Baxter's Blog

Lenten Scratches: Finding a Peaceful Perspective

2012-03-09T00:00:00.000-08:00

Baxter was making a fuss the other evening before bedtime. He was banging around the house, dashing in and out of the rooms. He was staring at something in the hallway that set him off. At first I thought it might be a mouse or a spider that got into the house. He toys with such critters if he can, running after them, trapping them or trying to throw them with his paw, and finally, he leaves them for more exciting distractions. But this manic episode was different. He wouldn’t stop. He kept getting more and more excited. He wasn’t giving up on whatever it was that peaked his interest until it was conquered, or I removed it.

Because I wanted to get to bed, I decided to get to the bottom of this ruckus. At first, I couldn’t figure it out. No signs of a critter, no body parts left anywhere, no strange sounds except Baxter’s, so what could be setting him in such a frenzy? Then I spotted it. The strange intruder who set Baxter on his mad antics around the house was a twisty-tie. Yes, you read that correctly. One of those little coated metal wires used to close garbage bags or plastic food bags was the source for his crazy runs, jumps and grunts. He was so easily set off by something that amounted to nothing. A flip of the waste can lid, and it was all over.

We sometimes get excited by the smallest and silliest things as well. A garbage bag left in the house, dishes left on the table, five minutes late leaving for work, a traffic light turning red, eye glasses misplaced, a cell phone left in the office, a greeting missed by a friend or colleague, whatever it might be, we use it as the earthquake to set off our personal tsunami. We let our anger and frustration wash over everything and everyone in our path at times like these, and we start drawing cosmic conclusions about the matter with words like “always,” “never,” “why” and the accusatory “YOU!” We blow whatever happened out of proportion, and make it a personal affront to us, to the responsibility and respect due us. No reasoning or conciliatory talk gets to us at such times. We just want to ventilate and feel justified in doing so. Like Baxter when he is strung out, we are simply out of control.

So what do we do about such scenes when they occur? We can’t do another take and discard the first reaction, even if we want to do so. Once the words are spoken and the theatrics are played there is no erasing them. We have to deal with the consequences and learn from them.

Dealing with the consequences means we want to repair any damage our harsh words created. “I’m sorry” goes a long way to fill in the gaps our rash judgment created. It’s an invitation to give me another chance, to start over, to forget the drama and live normally again. What our anger shut down in our relationship with another, our apology reopens for the free flow of exchanging thoughts, feelings, concerns and beliefs. We begin to learn again, and what we learn is perspective. We made a mountain out of a mole hill. We forgot the big picture of the person before us. We reduced the moment and the relationship to what just happened, rather than seeing it as a part of a history of happenings that constitutes a person’s full character and our relationship with them.

Lent is a good time to mend the tears we have created between each other and between ourselves and God. “I’m sorry” is a simple sentence with profound meaning and effect. It diffuses our sometimes over-charged lives together, and puts the pieces back into the places where they belong. It helps us appreciate each other for the unique goodness we each bring to the task of living. It calms, heals and re-creates our love for each other. The monsters we imagine are shown for what they are, little annoyances that are best discarded.

It’s just a “twisty-tie,” Baxter. Go back to sleep. We all need to rest in the Lord this Lent.

Lenten Scratches: Fasting

2012-03-02T00:00:00.000-08:00

Baxter should be on a diet. He does eat “weight control” food, but all it seems to do is maintain his portly physique. I have tried lowering the amount he eats each day to below the half cup allotment, but then he becomes intolerable to live with. Between the mournful cries and the incessant rubs on my legs and paws to my arms, I can’t do anything else but give him attention. Of course, that’s the point of these antics. “Wear him down until he can’t stand it any longer and gives up more grub.” Cats are always conniving to get their way. And as his weight maintenance shows, Baxter usually does get his way.

Dieting is a part of our culture in America. It is constantly changing with the latest fad diet, but it never seems to go away. Maybe because the statistics tell us we are overweight as a nation, we are always looking for the next way to fix it. But we want to do so without any pain and sacrifice, without any significant changes to our life style, while retaining all the pleasures fattening foods give us minus the calories. We keep looking for the “perfect” remedy for our weight problem, but none seems to last. So we go from fad diet to fad diet without losing a pound, but confident that the simple solution is just around the next weight loss commercial.

Lent does not call us to diet. It calls us to fast. There’s a big difference. We diet to become physically thinner, but we fast to become spiritually richer. We fast to heighten our awareness of many aspects of our life where God has a point to make for us. Fasting shows us that we don’t need all that we think we need, not all the food or possessions or pleasures we think make us happy. We need less because they contain so much more than we take account of when we use them. Savoring a meal makes it last longer and satisfies us more than fast food consumption that quells the hunger in ten minutes, but brings it back in two hours. Having a few quality products around to use or wear allow us to appreciate workmanship where human labor cooperates with the Creator rather than mass production that often makes the worker into a machine for profit. Picking one’s pleasures allow us to absorb their beauty and gratification more deeply as a sign of God’s goodness and grace, rather than simply indulging ourselves in fleeting satisfactions than wear off quickly, leaving us looking for more.

We fast to intensify our appetites so that less can truly be more, as we grow to understand that a rich life comes with the quality it holds rather than the quantity it amasses. We don’t need as much as we think we do, but we do need more from what we have by experiencing it as God’s gift given for us to know how generous God is. Finally, fasting comes down to making us grateful for what life brings us, even the bitter fruit, for it all nourishes our soul through the mystery of how God saves us.

Baxter should go on a diet, but he probably won’t. He likes the satisfaction food gives him too much, and he doesn’t intend to lose it. He is a slave to his creaturely desires. We need to fast a little this Lent from food or possessions or creaturely pleasures to free us from such desires and to know how good God is to us. Then we will be ready for the glorious feast of Easter, where God took a criminal, thought the least among us, and showed Him as the Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

Lenten Scratches: Growing Older

2012-02-25T11:23:00.001-08:00

Baxter had a birthday a couple of weeks ago. Actually, it was his assigned birthday. I assigned it to him. You see, the shelter where I got Baxter told me he was about four months old when he came to my house, but they didn’t know the exact day of his birth. So I counted back four months, and looked for a date I would remember around that time. I picked February 14, Valentine’s Day, as Baxter’s official birthday. I count his age from that day each year. He is eleven this year.

I have noticed a few changes in Baxter as the years have gone by. He feigns to scratch the furniture less (no front claws). His play periods are much shorter than they were when he was a young cat. But one thing has increased in Baxter’s routine. He is much more affectionate in his later years. Almost daily now, often twice a day, Baxter crawls upon my lap, purring away, and circles around until he finds the spot where he lies down for a short nap. He gets stroked on the back and a belly scratch, and he then usually falls asleep for a few minutes, sometimes soundly, and sometimes I fall asleep as well. Then, all of a sudden, he jumps up, gets down from my lap, and goes to one of his many favorites spots for a long term rest. The brief interlude with me seems less about sleeping and more about connecting. He just wants to be sure I’m still close to him, that we share our living space, and that I’m not going any where to leave him behind. In his older years, Baxter has come to appreciate companionship and knowing he’s not alone.

That is something we all need to ponder as we count our passing birthdays as well. It would look a little ridiculous to try to get into the lap of our close friends and family. We have accumulated too many pounds over the years for that. Yet, it is anything but silly to appreciate the closeness the years have brought as our lives together gather more and more memories. That is how we grow close, living together long enough to share memories. The experiences may not always be pleasant ones. Intimacy isn’t created only by the triumphs and proud moments we share. It also comes through the defeats and failures we have known together, using our shared expressions of pain and sorrow to divide the burden between us and support each other in the process. When we add it all up we get a summary of the human condition, and if we reflect on our stories a bit, we gain a little wisdom from the accumulated mix we share.

Jesus’ disciples discovered this closeness with Him as they realized what He had done for them in sharing His life, death and resurrection. Four of them wrote their reflections on this story in what we know now as the gospels. They all carried forward the memories in their preaching, teaching and sharing of the Spirit with others interested in His story. Disciples are intimate companions of the Lord Jesus. He knows them, and they seek to know Him. The memories of their lives are intertwined with His so closely that their stories come together. A disciple’s life is more than his or her biography. It unveils how Christ is living still with His disciples today — magnifying their joys as a reflection of God’s glory, sharing their pain and loss as the extension of His own cross, and transforming the whole of their lives as the promise of new and eternal life. Disciples share their lives with the life of the Lord Jesus, and the memories that are created generate a closeness with God that we come to count on and trust.

We are all a year older from last Ash Wednesday, and our life journeys will continue to add years until they end. Growing older doesn’t have to be a threat to us, if we come to appreciate the closeness with God and each other we have gained through the years. Lent is a good time to take stock of this closeness, and to take steps to grow closer still. Take the time to sift through the memories of your life to uncover the divine companion who was with you all along. He is with you still. Invite Him into the lap of your life and rest assured in His love.

Lenten Scratches: Reading the Subtle Signs

2012-02-16T19:41:00.000-08:00

I was away for a week recently, and during that break, a friend of mine gave me a book about cats. It presented questions that any cat owner would want to ask his or her cat. For instance, “What does it mean when your eyes are dilated and your ears are laying back?” The answer: the cat is anxious and upset about something, ready to run or pounce. On a contrary note, what does it mean when Baxter is fully stretched out on his back, sleeping soundly? Answer: this is a sign that he feels safe and secure. After reading the whole book with all its questions, I concluded that Baxter is one happy cat with little anxiety and much contentment.

Too bad we don’t have such a book for each other; a guide on how to read the signs we give about how the day is going, what our moods are, what brings us joy or causes us stress and frustration. However, after a while, we do learn some of these signals if we pay attention. We get to know what sets each other off. We can learn the connections between what happens, or what we make happen, and how others respond. We learn what buttons to push in each other to make us happy or sad, secure or anxious, peaceful or angry. Sometimes we may misread the moment, but for the most part, after we have lived with each other long enough and care enough to be concerned about the other’s responses, we figure it out. It is a key to living together.

