Bullying

I was listening to the Michael Savage radio program on the way to chapel.  His discussion topic was bullying.  Mr Savage, whose opinion I respect, opined that bullying is in man’s nature, and it is a strength whose results we naturally crave.  It rewards us with some level of respect, which everyone craves.  On this point, I agree --- up to this point.  But there is more.

The callers to the show were on both sides of the issue, some calling for respect (or pity) for the weak, and others noting how being bullied caused them to be stronger.  One noted how his being bullied caused him to develop physical strengths and to beat up his former bully, almost landing himself in jail --- and creating lasting anxieties about his own bullying desires.

The radio show was focused on man’s natural desire for respect, which is true, but it stopped short of considering the root of that desire for respect:  we naturally want to feel loved.

Respect is something given to us by others.  Some think you can earn respect (and I deserve it!), and others think you can force it:  I’ll beat it out of you.  But the truth of the matter is that we cannot force respect; it must be freely given by the other.  On the surface we might be demonstrating the proposition:  I respect myself, why don’t you?  On a deeper level, we might be saying: I love myself, why don’t you?

Why don’t you love me?

The history of man (and all animals) has shown the desire for respect, as commanded by strength.  From the caveman with the club to the dictator with armies, all history was about respect through strength.  Until the absolutely strongest Man in history came along, and said: I won’t demand your respect; I won’t even demand you love me, but rather by My choosing to love you, I will help you choose to love Me.

You can’t command to be loved; He demonstrated how to live in love.

A father is sometimes in the position of bullying his young child.  He can demand respect, but if he acts in love, what some see as bullying will be seen by his child as love, because the child sees not just one act by his father but the whole of his father’s actions toward him.  He sees the all-encompassing actions of love.

Love is what we really crave, not just respect.  Love can be earned, if we love first, and consistently.  And our first love must not be ourselves.  Bullying is our trying to get love for ourselves, but a wise man once said that without humility there cannot be love.  We need to stop demanding (bullying) respect for ourselves, but in humility demand nothing for ourselves, but rather to first seek the good of another, to love our neighbor as our primary aim.  Then and only then will we gain his respect, AND his love.

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On a related topic, the Bible Study guys were still in Romans: “May the God of steadfastness and encouragement grant you to live in such harmony with one another (Rom 15:5)” And, of course, their thoughts again turned to their “toxic relationships” with loved ones --- the druggie daughter and her jailed boyfriend, the son who curses his father, and the brother who hangs up at the mention of God.  How do you remain steadfast and encouraging to these, they wondered?  How do you demand, or beg, for their respect and love?  And when it’s not forthcoming, how do you love them anyway?

There were lots of analogies given.  In wanting them to change to what we know is right, we are like the Pharisees, who know the law; “This is the right way,” but Jesus emphasized to love them first of all, and not focus on their not understanding the right way.  Another guy described a proper relationship as our acting as sowers of the seed amidst the weeds, trusting that the seeds will be fed rain and sun by God to grow --- and at the same time watching that we don’t get poison ivy on ourselves, for on earth we too are a soil where weeds might sprout.  And when we sow we might not see the results we want as quickly as we’d like; that’s where God comes in.

I conceived of an analogy to toilet paper.  White, clean, it is a good thing, a necessary thing, yet in doing its function it gets dirty and stinks.  And we throw it away.  Further, despite its being “the most soft tissue,” or “having ridges,” it is not perfect --- and no matter how well it is used, the spot it cleans still will still have residue dirt, and smell, yet we continue to applaud the use of this imperfect thing called toilet paper.  It is a necessary thing.

In our lives, we all must be like toilet paper at some point.  It’s a hard thing to let ourselves be soiled upon, to be abused, to have to be around evil people, to have to be around stinky people.  They are not as clean as we are; they seem as something to be avoided --- “don’t step in that”--- and yet, at some point we must be the ones to clean up the mess, to minimize the smell, even though we can’t make it go away.  It’s a dirty job, but a job for which we were created – to make the world a better place.  And there’s one thing more, something that’s really hard to accept, and it is that this filth we see and abhor has a purpose; there is a good reason for this filth to exist:  it cleanses the person it comes out of.  The bad inside him is rejected.  Sometimes it is up to us to clean up the bad, and somehow still love the person that created it.  We need to separate the person from the bad he produces.

Being good toilet paper is hard, and no one was more s___ upon than Jesus.  And yet He said: “Follow Me.”  Don’t bully the person to try to gain respect; don’t curse his sin or weakness (or stink); love him as he is, and by your actions of love act as toilet paper --- believe it or not, you are necessary in his life --- and humbly love him anyway.

Death is NOT the End

I’ve written recently about eternal life, and my recently deceased friend, whose funeral I will attend tomorrow.  And I’ve written about how the saints and our families in heaven are all cheering for us, that we lead the lives we were born to live, so that we can soon join them in their happiness.  And so, I guess I wasn’t surprised to be reminded of this again this week.

Yesterday was a “shredding day” in my township.  The township provided a shredder truck and invited township residents to come with up to two boxes (boxes that they could lift) with paper materials they wished shredded.  And so, I undertook this week those things I should have done many, many, MANY years ago, but which always fell somehow to the back burner of things to do.  I rustled through packed file cabinets and drawers, pulling out old check stubs, tax returns, and legal papers which have long since passed their usefulness.  I boxed them and prepared them for the shredder.  (And afterwards looked around, sadly, at all that remained to be tossed.  We all accumulate so much over the years.)

