carefully past her.
Maizah, was removing her “hijaab” when the Jewish woman arrived. She always seemed to be there at the same time as Maizah. She pretended not to notice her. Out of the corner of her eye she watched as the Jewish woman removed her head scarf a “tichel” or “mitpachat” as they called it and placed it in her bag. It looked much the same as her own scarf she thought. Maizah bent to relace her shoes and noticed the other woman doing the same.
Miriam sensed Maizah's eyes upon her and turned to meet her gaze. They embraced each other with their eyes for only a moment or two. Then…a single, slight, simultaneous nod to one another and they returned to their laces.
They went to their respective stations, made the necessary adjustments to the equipment and seated themselves on their stationary bikes. For the next 30 minutes they would pedal, side by side, burning the same calories and pumping the same red blood through their circulatory systems. For you see, 26 David Street is the location of the *Jerusalem International YMCA.
There is a difference between negotiating a truce and making peace. Battles can be won, but they do not create peace. Truces can be negotiated and tolerance agreed to, but the so called “peace” which results is usually a synthetic peace.
Real peace is cultivated, not declared and it can only grow out of a willingness to accept, love and try to understand one another. The killing of an international criminal does not solve the problem of our unwillingness to reach out to those who share our values, but not our faith or the way we express our faith.
Whether we worship God, Y*w*h or Allah the message has always been the same. We are called to love one another as much as we love ourselves. Yet, we live in a world where we spend more money on guns than food. Given the same resources we spend on war we could easily conquer world hunger and poverty.
If peace is to become a reality it will begin with people like Miriam and Maizah. It begins with sharing space, brief eye contact, a subtle nod of recognition, or a faint smile of acknowledgement. Peace grows as we become comfortable with one another.
In short, it begins with our willingness to let down our guard. After all, the handshake evolved out of a demonstration you didn’t have a weapon in your hand.
Miriam and Maizah probably don’t think of themselves as diplomats or peacemakers, but they are, even though there are no borders to be negotiated or treaties to be signed. They are the beginnings of peace though they share neither the same religion, language, nor the same culture. There is one common ground however. We all sweat in the same language, don’t we?
"Here is a place whose atmosphere is peace, where political and religious jealousies can be forgotten, and international unity fostered and developed." ~from a dedication address by Field Marshal Edmund Lord Allenby at the Jerusalem International YMCA April 18, 1933.
*Established in 1878 and operated by YMCA of the USA since 1920, the Jerusalem International YMCA (JIY) is a safe haven for religious, cultural and intellectual freedom for the people of Jerusalem. Jewish, Muslim and Christian people of all ages come to JIY to enjoy the atmosphere of understanding and unity. For its efforts in promoting the dignity of humankind and peace in the region, JIY was nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize in 1993.
© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
“90 Second Stewardship” All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the ”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
Three days a week Maizah traveled from the Muslim Quarter in East Jerusalem to 26 King David Street. It was her personal time. She took the bus though it could be confusing even if you had lived there all your life as she had. When she arrived, Maizah dutifully showed her pass and was admitted to the facility. Having completed the check-in process she turned and headed toward the designated room.
Miriam loved the old city and had lived there all her life as her family before her. There were problems yes, but Jerusalem was the center of her faith and the “HaRova HaYehudi” (the Jewish Quarter) in the western part of Jerusalem had always been a special place. Still, two or three days a week, she would go to King David Street. Today was one of those days.
The domed roof of the building looked a little like a mosque, but the green, lush grass in front was always inviting. Miriam traversed the entryway and carefully presented her ID. Having been admitted, she headed for a room at the end of the hall.
Arriving at the open door Miriam entered carefully. As always the Palestinian woman was already there. The woman was removing her “hijaab” the scarf many Muslim women wore around their heads. Miriam walked carefully past her.
Maizah, was removing her “hijaab” when the Jewish woman arrived. She always seemed to be there at the same time as Maizah. She pretended not to notice her. Out of the corner of her eye she watched as the Jewish woman removed her head scarf a “tichel” or “mitpachat” as they called it and placed it in her bag. It looked much the same as her own scarf she thought. Maizah bent to relace her shoes and noticed the other woman doing the same.
Miriam sensed Maizah's eyes upon her and turned to meet her gaze. They embraced each other with their eyes for only a moment or two. Then…a single, slight, simultaneous nod to one another and they returned to their laces.
They went to their respective stations, made the necessary adjustments to the equipment and seated themselves on their stationary bikes. For the next 30 minutes they would pedal, side by side, burning the same calories and pumping the same red blood through their circulatory systems. For you see, 26 David Street is the location of the *Jerusalem International YMCA.
There is a difference between negotiating a truce and making peace. Battles can be won, but they do not create peace. Truces can be negotiated and tolerance agreed to, but the so called “peace” which results is usually a synthetic peace.
Real peace is cultivated, not declared and it can only grow out of a willingness to accept, love and try to understand one another. The killing of an international criminal does not solve the problem of our unwillingness to reach out to those who share our values, but not our faith or the way we express our faith.
Whether we worship God, Y*w*h or Allah the message has always been the same. We are called to love one another as much as we love ourselves. Yet, we live in a world where we spend more money on guns than food. Given the same resources we spend on war we could easily conquer world hunger and poverty.
If peace is to become a reality it will begin with people like Miriam and Maizah. It begins with sharing space, brief eye contact, a subtle nod of recognition, or a faint smile of acknowledgement. Peace grows as we become comfortable with one another.
In short, it begins with our willingness to let down our guard. After all, the handshake evolved out of a demonstration you didn’t have a weapon in your hand.
Miriam and Maizah probably don’t think of themselves as diplomats or peacemakers, but they are, even though there are no borders to be negotiated or treaties to be signed. They are the beginnings of peace though they share neither the same religion, language, nor the same culture. There is one common ground however. We all sweat in the same language, don’t we?
"Here is a place whose atmosphere is peace, where political and religious jealousies can be forgotten, and international unity fostered and developed." ~from a dedication address by Field Marshal Edmund Lord Allenby at the Jerusalem International YMCA April 18, 1933.
*Established in 1878 and operated by YMCA of the USA since 1920, the Jerusalem International YMCA (JIY) is a safe haven for religious, cultural and intellectual freedom for the people of Jerusalem. Jewish, Muslim and Christian people of all ages come to JIY to enjoy the atmosphere of understanding and unity. For its efforts in promoting the dignity of humankind and peace in the region, JIY was nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize in 1993.
© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
“90 Second Stewardship” All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the ”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)