God gives off signs to us as well. In fact, there is also a book that helps us interpret these signs. It’s called the Bible. As we enter into Lent this week, we need to take note of what the signs of God are in our lives and our world, and how to interpret them. Taking time to look for them because we care about our faith, and making room in our busy schedules to learn more about how to understand them is a vital part of our Lenten renewal. Two things can help in this regard. First, we need to pay attention to the signs. God is often subtle in His messages to us. Rarely do they come in lightning bolts or extraordinary visions. They come with the twists of the day, the conversations we share, the routine prayers we say. With the crowded lives we live, we are often just going from one thing to another, going through the motions to get on with it, and we miss the quieter messages, the signs of grace in our midst. To get God’s point, we need to slow down and be quiet.

Second, we need to read the book. The Bible is a compendium of thousands of years of people’s experiences of God expressed in various literary forms — stories, histories, laws, poems, letters, and special pieces. As we come to understand and appreciate these treasures through the lens of our tradition of faith, we see that God’s work of loving and saving us continues today in our lives and world. The scriptures lay out the track record of God’s ways, to help us recognize and understand the continuing signs of His presence and power today.

It is not just the ways of cats that appear mysterious to us. God’s ways are much more profoundly mysterious, and so they are often missed or dismissed as unintelligible. Take the time to stop, read, reflect and understand these ways a little more fully this Lent. There’s an added bonus for us in this Lenten exercise. As we learn to understand God’s signs better, we learn to live with each other more carefully and appreciate each other more fully.

Baxter's Cat Charm

2012-02-11T00:00:00.000-08:00

Cats are real charmers, and Baxter is no exception. When he wants something, he really works at buttering me up. For instance, feeding time is grooming time, and I am the object of his attention and affection. He rubs up against my pant leg with a long, drooling meow, and then he sits with longing eyes, begging for relief from his feigned starvation. Of course, once he gets what he wants, he forgets about me and concentrates on the real object of his charm, his stomach. I am left with pant legs covered with cat hair.

We can do the same to each other, but in more subtle and devious ways. We can use each other to get what we want. Maybe it's a new job or a promotion; maybe it's a personal favor; maybe it's our desire to be among the popular and influential. We can use our relationships to flatter each other's ego. Then we give another person what he or she wants whether it is right or not, or we tell others what they want to hear whether or not it is the truth. Whatever it takes is what we offer to get what we want from them. We play an unspoken game with each other that appears as one thing on the surface but is another underneath. What appears to be esteem, respect and appreciation is really a disguise for self-centeredness and selfish interests. The test for this kind of deception happens when either party in the relationship changes positions or finds another person who might serve their desires better. The relationship dissolves, and what was thought to be genuine affection is revealed as simply convenient and manufactured human dynamics.

God is the test for genuine love and honest closeness in our human connections. God's love has no agenda but the good of the other. God grows closer to us by dealing with whatever we dish up in our lives. Whether we are faithful or sinful, whether we succeed or fail, win or lose, God remains constant in His intentions with us and for us. He seeks the best for us. He wants us to thrive and grow. He lifts us in His love to see ourselves differently, to see that we are valuable and esteemed for who we are as God's children. We are precious in His sight no matter our condition. We don't have to gain or lose a thing to merit God's love. God made the connection from the first moment of our existence, and while we may ignore or disavowal the relationship from our side for what we think is a better, more self-serving agenda, God stays where He has always been, loving us for the person He created us to be, without condition or reservation. God's charm comes from this unwavering constancy to seek our best and transform our worst by His healing and forgiveness.

Too bad we don't charm each other this way, instead of all the games we play to gain each other's favor. We love each other but often with so many strings attached that we act like puppeteers, trying to make each other do and say what we want for our advantage. Our charm is often deceptive. God's charm is loving, true and good. Trust in what God can do for you.

Baxter's Fan Following

2012-02-04T00:00:00.000-08:00

Baxter doesn’t seem to be a fan of any team in any sport. He watches some of the games with me, but with a disinterest that often gives way to full out sleep. No cheering meows, no jumping up in excitement, no bad chirps for a bad play, he just lies there wondering, I think, “What is all the fuss about?” A pinch of cat nip or, better still, a bowl of kibble, and he’s full tilt ready to do battle for the spoils. But a contest on some field of play produces little to no reaction from him. Except, of course, if I yell too loudly for some fabulous play or fouled up performance, then Baxter jumps out of his stupor, and once he realizes I am the source of the noise, turns in disgust to resume his shattered dream in peace once again. It takes a lot to be a fan; more than Baxter wants to invest.

A fan must be enthusiastic. He or she is emotionally invested in the team they support. A great game can give a lift to the whole day, and conversely, a bad game puts a damper on the rest of one’s waking hours. A fan isn’t merely “interested” in the game. The day revolves around this event. The energy builds as the anticipation mounts. That’s why there is a ritual to the pre-game activities — tailgating, bands and fight songs, team gear, meeting up with fellow fans. It all contributes to the hype and charges up the faithful.

Which leads to the second quality of a true fan, he or she is loyal. A fair weather fan is no fan at all. The test of one’s blood line for a team is how you act when the team is in a slump. While you might get upset and want to fire the coach or strangle a certain player, you don’t walk away from the team. You stay with them through thick and thin, despite frustrations and disappointments, when the statistics are negative and the record shows it, when they do stupid things that lose the game. A true fan stands by them, and starts over with all the hype for the next game. How can someone do this, especially when the slump becomes a slide that seems to have no bottom to it? They never lose hope. The next play, the next game, the next season will turn it around, and true to this hope, he or she stands by, stays with, cheers on the team.

God needs fans in our world today. It sometimes seems like He’s losing the games of life with so much of the culture of death all around us. The right to an abortion remains the law of the land, as does capital punishment in many places. The frail elderly are often seen as a burden rather than precious pieces of fine, aged humanity. The poor are blamed for their condition rather helped out of it, and world peace is often dismissed as the fantasy of the naïve rather than the only practical course for humans to thrive. God is behind all of these contests for respecting and uplifting human life, but sometimes He must wonder where all of His fans have gone. So little cheering for these causes is often heard, or if it is heard, the cheers come from fair weather fans who pick and choose when and what they will support on God’s team. We are against abortion but for capital punishment. We are concerned for the elderly, but the poor are on their own. Peace is for the radicals, but war is for the patriots. Thinking this way is like cheering for pass plays but not for runs in football, or concentrating on the pitching game but forgetting about dropped balls in the outfield. A true fan supports the team in every aspect of its play, appreciates that each position contributes to the game effort, and remembers that usually only a fully balanced squad can sustain itself all the way to a championship.

God needs enthusiastic and loyal fans in His game of saving human life in all its conditions. Fans expect the team to be in condition, play smart, and give it their all. Our Trinitarian God always does that. We have to do our part in showing that we stand by, stay with and cheer on all God’s efforts in our world. We can’t give up, for the season for this sport is all that remains of human history. The game rituals are the sacraments we celebrate to prepare and strengthen us for the contest. The championship trophy is life everlasting. So stay with God’s team and cheer on His victory over sin and death in all its contests.

Baxter, wake up!

Baxter's Winter Interlude

2012-01-28T07:24:00.000-08:00

I notice that Baxter, like many of us, gets a bit lethargic in the winter. He stares out the window, but without any high alert signals set off. There are no stimuli for the hunting instinct, no birds, rabbits, squirrels, other cats to get the juices running for a fantasy hunt. On grey days, Baxter settles into one of his many nap spots and stays put for long stretches. As he has gotten older, he now hugs the heat registers on especially cold days, snuggling the warm air so tightly that I sometimes worry about his catching himself on fire. Winter is a season when he slows down, draws in and hopes for the best. He sometimes cries at the garage door to be let out, but as soon as I open the door and he feels the cold air, he turns and runs. A garage adventure can wait until spring.

Winter affects us in similar ways. We stay indoors much more. We do what we need to do to keep life going — work, grocery shopping, transporting the kids, shoveling snow — but we often pull back, settle in and snuggle in the cocoons we create to feel secure. We want to be safe and warm when the climate gets cold and threatening, and we do little to break out of this survival mode. We look for how we can exercise the least effort to get by and conserve our energy. There is often little to excite us in this season. It’s a waiting game until spring.

Shakespeare wrote about the winter of our discontent when intrigue and sinister human motives darken every encounter between persons. Much of the human drama hinges on this mood. Wintry moments even find a place in the Gospel story. Recall the controversies with the religious officials, the plot to betray Jesus involving one of His own disciples, and the hopelessness of Calvary and its aftermath. Whatever the climate was at those times, the human temperature was cold and dark towards the Son of God. It was a spiritual winter for many, and they were freezing out the love of God incarnate in their midst.

Does this kind of winter get inside of us as well? Do we just refuse to look for a bright side to life rooted in the God who loves us? Do we pull into ourselves for security and warmth and refuse to confront the cold in ourselves and others? If we do, then we cannot grow spiritually. In winter, life goes dormant. It stops expanding, reproducing and bearing fruit. It sleeps, waiting for a better time, and if that time does not come, it may remain sterile for the season or even die. The fruitful soul is a warm one, no matter what the temperature is around it. It takes in the love of God however it appears from whomever it is offered. It refuses to accept the cold environment of human sinfulness but instead creates a climate of forgiveness, acceptance and hospitality for anyone who will receive it. This is the way Jesus transformed the winter of Calvary into the springtime of Easter, and He has empowered us to do the same.

So no excuses for the winter doldrums. Reach out and be about the task of letting the love of God work in and through you. It may not melt snow, but it can melt hard hearts, closed minds and selfish spirits, our own and others.

