Heaven on Earth

I'm not much of a Jesus guy. I have made no secret of the fact that I'm not the ideal Catholic. Yes, I go to mass most Sundays. I'm a lector and my kids are alter servers. But I also have my own thoughts when it comes to some of the church's teachings - and by this I don't just mean the Catholic church. I'm pretty much suspicious of all religions where dogma, rules, and finger wagging are concerned.

So, although I go, I am definitely lacking a deep belief and serious commitment to God. My attendance might be called equal parts faith, tradition, and socialization.  There is a meditative quality to church attendance that I find valuable. A big hour each week where I am away from my phone and distractions and have to think about what kind of person I am and strive to be. It ain't Catholic guilt. Everyone should take time to evaluate their soul and compare their ideals to the life they actually live.  Jesus is good for that. He's got the message, but being God as well as a man is too big of a concept for this mere mortal. How can I identify with that? Therefore, I'm more likely to be drawn to people like St. Francis, St. Anthony, and St. Thomas. They lived here. They were human and fought the real fight. They lived Jesus' message and made the world a better place. Jesus was a good guy. But he came down for the original version of Undercover Boss. In the TV show the boss comes around, does the crappy job, but he gets to leave, heading back to his mansion after dropping some financial aid and opportunity on the underlings on his way out the door. Life is hard, but Jesus knew what was waiting for him after he died. Everyone else works on faith.

I see it like Pedro Cerrano in the movie, Major League. "Jesus. I like him very much. But he no help me hit curve ball." Who helps me? Those people who lived here and saw misery and suffering in their world and thought, this isn't right and I will do something about it.

With that in mind, looking around my living space, one would always be more likely to see reference to saints. Prayer cards with Saint Anthony tucked in my mirror. A statue of Saint Francis in the flower bed. That's why this framed 8 x 10 portrait of Jesus sitting in my kitchen seems out of place.

I was at a thrift store in Ithaca. No trip to a thrift store is complete without looking to see if there are good frames available. The Jesus portrait caught my eye as I could tell it had some age. It was the standard white guy, long haired hippie Jesus, and in the bottom corner was the date, 1941. Interesting enough to investigate further. I flipped it over to check the back and that is when I was sold.

There was a long handwritten message. You could call it a letter, even. The portrait was a gift from a couple to friends who had come to help them when they needed it most.


June 10, 1944

Goodlettsville, Tenn
You came to help take care of me when I had typhoid fever, "Our first mouse"remember?!!

Dearest Lola, Sim, and Laverne,
I can never thank you enough for the ready way in which you came when we needed and called you. I'm sorry we'd just moved and everything was out of place also my being sick made you have so much to do - Come again sometime and maybe it will be differently.
For All you've done to help us, for the grand long talks we've had and even for all the "baby food" you've fed me - well, thanks for it all. To me it's another fine expression of the grand - Big Sister, you've always been to me. For the three of you - good luck and God's Blessings.
This is only a picture - but the Christ whom it represents is the One whom will try to love and serve. My One prayer is that we all may have the courage and go forwardness found in His life and the expression of His face.

Love,
Thomas and Fannie

I love this letter. I love the age. I love the handwriting. But what I love most is that this moment and kindness and gratitude that may or may not be known by any currently living person was captured on the back of this yellowed musty portrait, and lives on here in my house.

Recall that I said I am Catholic, so naturally, I am by no means a biblical scholar or for that matter, even a reader. I may have made a stab at the gospels at some point, but I can't say that any sort of lasting detailed analysis ever took place. But in some class I once listened to someone describe the gospels in a way that really stuck with me. He said that Matthew, Mark, & Luke are all pretty much the same, while the Gospel of John is different. In John, Heaven isn't some far off place. Heaven is here and now and it is our job to make our place and time on Earth as heavenly as we can. I have no verses to back this up. Nonetheless, the concept has stayed with me over the years and seems more appealing because the need is right here, right now, on this planet. The power to help and to heal is in our hands. There is no shortage of people who need help. Lend you time, your voice, and your heart. They are there in your family, school, community, town, city, state, or all over the world. You can go as big or as small as you wish. That is not the Christian thing to do. It's the human thing to do. And when someone really needs it, the helping hand of a friend or even a stranger sure feels like it came from Heaven.

The Jesus portrait stays out. The picture and the letter are not just reminders of what I need to do, but also a reminder that how I live my life can change someone else's. I can have the power of a saint and I have the power to make Heaven right here on Earth. 

And so do you.

Won't Somebody Tell Me What the Women's March Was All About?!

A week has passed since the Women's March and I still see people saying they didn't know what it was about. I also see those seeking to misrepresent what it was, cherry picking photos and video clips seeking to define the protest in their own, less flattering, terms.


This is what the March wasn't. It was not about Hillary Clinton. Or the election. It wasn't about man bashing. It wasn't specifically about Donald Trump's misogyny or even necessarily about just women. Sure, with a million plus people around the world marching, chanting, giving speeches, & holding signs, one could find examples of each of those things. There is a lot of emotion out there. But none of those were the point and none of those themes were the specific reason I went. 

To me, the Women's March was about moving forward. 

Like I said, it wasn't just about women. It is an undisputed fact that historically in the United States, and in the world, that women, minorities, and non-heterosexuals have gotten the short end of the civil rights stick. There have been or are laws that legalize discrimination based on gender, race, and sexual orientation. Sometimes it isn't law, but just some good down home double standards that'll do. I find this to be unacceptable here in the 21st Century. 




I marched because Congress' majority party and the new president have in their actions and/or words, shown that they are at worst, hostile toward the rights of women, minorities, and the LGBT community, or at best apathetic toward them.

I marched because we cannot stagnate and we cannot move backward. There are those who will try to take us back and we will not just accept it. We will not give it a chance. Morally, we cannot just go along. We will unapologetically protest, march, yell, and post annoying political rants on Facebook to fight it every step of the way. 


Because until everyone is afforded the same rights and until every citizen gets to live the dream of life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness that Thomas Jefferson put forth in the Declaration of Independence, then America isn't living up to its promise and we won't be the ideal nation that we've set out to be.

That's what the Women's March was about, Charlie Brown.