At any rate, as I piled the old papers in the boxes, I noticed a pile of old letters which I had kept, so that “one day” I might re-read and enjoy them.  “One day,” I thought as I piled them in the box --- but then I stopped.  Perhaps today should be that day.  So, I put the letters on the couch and finished packing the boxes, and later on that afternoon I sat down to read long ago thoughts of my loved ones.

The letters were from my mom, dad, sister, nieces, and even one from my mentally retarded brother.  The envelopes were all dated in the early 1980’s.  Much of the words now seemed tedious to read, thoughts about what was thought important in those days.  Dad worried about his golf game; mom wondered what she should buy for dinner.  And sis always worried about her daughters, soon to be moving out of home and on with their lives.  And reading mom’s letters, I realized that this was a good week for reading them, this week of Mother’s Day, and the month we dedicate to Mary, God’s mother.

Many of mom’s letters closed with something like “go out and enjoy dinner on me,” or “get yourself something you want,” and I remembered that mom used to always enclose money with her letters, as though I were still her young son, just starting out in the world.  I was always her little boy, I guess.

It was in one of the last letters that I re-opened that I found the $25.  A twenty and a five, with a printing dates of nearly 50 years ago.  Honestly, my first thought was wondering if these were “antiques” with some old paper value, and then I thought about the shredding day.  No, these were just old paper, like any old papers.  There might be some value, like $25, to them, but their real value was in the memories, just like these old letters.  The $25 said mom loved me, forty years ago, when I cared for her in her old age, and even today.  And I am sure she still thinks about me.

When I finished reading, I put the old letters in the boxes to be shredded.  I’m not sure what to do with the $25.  It has more meaning to me than the letters.  And I was reminded of one of the most precious memories of my mom, which I will never forget.  In those years when I cared for her needs, she sometimes didn’t remember who I was during the day, but it seemed that she always remembered, as I tucked her in at night, to say to me, with a smile: “You know that I love you.”

And I am sure she still does.  And I’ll always love her.  Some memories will last a lifetime, and an eternity.

And Death Comes ...

I’ve been reading Michael Augros’ book: The Immortal in You.  He asks the question: What is different about the body which was alive one minute, and dead the next?  All the physical parts are still there, what changed?  And he goes on, through his entire book, to explain what science cannot explain:  Why is there life?

Why am I alive?  Why are you alive?  Why now?  Is it random evolutionary survival of the fittest?  Is there no purpose, no meaning, like the roll of the dice?  Sadly, an increasing number of people believe that life has no ultimate purpose, and they live for the moment, for THEIR moment, thinking their life, their happiness, matters to no one else, and only exists --- not unlike the life of an ant that exists.

A long-time friend of mine has died --- and he lives.  His wife, his two sons --- my Godsons --- know he lives.  His life DID have a purpose, here on earth, and in eternity.  And because of his life, the life of his wife, his sons, me, and so many others are changed for the better.  Michael Augros’ book does not just explain the physical difference between a live and a dead body, but between life and death:  from a scientific and philosophical point of view, an immortal soul exists.

My friend, Chris, lives on.  I used to talk to him when I visited or called, but now it’ll be much more convenient.  There’ll be sadness at not seeing that face or that smile again --- but I miss my youth, too.  But that’s okay.

Life goes on, and death comes, and life goes on.

You know, I never liked surprise parties or surprise gifts.  I always liked being prepared for things in my life, whether for a big meeting or for the weather outside.  I prepared for those things to make them better events for me.  The Boy Scouts had it right:  Be Prepared.  A life well-lived is not a series of random events, it’s one with a series of events we are prepared for.

And death comes.  Death is no random event, nor should it be a total surprise party; it comes to everyone.  It makes me sad to think that more and more people are choosing not to be prepared.  It will indeed be a big surprise for them.  Unprepared, how messy will their house be on that day?  What will they think when the most important boss they ever had shows up to their surprise meeting, and finds them not prepared?

I am sure my friend, Chris, was prepared for his big meeting.  He met with his Boss, got a huge promotion --- and a raise --- and has now moved to a distant, better location.  We probably won’t see each other for a long while, but when we do it, I am sure, it will be a big party.  I’m happy for him, and I look forward to our future meeting.  I’ll be prepared for it.  And I pray that every friend I had or have will also work on being prepared.  When we all meet again, oh, I want it to be such a big party.

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Grant Lord, that my heart may ever be
turned toward heaven where You await me.
-- Divine Intimacy, Meditation 182

Those were the first words I read tonight after writing these reflections on Chris.  I guess God wanted to remind me that He’ll be at the big party, too.  As a matter of fact, it’ll be at His house!

And so, it goes on: This morning I read my daily Gospel chapter and Psalm; my bookmarks were at Matthew 15 (Be prepared) and Psalm 145 (Give Him praise).

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Just a final thought I want to capture this day.  Today in my diocese the Catholic Church celebrates the Ascension of Jesus, and meanwhile our country celebrates Mother’s Day.  For me and many others, these celebrations are appropriately together, for our mothers have gone from this world, as Jesus did.  But He said: “I go to prepare a place for you,” and I trust our mothers are now recipients of His promise.  So today some go out to celebrate this day with their mothers, while others, like me, go into the chapel to celebrate this day with our mothers.  And as Catholics we celebrate one other person today, Mary, THE mother of all eternity; to her also I give thanks. 

Thank God, for all mothers, everywhere.