Baxter's Weak Spot

2012-01-21T00:00:00.000-08:00

Baxter has a weak spot. All cats do. Well, maybe it is better termed a “sensitive area.” It’s the belly. Most cats will not expose their bellies to scratches and petting. I thought the reason was that it was too much of a “dog thing," and after all, they are not dogs. But I learned that biologically cats’ bellies are very sensitive for them, and they protect them aggressively.

Baxter was that way for a while but soon he changed. As I told you in a previous column, when I come home after a few hours away, he comes to the door, falls on the floor in front of me and rolls over to have his belly gently scratched. He waits for me to respond, and he starts to purr and purr when I do. It has become the normal greeting ritual we use to say, “Hello, I’m back home. I missed you.” After a half minute or so of that, he jumps up and runs either to his dish for a treat or to the spigot for a drink, depending upon his fancy. Life quickly resumes its normal routine.

Sometimes we need to show our soft underside to each other as well. The work-a-day world is fast-paced, aggressive, hard-nosed and demanding. We have to be alert and on guard to keep up with the competition and make a success of our lives. We show our strengths, and we try to hide our weaknesses for fear that someone will find them out and take advantage of us. We want to look good, speak properly, act professionally and impress those who can help us to get ahead. “You scratch my back, and I’ll scratch yours.” We work out deals to our advantage, or at least, to our mutual benefit. We trade our strengths to win.

So is it any wonder we often don’t feel at home with each other and our world? Home is a safe place where we don’t have to worry about gaining advantage or getting ahead. When we feel at home with each other, we’re not worried about showing our soft under belly. We trust each other not to take advantage of our vulnerabilities, but to draw close around them as the glue that bonds us as family and friends. Home is where we can be our complete selves—intelligent, strong and competent, but also sensitive, weak and caring. We are accepted for all of it and loved because of it.

God makes a home for each of us this way. He wants us to use and develop our talents and gifts, but He also loves us in our weakness and sin. He knows we are not perfect, and it is precisely here that He shows His deepest love. As Paul writes, “while we were still sinners Christ died for us.” To open ourselves to God’s love and to love each other in God, we have to grow in our trust enough to admit and share our weaknesses and vulnerabilities, not to justify them, but to heal and save them.

Nothing in my estimation is as smoothing as a cat’s purr. It communicates a sense of well-being and peace that is deep and satisfying. Purrs happen when someone discovers how to touch gently the cat’s sensitive spots. A light scratch on Baxter’s belly and his purr tells me I’m home again. In a different but similar way, our patient understanding can help each other to feel God’s light touch on our vulnerable spots and know His healing presence. Then, instead of purring, maybe we can begin to feel at home again with each other.

Baxter's Misled Appetite

2012-01-14T00:00:00.000-08:00

Baxter’s appetite is led by his nose. If it smells yummy to him, he wants it. If I am cooking something whose aroma catches his fancy, he will start crying for a taste before it is out of the oven or off the stove top. He sits in the kitchen with his nose in the air sniffing, hoping to catch a delectable whiff of something that he can con me into sharing. Usually, I am strong and refuse his groping paw or plaintive meows or begging eyes. However, once in a while I weaken and give into his beckoning. Generally, this is a mistake. Except for fish and a little chicken, Baxter’s stomach doesn’t take to table food very well, and the evidence to prove this point is normally brought up on the floor within a half hour of consumption. Still, the clockwork reaction doesn’t stop him the next time from sniffing the air for what he thinks is scrumptious and begging for a sample. His desires are stronger than the reasonable conclusions he or I should draw from previous experience. At times, we both ignore our better sense and give in to the desire of the moment. Then what we think will be a tasty pleasure, more often turns out to be a smelly mess on the floor.

Like Baxter, we too can get caught up in the appeal of earthly desires, and these reach beyond the craving for fattening foods. Our ambition can drive us to lose touch with friends and family and our values just to get ahead in life. Our greed can entice us to cut corners on ethical practices or risk our basic resources on a gamble to get rich quick. Our sexual passions can lead us to abandon life-long commitments to feel the fire again. Whatever is driving us can ruin us, if we do not channel our desires to purposes bigger than ourselves and the moment before us. We need to stop and think. What are we doing and does it make sense in the big picture of our life?

Our decisions have consequences beyond ourselves. It is not simply a matter of what “I” want, but what effect my desires if carried out will have on me, those I love, and the larger community where I live. We are not isolated atoms, orbiting alone around each year of our lives. We are part of a universe of persons whose lives intersect for good or ill according to the terms we draw for our relationships. If the only concern is me, me, me, then we may feel good in our moment of satisfaction, but we may end up sick and regretful when the full picture of damaged trust, betrayed loyalty and uncertain reliability is revealed. The mess of damaged relationships is far greater and more long-lasting than any physical discharge. It is a scarred soul and lost opportunities for grace and depth of meaning to life.

Baxter can’t help himself when it comes to tempting food aromas. His instincts kick in, and he is a slave to his passions. We have more with which to work. God gave us a mind to judge the reasonable course in facing a decision, and a heart to care for our commitments to each other. Head and heart together can guide our passions to drive us to a depth of meaning for our lives that is both mysterious and enlightening. Use your head. Respect your heart. Filled with faith, they will not let us down, but will lead us to a holy life.

Baxter's Pet Therapy

2012-01-07T00:00:00.000-08:00

Baxter isn’t my first cat. He’s my third. The first one I had only for a few months. I was a summer graduate student at The Catholic University of America in Washington, D.C., and this little kitten was left on the front steps of the building where I was living for the summer. Since I was headed back to the seminary that fall, I couldn’t keep “Xenobia” beyond the summer term. Thankfully, I was able to find her a good home before I departed.

My second cat was “Gatto”, and we fell into each other’s lives as well. I moved into a new residence, and the previous occupants left their cat behind. At first, Gatto and I had a stand off, testing each other’s stubbornness. She wouldn’t abandon the back porch where I always came into the house from the garage, and I wouldn’t pay any attention to her meows as I was unlocking the back door. Finally, after months of this game of chicken, who will blink first, I succumbed. It was a blustery, cold winter night, and I got home rather late. She was plaintively crying in her usual spot, and I just couldn’t close the door on her in that frigid environment. She walked into the kitchen, down to the basement, and, well, she never left until she went to cat heaven.

Baxter was my choice — sort of. After Gatto died I greatly missed having a pet, but with all the surplus critters in the world, I couldn’t bring myself to get a designer cat. So I went to the cat house at Westmoreland County humane shelter and viewed the population. There were many from which to choose. Big, adult ones and little kittens, males and females, long hair and short hair, every color variety you could think of, all were up for adoption to a good home. But again, I didn’t really choose Baxter, he chose me. When I entered the “kitten room” for a look around, ten critters must have come over to me, but only one crawled up my leg crying to be held. That was Baxter. (Actually, his shelter name was “Elmer”, but I knew that had to change. He was much too coy and charming for that handle.) After I went home for a day to think about it, I returned and the rest is history. Baxter and I have been together for over ten years.

Pets teach us so much about ourselves and what grounds our lives. They force us to be disciplined about their care. Keep the litter clean if you don’t want a problem. Feed them good food to stay healthy. Respect their routines and their space, and they will manage themselves well. Pay attention to them with play and conversation and show them affection, and they will become faithful companions and loving creatures. We shape our responses to each other. Training is a two way street where we teach each other how to get the best from each other by giving our best to each other. Patience and perseverance are the hallmarks of loving someone enough to help them learn how to live with us, and us with them. Baxter and I taught each other how to give in to the other’s preferences without losing our self-respect. For instance, he knows not to jump onto the counters or table, and I know to turn the spigot on for him to get a drink. We try to please each other because we care for each other.

I mention these rules of living with my pet, because when I thought about them, they work for living with other creatures as well. If we want to learn to love each other, we need to follow the same basic rules. Not that other persons are our pets. We certainly can grow into a deeper and more reciprocal relationship with our friends and family than with our pets. But this doesn’t happen in some kind of esoteric and disembodied way. Our love for each other needs to be disciplined, respectful of each other, mutually efficacious, accommodating to each other’s wishes without being subservient, and patient and persevering. These qualities don’t come easily in a relationship, but without them, our relationships are superficial and one-sided. We get lost in each other rather than freed to be ourselves due to the confidence that only genuine love can bestow.

Today, many programs use pet therapy to get people to engage in their lives again, to overcome depression, isolation or the lethargy that convalescence can breed. God can use pet therapy to teach us how He loves us and how to love each other in God. He chooses us but we have to respond. He won’t give up on us, but we can’t give up on Him either. It takes a disciplined regimen to learn how to love God as He first loves us, with mutual respect and freedom to be ourselves. But the sacrifices it takes to care about God in our life and our world contribute much more to our living than they demand of us. They give us a faithful, divine companion whose relationship provides a key to what is true, good and valuable among the many choices we face in life. This direction will never lead us astray, but rather keeps us safe in the loving home God provides for us when we learn how to live with Him.

Three cats have taught me some things about caring for other living creatures. Three persons in one God can teach all of us much more about living together as companions on a journey to eternal life. Take God home with you today and rescue a life — your own.

Baxter's New Year's Resolution

2011-12-31T00:00:00.000-08:00

Baxter is a creature of habit. You can set your watch by his daily routine. Eating, bathroom relief, naps, serious sleep, catnip sessions, snacks and brushings all fit into a very set pattern that may have minor adjustments, but no large variations. Try to change the order of life or the time for a daily habit, and Baxter isn't happy. His routine rules his life. It makes him feel safe and secure, and without it, he feels lost and afraid.

We all follow routines and habits. They make things easier at times. We don't have to think about what to do when; we just do it. A daily schedule helps keep life in order. Good habits preserve health, balance and a sense of well being. They can make some things in life effortless, and they assure that skills, attitudes and commitments we have made are preserved and grow deeper through the constancy of their regular practice. Good habits are an important part of being good.

Faith involves certain habits as well. Regular prayer and worship, telling the truth, keeping promises, helping others, admitting our faults and failings, sharing what we have are all part of a faithful Catholic Christian life, and we need to make them routine in our living. Worshipping once or twice a year or only on special family occasions will not form a person of prayer. Telling the truth only when it is convenient or pleasant won't make an honest person. Service done out of an obligation and generosity offered to impress others won't form a kind heart and magnanimous spirit. False humility to get another's pity or undeserved pardon isn't genuine sorrow for sin. It is easy to do almost anything once to get attention or satisfy a requirement, but it is difficult to make the habits of Gospel living a routine that fits hand in glove with how we conduct ourselves each day. It only comes with practice, practice, and more practice. These practices wear a groove of virtue into our character in time without our noticing the conditioning that's taking place. It just becomes who we are.

As we come to this New Year, what habits do we need to develop to become the persons God wants us to be? What do we have to take on, and what do we have to eliminate from our lives to be shaped differently than we are now? Our transformation won't happen over night. It's a slow, methodical change. We can't look for results too soon, but we can look for new routines to mark the course where we want to go. Then it's a matter of sticking to the new schedule and resisting excuses for not following it. It calls for making adjustments to stay on the path and marking progress one step at a time. It means valuing the accomplishment of each exercise we do, even if it didn't register some specific concrete result each time. Remember, the effects are often imperceptible in the immediate moment, but show themselves in the fruits of a whole lifetime. We are looking for long term gains in this investment, not for a get rich quick scheme that leaves us bankrupt in the long run.

Baxter doesn't like his habits disrupted, and for good reason. He knows that the important things in life are also fragile. They need constant care and attention. Good habits protect the values and beliefs we cherish with the hard shell of an established routine and disciplined schedule. It looks easy when our habits are in place for a while, but it takes some effort to start the practice and stay with it at first. So start today. Take on one new practice in the faith. Eventually, it will become second nature to you, God's nature, that makes us over into His children, disciples and friends. Happy New Year from Baxter and me!

Merry Christmas!

2011-12-25T00:00:00.000-08:00

Some words provoke a reaction from Baxter. "Treats!", "Yums!", "Nip!" (for catnip) bring an immediate alert response. "Where is it? Let me at it!" Other words bring a calmer, more studied acknowledgement. For instance, when I say his name, "Baxter," he usually just flips his tail from one side to the other. Repeat the name, and the tail flips back. (That game can go on endlessly.) "Do you want to get brushed?" provokes a slower response still. Unlike the run for food, he meanders into the next room for his nightly grooming before bed. Words mean different things to Baxter, and he responds accordingly.

"Christmas" is a word that provokes a reaction in most of us. For some, it is a sense of anticipation, excitement and wonder. This is a season of good surprises, and we can't wait to see what's in store for us. For others, it is a sense of nostalgia. Memories of holidays past often fill us with a bittersweet feeling that mixes a sense of gratitude for what was with a sense of sadness that it is no more. For still others, Christmas brings hope and joy and peace. In the darkest part of the year, we see lights decorating our homes, window candles inviting visitors, and foods filling our senses with pleasure and satisfaction. Things aren't as bad as we think. We can get through the dark times, if we invite each other in and share the sweetness and warmth that we know how to create.

"Christmas" has a special meaning in our faith. It takes in the human responses we have to the season, but now it directs them to our God as the source and fulfillment of these desires. When God draws near, many surprises are in store for us. Think of the wonder and excitement underlying the Christmas story in the scriptures. Think further of the unexpected teachings, words of forgiveness and miracles in Jesus' ministry. Then, recall the end of the story. Darkness and pain seem to rule the day on Calvary, and the disappointment and sadness in the upper room is overwhelming for the disciples huddled in fear. Hopes are dashed over what could have been, and bittersweet memories linger of what they shared once in His ministry.

But then there is light. The glare that blinds the soldiers at the tomb says something great is happening here. The Risen Lord invites Himself into the disciples' locked hide-away, and He greets them with "Peace," gives them the power of forgiveness, and sends them out to continue His mission. Finally, He shares food with them, rich and special food, for they "recognized Him in the breaking of the bread."

The mysteries of our faith wrap around each other and wrap our lives with them. Christmas only takes on its full meaning when it includes the whole story of the mystery of our salvation, from conception to death and new life. Christmas gives us clues to where it is all going, and if we follow these clues through darkness into the light of new life, we will find a deeper meaning to the word than we can ever gather from special presents or childhood memories alone. God comes close at Christmas and begins the great journey of our salvation through the wilderness of our human condition. But the story doesn't end there. Finally, He comes home with us, not as a helpless infant to be coddled and amused, but as the Lord of Life to be followed and worshiped. The Christmas Eucharist brings this all together and creates a holiday fair that feeds our souls.

Some words can say a lot, if we understand them and respond properly. "Christmas" is that kind of word. From Baxter and me, "MERRY CHRISTMAS!"

Learn from the Trip

2011-12-18T00:00:00.000-08:00

Baxter doesn't like to travel. From the second the car door closes, he begins to cry, and he continues his non-stop, whining meow until we reach our destination. Now, Baxter hasn't traveled very far or extensively. He averages a trip or two a year, and these are usually to the vet for a check up. He doesn't like his doctor. It's nothing personal. She pokes and prods him with various instruments, and she always comments on his weight. So is it any wonder that he dislikes the visits, and the trip to get there? Baxter is not a good traveler and a worse patient.

Christmas has a travel log built into its story. Mary and Joseph leave Nazareth for Bethlehem. Then they leave Bethlehem for Egypt. After a while, they return to Nazareth, and stay put for the most part except for an occasional trip to Jerusalem for the Jewish holidays. The holy family doesn't have fond memories associated with their travels either. No room in the inn, Herod out to get the baby, and the youthful Jesus getting lost in the temple environs mark the stories associated with their sojourns. Yet, if they weren't on the road, God's hand in their lives might not be seen so clearly.

Travel places us in unfamiliar situations which may make us uncomfortable and anxious at times. But these same situations provide an opportunity for us to see ourselves and our lives differently. Angels and shepherds have a message that is heard in Bethlehem about the promise of this child born there. A dream guides Joseph to take his young family into Egypt, and he learns of God's providence and care. In different circumstances, Jesus' remarks to Mary and Joseph in the temple might seem insolent rather than prescient and wise beyond His years. When we are on the move, we grasp truths we may miss otherwise because they get lost in the familiar and routine.

So whether or not we are leaving home to celebrate Christmas, we need to allow the stories of this season to take our minds and hearts to new places where we see ourselves, each other and our world differently. We need to get over our anxiety with the unfamiliar to discover the excitement of new possibilities when God takes flesh in our midst. We need to move through the dangers of this world with God's guidance showing the way, and not just to follow our same old ways of deceit, deception and destruction. We need to be willing to place each other in a new context, so that we can hear each other differently and discover the wisdom we may share. We need to allow Christmas to move us, so that we can be changed by the celebrations of this season.

The doctor of the soul awaits our coming to His office for a visit, but we have to travel to get there. Don't whine about the trip, but learn to enjoy it. Don't resist His poking and prodding, but allow Him to know the state of your soul. Be a good traveler and a better patient in the spiritual life. In this way, we can teach Baxter a few things for a change.

A Simple Sense of Ourselves

2011-12-11T00:00:00.000-08:00

I admit it. I am hard on Baxter sometimes. I know I make a big deal about his demanding attitude when he is hungry. But come to think about it, he really lives a rather simple life. He needs shelter, food and sleep, and he likes generous quantities of the last two. He is rather ingenious about his shelter. He likes soft surfaces for sleep, but he also enjoys the cool, hard floor tile to roll on his back and get a free scratch. His needs are straightforward and simple. He doesn’t ask for much beyond them.

Advent is a time to reflect on the simple things in life that sustain us. With all the competition for our attention during the holiday shopping season, it may be difficult to think about these, but we would do well to make the effort. When it comes down to it, what do we really need to make us happy? We like physical comfort and financial security. We may enjoy fancy food and pampered vacations. We want others to esteem us for our accomplishments and their fruits. Yet, none of these qualities of our life style can assure us happiness and peace. In fact, they can become sources of anxiety and frustration, because we can never be sure that enough is enough. There is always a better house or car, a little more money needed to expand our assets, a new restaurant to try or a new place to visit, and people’s opinions are so fickle we never know when they might think us “over the hill” or “has beens.”

What anchors us to life in a true and profound way are the relationships that identify us for who we are. We are who loves us and whom we love. As faithful Catholic Christians, we believe this starts with God who in Christ shows us love even unto death, death on a cross. But it doesn’t end there. In Christ’s Spirit, this love is shared, so that now we can love each other in God. Husband and wife, parents and children, friends, neighbors, the poor and needy are conduits of divine love for each other. Through our lives flows the very life-blood of God’s love for the world and each person in it. Christmas calls us to open these channels, and let the love of God pour forth through us.

What does that look like? It’s simple and straightforward. Appreciation and generosity, respect and value for others, honesty in our dealings, concern for the sick and weak, giving people a chance to share their talents, welcoming new persons with their ideas and ways as possibilities in our lives, these create a river of grace on which we can travel through life together. Without these qualities in our relationships, we get stuck with each other, living in the same space and just biding time together. We may share a lot of stuff in that space, but it is all clutter. The substance for a meaningful life is missing, and so is any genuine happiness and peace.

A simple life isn’t about how much we have or don’t have. It is about how we value whatever we have. Do we hold it in God to be used in loving others, or do we keep it for ourselves like trophies which rust and are forgotten? God preserves the good we have done by bringing it into our relationships with each other as instruments of His love. Christmas shows us what is truly valuable and important, if we pattern our relationships on how God worked to save us in becoming one with us. It’s so simple, and so profound. Take time to think about it. Baxter can help.

Stay Awake!

2011-12-04T00:00:00.000-08:00

Baxter likes to sleep. Twelve to fourteen hours each day he is in dream land. He sleeps in all sorts of positions — sometimes curled in a ball, sometimes on his back with his back feet out and front paws folded, sometimes on his belly with his chin on his front paws. I know I am biased, but Baxter looks cutest when he is asleep. Usually, there is not a whisper to hear, although occasionally he does snore, groan, or talks in his sleep. He is in another world then, oblivious to anyone or anything, lost in his dreams.

Sometimes we are asleep to life this way. Our eyes are open. We walk about. We speak to each other. We go about our daily chores. But we are asleep. We live in a world of our own making, unaware of those in need of our care and our sharing. We curl around our own problems and concerns, and refuse to consider other matters that might challenge our own self importance. We close our eyes to what causes us discomfort when we look at the pain and suffering of our world. We offer words of praise, comfort or concern just to be polite, but won’t do a thing to put our money where our mouths are. We make a dream world for ourselves, so that we don’t have to pay the price of hard work and sacrifice to make real dreams come true that we share with others.

Is it any wonder that the scriptures this Advent season send us a clear wake up call. “Watch! Stay Awake!” These words ring out to set us on notice that God is about in our world. But our dreamlike complacency often misses the signs of salvation all around us. You see, God doesn’t save us by placing us in a trance and transporting us to a land of sugar plum fairies. His salvation is won in the school of hard knocks, in the day to day struggles we have to live with integrity in a deceptive world, to care for those in true need with the limited resources we all have, to believe that our efforts make a difference that lasts because they have a role in God’s eternal work. Advent calls us to do our part in the divine reconstruction plan.

Our roles differ. John the Baptist prepared the way by calling people to repent. Mary carried out her part by saying “yes” and bearing the Son in her womb and in her life. The angels announced the hope that Christ’s birth can bring to the hopeless, and the magi raised questions to the powerful about what it could mean. Joseph trusted God and made his dreams real when he took Mary as his wife and protected the new family in fleeing to Egypt. Simeon and Anna saw their lifelong perseverance fulfilled in a brief encounter with Mary and the child in the temple. Each had a part to play in advancing the movement of God in the world. They were partners with the divine in making the world holy.

We are each offered a similar partnership. Advent awakens us to the possibility. We may not look cute accepting it, but our lives will take on a new meaning and purpose when we do. Baxter is dead to the world when he is in a deep sleep. We can be alive in a new way when we take our part in God’s watching over our world. So stay awake!

Patience

2011-11-27T00:00:00.000-08:00

Baxter is not very patient. I have had talks with him about this trait of his, but to no avail. When he wants something, he wants it NOW. There is no persuading him to defer his desire for a while, no matter what the reason might be. I’m hungry, so feed me NOW. I’m thirsty, so turn the spigot on NOW. I want into the garage, so open the door NOW. He signals his impatience with an insistent meow that is non-stop and cannot be ignored. It is in your face with a nagging sound that is relentless and annoying. Baxter can’t wait for even a few seconds when he has set his mind on what he wants.

He is like the world selling Christmas to all of us. After Halloween, it is all Christmas — lights, music, decorations and gifts, many, many gifts in all categories and price ranges. The message is: “Don’t wait. They might sell out. You need to have this year’s trend setters in fashion, electronics, toys or a novelty fad. Without it, Christmas will be a major disappointment. After all, you won’t get what you want, and how can you be happy without it?”

Advent is about waiting. This is the “in-between time.” We live in anticipation of what will come, and we don’t try to short circuit the time for its arrival. We learn to appreciate the “in-between” character of this time, so that we can grasp the “in-between” nature of most of life.

We live between birth and death, between yesterday and tomorrow, between past successes and future accomplishments, between past failures and future mistakes. Life is lived between the markers like the boundaries on a playing field or the time clock in a game, and while we might desire a larger field or more time on the clock, we only learn to play the game well if we accept the boundaries and try to play within them. These limits make the game exciting. There has to be a goal line if you want to cross it for a score. There has to be a time limit to know how to play differently as the clock runs down. A marker tells us when we have reached the goal or when time has run out, and then we know whether or not we won.

Advent sets the boundaries for Christmas. The season shrinks as Christmas Day approaches, but it sets a direction as it grows shorter. From the general sense of God’s intervention into history to save Israel, to the specific focus on the announcement of Jesus’ birth, the time winds down to one moment in history when the Word became flesh and dwelt among us. This is the turning point we were all hoping for when the momentum shifts and God’s rule prevails. From now on, the game is played differently. God’s presence and power is in-between the events of our lives, and we learn to look for Him there.

But we will never learn this lesson in salvation history unless we wait to see it unfold in the liturgical drama of our faith. Advent is this waiting period. Don’t let the world take it away from us with its promises of instant gratification of all our latest desires. Wait to know what you really want and to find it in the incarnate God shown in Jesus. This is the only way to foster genuine excitement about Christmas coming, and to know we won at life when the Risen Lord appears in His glory at the end of time.

"Purrfect" Communion

2011-11-20T00:00:00.000-08:00

Like most cats, Baxter purrs. In my opinion, he purrs when he is happy and content. I read somewhere that veterinarians are really not sure why and how cats purr. They seem to do so automatically. It can be clear and loud, or gentle and soft. It is provoked by a scratch behind the ear, a bowl of food or a deep sleep full of pleasant cat dreams. Whatever its source and however it happens, purring is contagious. The smoothing sound calms others. The relaxing rhythmic ripple mesmerizes companions into the same restful state. The effects of purring are shared. If Baxter purrs when I give him a friendly hello scratch on the head on my arrival home, the unsolved problems of the day or the stress of too many demands in too little time seem to dissolve in the feline serenade signaling simple pleasures. Purring is Baxter’s mood music to quiet the soul. It says that despite all the difficulties and struggles, all’s right with the world.

Holy Communion at the Eucharist says something very similar. Not from some physiologically generated sound, but from a deep peace originating in our hearts, the Eucharist creates a communion between God and humanity that is profoundly intimate and contains a clarity of truth that, while perhaps inexplicable, cannot be denied. God has become one with us in this worship, and so we become like God through our worship. The creative energy of God’s Spirit binds us to Him, by reminding us that God has conquered the destructive energies of our world and our egos through the death and resurrection of Christ. We eat the Bread of Life. We drink the Chalice of Salvation. This food passes through the body into the soul, and we are once again made whole. Without communion, the eucharist is spoiled like food left uneaten on the stove top. The Eucharist is meant to be shared, taken in, and consumed so that our souls can be nourished and healed by this special health food.

But this Holy Communion is not just a private affair between Jesus and me. Communion with God cannot be contained in a single relationship. It creates a network of relationships that grows and grows as we mature in the faith until it takes in the whole of life. We receive communion at the Eucharist so that we might become what we eat, other Christs. In turn, our shared identity in Christ binds everyone of us to each other as the Body of Christ in the world. We do this by sharing our communion with the world. We open doors to the holy for others by our witness to who God is in the way we are with each other.

Remember, our God purrs when we are around Him. He loves to have us close, sharing His life in its many signs of grace — forgiveness, generosity, justice, courage, humility, right judgment, hope, the truth of love and the love of truth. This is the source of the genuine peace we all desire, the contentment of a life well lived, and the happiness that nothing can take away. Holy Communion is not just a ritual act. It is how we came to be, why we continue in life, and the destiny to which we are called. It begins anew each week at the Sunday Eucharist, and is carried through the week in how we relate in our families, our work places, our recreation, and our civic responsibilities. Listen for God’s purr in the midst of all these other life sounds. It is the communion hymn sung in the streets, the living rooms, the offices, job sites and committee meetings where we live. It brings calming peace and soothing joy when we hear it in each other’s voices, preparing us for next week’s Eucharist.

A Living Memory

2011-11-13T00:00:00.000-08:00

Baxter has a memory. He remembers sights and sounds that bring him pleasure, like the cues for treats or to be brushed. He also recalls certain frightening cues. All I have to do is to take the vacuum sweeper out of the storage closet, and he runs under the bed not to reappear until the beast is put back to sleep behind the closet door. (He hates that noise!) Baxter’s memory is associated with past experiences repeating themselves. It’s Pavlov’s conditioning. What brought pleasure in the past for him sets up the expectation for a repeat performance now, and vice versa. What was annoying or unpleasant in the past is expected to bring the same discomfort when it appears again. His memory traps him in the past. He expects the past to repeat itself whenever similar cues are given off anew in the present.

We can fall into the same trap. Our memories can lock us into the past and prevent anything new and different happening to us. We become conditioned to respond to certain people and situations based upon our previous experience of them. Remember the old adage, “Once burnt, shame on you; twice burnt, shame on me!” If we forget the hurts, pain and betrayals of the past, we are the fools for not shaping our lives to prevent such things in the future. Our memory failed us, or we failed to heed our memory. Either way, the past sets up our future response to others and the world we live in together.

At the Eucharist, we remember every time we gather to worship. We recall the saving acts of God for His people through the millennia of our faith tradition. In fact, we celebrate the Eucharist so often to keep these memories alive for us, to refresh them and spark the energy they contain to charge the way we live now. The key memory of all those that make up our faith history is that of Jesus’ life, death and resurrection. This paschal event we recall at every Eucharist during the Eucharistic Prayer. We remember what He did at the supper on the night before He died, and then we further recall His death and resurrection. This memory is the anchor for our faith as it guides our daily living.

But here lies a new twist for us. The memory of Christ’s saving events is meant to set our response to whatever lies ahead for us by freeing us from the trap of other memories. The remembered hurts, pain and betrayals condemn us to repeat the past based upon how we have been conditioned to respond. We’ll never forget, so we will never forgive, so we can never begin our life anew. Remembering Jesus at the Eucharist crowds out these kind of memories with the living reality of His presence in the Eucharist. You see, the paschal memory at Eucharist literally comes alive again at the altar, not to repeat the past but to place the present and the future in the same light as led Jesus through His life, death and resurrection. This is the light of the Spirit in which we are called to live each moment of each day.

The Spirit of the Risen Lord frees us from the hurt, pain and betrayals of the past by offering us the forgiveness, healing and peace won by Christ’s death and resurrection. The memory we recall at the Eucharist can with time heal the past scars which disfigure us. The Eucharist won’t allow us to wallow in the past, but it calls us into the future with confidence, because we know what God has done and continues to do to save us. Pavlov’s conditioning is what cats do to respond to pleasure and pain based on their past experiences. We’re not cats. We are intelligent and responsible people of faith. We live out of the memory of God’s saving action in Christ’s death and resurrection, and this memory is renewed at every Eucharist. So don’t forget to keep the memory alive and discover the freedom of the children of God.

An Appetite for the Eucharist

2011-11-06T00:00:00.000-07:00

Baxter has no problem with his appetite. If he thinks it’s food, he wants it. He runs at the sound of the feeder opening, the treat bag crinkling or the tuna can snapping. Even transferring his kibble from the fifteen pound bag I purchase to smaller containers for storage brings him around, hoping that it’s meal time, or at least, that he can grab a few morsels from the floor when they fall there during the transfer. Baxter loves his food, and he has no hesitancy about getting it at every opportunity. His appetite never seems satisfied, so he’s always looking for more.

Each Sunday we are invited to the table of the Lord at the Eucharist. We are offered the Bread of Life and the Cup of Salvation freely and carefully. This is food for the soul allowing us to continue to believe in a cynical world, to hope amidst our disappointments, and to love when others think only of themselves. Through the Eucharist, we recall what God has done to save us for no other reason but that He loves us. We see this in the long history of our faith recounted in the Scriptures, and displayed most clearly and pointedly for us in the Gospels each week. Then, in the Liturgy of the Eucharist, we experience God at work once again, here and now, as Christ’s Spirit, through the person of the priest presider, transforms bread and wine into the Body and Blood of Christ, and transforms us, who receive this sacred meal, into Christ’s Body for the world. So what’s wrong? Why aren’t we hungry for the Eucharist? Why is it more of an obligation than a heart-felt desire to partake of this meal

Maybe we are just “fed up.” We gorge so many of our appetites that we can’t distinguish what we really hunger for. Our greed consumes our desire for more. Our gluttony satisfies us into complacency. Our lust absorbs our need for pleasure. Our pride keeps us apart from others. Our sloth massages our apathy about what is possible. Our envy and jealousy harden our hearts to other’s needs. Our anger fills our opinions with distortions of the truth. We kill our desire for real soul food by filling ourselves with the fast, junk food of the sinful heart.

We need to change our appetite. We need a conversion of mind, heart and spirit. How do we do this? Not with a fad diet of the latest spiritual teaching, but with a reevaluation of what truly satisfies us. What will last beyond our present situation in life? What will we take with us to the grave? These questions, taken seriously and honestly, can open our hearts to seek the deeper realities which our soul craves. Then we will begin to savor the Bread of Life and the Cup of Salvation offered at each Eucharist.

Baxter has a single focus when it comes to his appetite — what satisfies his stomach. We have many desires we seek to satisfy, and so we are often distracted from one to another and torn between them. The Eucharist is meant to train our taste to desire the best and the longest lasting nourishment — the God who took flesh in the Body and Blood of Christ.

Hearing and Listening

2011-10-30T00:00:00.000-07:00

Cats have very acute hearing. Along with his nose, Baxter makes his way through life with his ears. Familiar sounds bring familiar behaviors — the rattle of the food container, the sound of the garage door, the alarm clock going off. Strange sounds produce a different reaction. He is on high alert. His ears are up; he is sitting or standing at attention; nothing distracts him from the code red monitoring he assumes when a strange sound sets him off. Baxter listens to the world around him well, and it sets up his response to it.

At the liturgy we are asked to listen to God’s Word. It comes to us through music, the proclamation of the Scriptures and prayers said for all to find a voice. But do we listen and respond? Unlike cats, we are not wired to be good listeners. We live in a visual culture where spectacular sights and “special effects” get our attention and wonder. There is often so much noise around us — cell phones ringing, videos blaring, traffic growling and honking, talk shows rattling — that we become accustomed to tuning it all out. We look at the many pictures created for us in this modern technological world, and we use them to enter our private, imaginary worlds inside ourselves.

God’s Word calls us into the public world that we share with all other people. It calls us to take account of the good things in that world and see how we can multiply their goodness by sharing it more broadly. It calls us to take seriously the evil in this world of ours and to work together to identify its source and the solutions to eliminate it. God’s Word calls us, but we must first listen. The Sunday Eucharist is our weekly training camp to learn how and to condition us to be alert to this message.

The first step is to pay attention. The opening prayer of the liturgy is meant to gather together our scattered thoughts and feelings from the week around the God who has walked with us those days, but often perhaps unnoticed or unheeded. Let go of the problems at work still unsolved, the worries about your teenage daughter’s boyfriend, the shortfall in the household budget or the schedule conflict between soccer practice and piano lessons, and listen. This opening prayer is known as the “Collect,” and it is collecting all those aspects of our lives that we bring to the Eucharist and focusing them in faith.

From this opening prayer, we move to the Liturgy of the Word, where the Scriptures, proclaimed through the millennia, now speak to us, personally and collectively at the same time. But we must hear this word, take it to heart, find the references for its message in our own lives, and look for what we can do about it. It all starts with listening seriously, carefully, and prayerfully. This means that we listen wanting to make a connection between what we hear and how we live. We focus on the moment when the Word is proclaimed, and not on moments before we came to church or those to follow after we leave. We are present to the Word of God to find in it God’s Word for us.

Baxter figures out what is going on by a keen sense of hearing. He identifies friend or foe, food or frightening threat by the sound associated with these things. The sound of God’s Word can help us do the same from the vision of our faith. So listen well and learn how to live faithfully.

Saying the Right Thing

2011-10-23T00:00:00.000-07:00

Baxter loves to talk. He has different things to say depending upon what is going on. When he wants to eat, he has this annoying meow that harangues me until I respond with what he wants — food! After he has eaten, he has recently started making this billowing sound. I think it is his version of a roar, marking his conquest of prey for sustenance. Of course, in his case, the prey is kibble from a bag. Nevertheless, Baxter voices a lion’s heart, even though he has the diet and physique of a domestic short hair. If the truth be told, his roar is more like a heavy chirp than a ferocious blast. (We can only deliver what we have!) Baxter’s most distinctive sound comes right before he has a hair ball episode. This groan starts deep in his gut, and it slowly crescendos to a piercing plea for relief, just before the messy cough up occurs. Two seconds afterwards, he’s quiet and innocent looking, walking around the unsightly residue and ignoring it, as if to say, “Who did that?” He knows I’ll clean it up, so why bother himself.

Like Baxter, we have different things to say in different ways depending upon the situation and our disposition. Sometimes our talk is small. We chat with a neighbor or friend about what went on today — what happened at work, what the kids are up to, what secrets are around about people we know, our troubles and problems on a minor scale. Sometimes we say special things to ground our lives in our words: “I love you.”; “I am so sorry.”; “Thank you from the bottom of my heart.” These words that make life matter because they strengthen our commitments and the meaning they bring to our lives. These words need to be said in the right way in the proper situation and often. They add to the reality of what they are expressing, and if they are not said, we soon lose a sense of love, forgiveness and gratitude in our lives.

Our talk at Eucharist will soon be changing somewhat. We are being asked to learn new responses to various parts of the Mass, and to hear some new wording from others at Mass. Why all this bother? Well, sometimes our language becomes rote and automatic. We say “yes” just to get someone off our back, but we don’t really mean it. We can do the same with our responses and prayers at Mass. They become so familiar that we don’t pay attention to their meaning and message any longer. We respond out of a thoughtless habit, rather than a heartfelt conviction. We say what we are supposed to say, rather than what we truly mean. So these upcoming changes in our God-talk at Mass are an opportunity for us to say what we mean and mean what we say. Let’s practice a moment.

“The Lord be with you.” “And with your spirit.” This is a special greeting. It is not just a casual “Hi” as we pass on the street. It’s an acknowledgement of who we are before God as His children and heirs to God’s Kingdom. With all else that we are — parent, employee, friend, spouse, citizen, fan, etc. — we are spiritual persons, ones marked to live by the Spirit of Christ in all our other roles. We are in this world of family, finances, friends, sports, work, entertainment and politics, but not of this world. We live in this world as disciples of Christ and citizens of God’s Kingdom, and we can do so because we are more than flesh and blood, mind and emotions, and we are more than friends, family or associates. At Mass we recognize that we are also spiritual persons united as the Body of Christ for the sake of our mission to build God’s Kingdom in the world. We remind each other of this deeper part of ourselves, and we encourage each other to live from this level when we say “And with your spirit.”

I know when Baxter is mad about something I did or didn’t do, because he turns his back on me and sits in place saying nothing. If we ignore the spirit in each other and never raise a voice to acknowledge it, we may forget to use it in the way we relate to each other, work together, and effect the world. Come on, Baxter, say something nice. Come on, folks, say something of God to each other. “And with your spirit.”

A Quiet Presence

2011-10-16T00:00:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I give Baxter a bad rap. To emphasize his antics, I may appear to say that he is trouble all the time. In fact, he is far from it. Baxter does have his crazy moments and quirks of habit like all of us. But most of the time, he is just there, lying on the rug or the blanket on my bed, keeping me company. He's a quiet presence -- no talking, no movement, just there -- wanting to be where I am but without any need to stir the scene or be the focus of attention. When he isn't in the room with me, I have a flash of fright. Did he get out? Is something wrong? But usually it’s only that he is hiding for a while under the bed or table, just to keep me guessing.

That steady, quiet presence is like God's way of being with us most of the time. He doesn't make a big scene. He is quiet and unassuming, but He wants to be where we are. God is the "Other" in our midst. His mystery isn't easily described. In fact, it is more often noticed in its absence than when it is regularly present. God doesn't need a lot of fanfare to be a part of our lives, but He doesn't like to be taken for granted. Maybe that's why He sometimes seems hard to find or distant. It's a way to keep us on our toes to His life with us.

With all the hustle and bustle of our lives, is it any wonder that we forget, ignore, or miss this quiet, loving presence that lives with us? He doesn't make a fuss to get our attention as we so often do with each other. He doesn't stand out from the crowd but is content to share with the crowd the joys and sorrows, hopes and fears of us all. God doesn’t shout, "I'm number one!" He's content to share our victories and console us in defeat. He doesn't need to be the center of attention all the time, just the center of our lives from their beginning to their end.

Yes, we are born with the divine mystery; we live each day of our lives with it; hopefully, we die in its arms. And we don't have to do much to care for it, just acknowledge the presence, be grateful for its love and care, and seek it out when we need its guidance, forgiveness or healing. In other words, we need to worship. A little food, water and clean litter are all it takes to keep Baxter around, and what a joy it is to have him there. A little faith, regular worship and a clean heart are all it takes to keep God in our lives. The joy that can bring will surprise you.

Jumping

2011-10-09T00:00:00.000-07:00

Baxter likes to jump. Cats do that, you know. He jumps on beds, chairs, and the rim of the bathtub when he wants to get a drink from the spigot. I try to limit where Baxter leaps. Counter tops, tables and dressers are off limits. Of course, there is no stopping him from a jump to the window sill on a bright, sunny day when the birds are outside chirping. Sometimes he does try to break my rules. When a morsel is left on the table or a can of tuna stands opened on the counter top, the whiff of sheer culinary delight creates a craving that no rule can control. Then he's up in an instant, and I have to spastically intervene in a second to preserve the few feline-human boundaries I try to uphold.

Cats are built to jump. The spring in their back legs and the flexibility in their spine makes a four foot, vertical move look effortless. Their balance creates a ballet out of a simple change of position. They seem to defy gravity. Their moves to a higher level are poetry in motion. God made them to dance through the air.

God gave us a similar gift. While a few of us with the right training can jump far and/or high on an athletic field, we all are meant to reach for a higher level in life. We are not meant to be earth-bound when it comes to our vision and how we practice it in life. The Kingdom of God is always ahead of us and beyond our current level of goodness and justice. It keeps calling us higher to consider possibilities previously untried, disciplines still unmastered, and a generosity we thought too much for us. The Holy Spirit stretches our spirits to make them more limber and strong. At first, the new thought or practice may seem awkward and even painful. We might resist the effort. But remember, "use it or lose it" applies to more than our physical conditioning. It is the only way to grow in holiness and grace as Jesus did.

God doesn't stand still. God keeps unfolding a future for us. He calls us out of our frightened, selfish and controlling egos to a vision that passes through cooperation to divine communion. He connects us in an ecology of the Holy Spirit that our rugged individualism resists. He removes the blinders we wear to avoid seeing His image in the least, from the unborn and the poor, to the prisoner and the frail elderly. God isn't satisfied with our present lives in this world. He wants more for us than the security and satisfactions we try to create for ourselves. He wants to love us into a life of generosity and service that makes others say, "See how they love one another." He wants us to join in the dance of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit and seem to fly by our faith.

So, don't just sit or stand there. Jump!

The Shedding Season

2011-10-02T00:00:00.000-07:00

This is shedding season. Every fall and spring I find tuffs of hair around the floor for a few weeks while Baxter grows a new fur coat for the winter or summer ahead. This time it's a thicker and heavier coat for the cold weather to come. Fall is a time to lose something to be better prepared for what lies ahead. Look at nature in general. The leaves are losing their green color. The trees will lose their leaves. The sap runs into the roots. Nature is preparing for the cold by releasing its hold on what has served its purpose well in the warm days of summer, but will soon be out of season as life moves on.

What do we need to shed as we face this new time of the year? We also wear coats to keep us warm and to add to our fashionable look. They are the roles we take on as part of our place in the world. Are they the right ones for the season of our lives? We might still want to be light and care-free like the days of our youth, but now we have responsibilities for others, and we cannot ignore them. On the other hand, we might be beyond the responsibilities of parenthood and wage earner, and we have to learn how to find joy in life with a different contribution to make to others' lives. We may no longer be the care-giver or provider, but we bring other gifts-- the wisdom of patience, the joy of caring for the young without the burden of disciplining them, the freedom to appreciate a quiet moment, a long walk or a good book or hobby. As life changes we shed some roles to take on others, and if we do so graciously, without resenting what we are losing, in the full circle of life's seasons, we come to see how God works.

Before the trees shed their leaves, they first change color. From green to gold, red, or orange and then brown, they reveal a hidden beauty before they die and fall to the ground. Shedding doesn't have to be ugly or sad. It can be peaceful and yet exhilarating. There is nothing like a brisk, bright fall day to inspire our admiration for God's hand in painting nature's beauty. Can we see that same hand in ourselves and others as the seasons pass? If we only stare at the clumps that we have lost with the shedding, we will never see the colors of our new coat for a new season.

Baxter's hair will get thicker after a few weeks of loss. He will groom himself, and I will help with a few vigorous brushings while he goes through this period. We both may have a hairball or two to deal with along the way. But finally, he will be ready for winter and look good in a fine, new coat. The same is possible for us as we move through the seasons of our lives. Don't fight the changes life brings to us all. Learn how to wear them stylishly but without conceit. They are part of the many looks God gives us, until we finally see our whole life dressed for the final season when we live with Him forever.

Taking the Chill Off

2011-09-25T00:00:00.000-07:00

Baxter gets cozy when the weather gets cool. I have noticed the change in his behavior the past week when the mornings have had a little bit of a brisk edge. During the summer he staked out his own turf in the house, and for the most part, he didn’t want to be bothered by me or anyone. He wanted only to lie in the various spots he claimed for his own, a solitary mound of fur content with his privacy. “Leave me to my own world” was his clear and persistent message through the warm and lazy days of summer.

But now he is sending a different message. To put off the chill of the early morning, Baxter now wants a place on my lap. Of course, he picks the place, and this choice sometimes takes a few exploratory circles around my lap until he finds just the right spot. Then it’s plop, purr and the picture of contentment as he snuggles to stay warm. Actually, this is a very symbiotic arrangement for the two of us. Once he is settled, Baxter is like a lap blanket for me, sharing his higher body temperature to stave off the chilly morning. In a cold environment, two can make a warmer place if they share their space.

The same holds true for God and God’s children in a cold world. Too often we try to make it on our own in this world. We have to show that we are tough, independent and able to stand on our own two feet. So we isolate ourselves and work out our discipleship and its challenges alone. We take care of ourselves, and don’t ask for help or companionship. We prove our worth by showing that we don’t need anyone to deal with the cool reception that often comes with being a believer today.

But there is another way. To combat the cold, share the warmth of God’s love by allowing God to get close. He won’t growl. He won’t push you away. He won’t feel you are intruding on His space. He will welcome the opportunity to get close and share what each of us has to offer to bring warmth to a cold situation. God’s lap is large enough for everyone to find a place to feel at home and comfortable. But we need to realize that it’s cold out there and that we need a little help to stay warm.

Only a warm believer is a credible one. Standing aloof from the weaknesses of others only says that we are out of touch with our own vulnerable humanity. Staying isolated from the complex problems of today’s world only says that we are afraid of our confusion and uncertainty. Thinking that our faith is self-sufficient only raises doubts about its authenticity, because faith is first a gift, if it is true at all. It takes our knowing the warmth of God’s love to communicate a message that attracts others and invites them to share our space.

Holiness doesn’t have to be cold to be true. More often than not, a cold spirituality is hiding something not of God, but of our own troubled soul. God reveals Himself for who He is—a loving Father who takes the world in His lap to hand it over to His Son for healing and forgiveness through His cross. The Son, in turn, releases the warmth of the Spirit to renew the face of the earth. As fall brings a chill to our mornings, say a prayer for the warmth of God’s love to touch you, and through you, others.

Baxter Is Back!

2011-09-18T00:00:00.000-07:00

Baxter is back! He had a great summer doing his usual cat activities - sleeping, eating, getting in trouble, sleeping, eating, sleeping, eating, sleeping, eating, getting in trouble. You get the picture.

He passed his annual physical. He lost a pound, got a rabies shot and some drops for his ear, and overcame the trauma of going to the vet. He is ready for another year of cat routines. See the list mentioned above.

Fall is full of start-ups with new or resumed routines. The weather is cool. It’s football season. School has begun on all levels, and we are back to our more typical life style. This time of the year provides an opportunity for us to take stock of what we make a routine part of our lives. Sometimes we just fall into routines, and the routines rule our lives. But are we giving our time, talent and energy to what matters most?

Sometimes our lives get out of our hands because we get caught into meeting the expectations and demands of everyone else. We keep adding more and more activities to our schedules, and wonder why we are so exhausted and stressed. We fill free time with commitments and have no time to relax. We find ourselves in schedule conflicts, and so we end up meeting our commitments half the time and ignoring the rest. We gear up for a new school year, but we run only at top speed. There’s no time to think, reflect, pray, or watch our kids have fun without a “win” at stake. Is it any wonder we are depressed, distressed and disoriented?

God gave us only twenty-four hours to a day, seven days to a week, and fifty-two weeks to a year. How do we fill the time with what we need to be complete persons, nourished in body, mind and spirit? How do we get into a routine that helps us grow as persons and disciples of Christ? It doesn’t happen automatically or through some form of magic. We need to have time to pray, worship, relax, be together without an agenda except to connect with each other.

Baxter’s routine is quite simple. He does what cats need to do to be cats, and he doesn’t care what others want to make of him. No stupid cat tricks for him, no social commitments, no forced organized sports, no alarm clocks—except the one in his stomach for meal time. Our routines are a lot more complicated, but are they balanced to shape us into complete persons and faithful Catholics? Fall’s start-ups give us a chance to adjust our lives for the better. Think about it.

Baxter's Summer Vacation

2011-06-12T00:01:00.000-07:00

Baxter has decided to go on vacation for the summer, so I am left without any material to write about until the fall. I hope that my feline musings have struck a note in some of you to reflect about your faith and how it fits in your life. God speaks in various ways to us. If the Baxter columns have helped, give God the glory. If not, look for something else that speaks to you to grow and mature in the faith. Baxter assures me that he will be back in the fall and with a special series for Advent-Christmas this year. After all, you know how he loves to eat, and I have told him often that he has to earn his keep. Until then, have a relaxing summer and take in the warmth of God’s grace. Baxter sends a big purr and leg rub to all. I pray that you know God’s blessing always.

Excitement

2011-06-12T00:00:00.000-07:00

Baxter goes a little crazy from time to time. I don’t know what comes over him. It usually occurs in the evening, but there have been incidents in the middle of the day, and even the morning. What happens is that he bolts upright on all fours, stands at attention for a second, then he starts running through the house. He stops when he gets to his destination, pauses for a moment, and then starts his run at full speed again back to where he started. Usually, these episodes come with two or three repetitions. After that, he lies down in one of his normal prone positions as if nothing just occurred -- a brief moment of madness in an otherwise boring day.

Pentecost seems like such a moment from the descriptions we hear about it in the scriptures. The Holy Spirit descends on the first disciples like tongues of fire, and they begin speaking in different languages so that all can understand. This frightened group of followers of the Lord Jesus, hiding in the upper room, is now set ablaze with energy and conviction to announce the good news of God’s salvation in Christ to anyone who will listen. The resurrection victory over sin and death explodes with the outpouring of the Spirit, and it seems that nothing will stop its spread through those who believe.

We share the same Spirit, but would anyone know it from the way we speak and act? Centuries after the first Christian Pentecost the Church became conventional. It started under Constantine who wanted to consolidate his empire with the Church at its center. Eventually, the persecuted became the powerful, the outcasts became the establishment, and what was new and exciting for the first Christians became conventional and taken for granted by later faithful. The fire of Pentecost began to smolder, creating at times more smoke than light, and the energy of the Spirit was now tamed by rules of order and management. The surprising God who opened tombs and appeared in unexpected settings eventually became the God of the court, dressed in finery and regulated by the protocol of royalty. The madness of the Word made flesh, the dead raised to new life and the Spirit bringing peace, forgiveness and understanding to all was hidden away.

Perhaps that is why Blessed John Paul II called for a new Pentecost in the Church. From time to time in the history of the Church, someone comes along to stir the Spirit and revive the energy and fervor of the original time. The Irish monks after the Dark Ages came with missionary zeal to Europe to re-Christianize the continent. Saints Francis and Dominic and their followers broke with conventional monasticism to bring the gospel in a new way to the new cities and universities arising in the Middle Ages. Saints Ignatius of Loyola, Jane Frances de Chantal, Vincent de Paul, and many others started new ways of spreading the Good News that were “outside the box” but where the people were struggling to live with meaning and dignity. In the more recent past, figures like Blessed Teresa of Calcutta, Dorothy Day, Saint Damien of Molokai, Saint Elizabeth Ann Seton, Blessed John Henry Newman, Saint Edith Stein and others have shown the power of God in various settings and new ways to both the elite of this world and the least in it. Indeed, the Spirit has been moving through the Church over the centuries.

Now it is our turn. What will it take for a new stirring of the Spirit in the Mon Valley, its churches and communities? We have been through hard times, but in the history of the Church, it was precisely in such times that the Spirit found a new fervor. When the old ways don’t work any longer, the Spirit inspires new wisdom to try a different approach. When people are abandoning the church out of ignorance, poverty or complacency, the Spirit raises witnesses who show that belief is reasonable, effective for bettering the human condition, and a source of happiness because it calls for a life of service driven by a divine purpose and meaning. We rely upon the past not to repeat it, but to give us confidence in the present and future. God did not abandon the Church during difficult times in the past, and He will not do so now. But we must rise to the challenge with the gifts of the Spirit we each have been given.

Use your head, trust your gut, get off your duff, and give the Spirit a chance to move you in new ways to bring new life and hope to a different, but still redeemable, world. Let Baxter’s mad dashes inspire you to get moving in the Spirit again.

Hide and Seek

2011-06-05T00:00:00.000-07:00

Baxter likes to hide to get my goat. Even with a bell on his collar he knows how to step quietly and pick a new spot to rest without a sound. Of course, if he’s not in sight, I go to his usual haunts first to find him, but that doesn’t always work. When he really wants to hide, he picks a new place, one he has never visited before where he fits in seamlessly. Under the bed is a common one, but once I found him between the pillows on the bed pretending to be a match for the Steeler bear I have tucked there. He was one more fuzzy face with the stuffed animal. He has been behind the curtain in the bathtub, in the corner of the closet, and on a chair under the dining room table -- always fitting in so well he is hidden from sight. Sometimes for a few seconds I get a twinge of anxiety when I can’t find him. Is he lost outside and encountering other critters who may not be very friendly? But then he shows up with a look like “I got you!”

Sometimes God seems to be hidden from our lives as well. When times get difficult at work or at home, when tragedy strikes, when our hopes get dashed or our worries overwhelm us, God can be hard to find. We look and look in all the usual places, and they are empty. Praying and coming to Mass are a struggle to stay focused and involved. Conversations with friends and family can be strained. The beauty of creation and the excitement of a special occasion are lost in the dull grayness of wondering what it’s all about. New life turns sour with the bitterness of pain and loss of whatever kind, and we turn fearful and depressed with the thought that there is nothing more for which to hope.

Then God shows up again, sitting in front of us with a knowing look and a kind smile. “I just wanted to let you know who is in charge here” seems to be the message. Happiness is not about controlling our world, but living in it with confidence that we are not alone even when we can’t clearly see where the divine spark of love is set off. God’s silence is not a trick to deceive us, but a way to send a different message. You cannot penetrate the mystery of life and death. The mystery will penetrate you and bring you to a new and deeper understanding of God’s goodness and generosity. Just because God is out of our sight for a while does not mean that we are out of His. He quietly watches us in our doldrums, staying close at hand but not interfering, ready to reappear when the time is ripe for us to appreciate what He brings to our lives — meaning, belonging, hope for the future and consolation in the present. God doesn’t fix all of our problems, but He places them in a setting where we can fix what we can and learn to live with the brokenness only He can heal in His time.

When God is hiding, we learn to seek Him more intently. When He is silent, we learn to listen more carefully. We come to see what our faith truly brings to our lives, not easy answers or pleasant routines but a deep sense of the holy that undergirds and sustains us. God is always there, but not always in the same place in the same way. He is too great to be captured in a moment, an experience, a thought or an action. He sometimes seeks new places in our lives, places previously unknown to us, which can soon offer a new twist on the saving mystery of death and resurrection. After all, before Christ, who would have thought of looking to the cross as the place of victory over sin and death. God was hiding there, and believers eventually came to see the new life won for them in that place.

Hide and seek is a children’s game where we try to come home free before we are caught. Baxter often beats me at this game with his tricks. God is even better at it. When He hides in our pain and sorrow, our desire for His love grows, and if we don’t give up, He finally declares to us, “Ollie, Ollie in free!” Sin and death are conquered. New life is won. The Holy Spirit is set free.

Food for the Journey

2011-05-29T00:00:00.000-07:00

Baxter has a weight problem. I don’t like to remind him of it too often. When I call him a “fat cat” he gets insulted. I have had him on special weight control food from the veterinarian for many years. It costs me a bundle; it hasn’t worked; but Baxter is fat and happy with it, so I continue to provide the “special formula.” I swear to the vet that I only feed him a half a cup a day. She tells me that a weight problem is common in neutered, indoor male cats. They don’t get enough exercise roaming and hunting for food. Why spend energy when provisions are provided for you? Baxter isn’t dumb, just overweight.

Perhaps we need to consider the same question when it comes to our faith life. Hopefully, we feed our spirits on the Bread of Life every week or more often. We take in Christ through the Eucharist’s word, sacrament, community and leadership. We digest the message of the scriptures, and we draw close to the Lord in communion with His very Body and Blood. We enjoy the fellowship of the assembly gathered to offer worship, and we acknowledge Christ the Shepherd and Priest in the presider at the altar. We take it all in, but what do we do with it once the celebration is concluded.

Eucharist is not a bedtime snack to sleep on. It is food for the journey to give us the energy we need to keep moving through life’s encounters and challenges in faith. When we are told to “Go in peace,” this isn’t an injunction to rest and relax, but to go about the mission of the church with a sense of peaceful confidence and trust in God as we spread the Word and witness to God’s love for all in service. Evangelization is not something added on to our faith once we have free time from all the important things we do each day. It is making the mission of the Eucharist part of those important things. What we see and hear at worship we need to work at making visible, heard and effective in our daily activities. Certainly, we have to carry out our jobs efficiently and competently, but we also need to do so with a sense of caring for those affected by our work. We need to recognize opportunities to speak and offer guidance for upholding what we believe about God and humanity, not with a sense of self-righteous indignation but of humble respect for others that our faith allows us to see.

A Eucharistic attitude and style isn’t easy to achieve. That’s why we come back week after week to worship together and renew our communion in God with each other. But we worship not just for ourselves. We gather for Eucharist to become God’s agents in the world. Through the Holy Spirit Who renews His mark on us at every Eucharist, we are commissioned to transform the situations we face each day to be more Christ-like, more loving and generous, more respectful and hopeful, more transparent to the holy.

Baxter isn’t totally to blame for being fat and lazy. I don’t give him a lot to do around the house. But God charges us at every Eucharist to build the Kingdom, to make over the world as He wants it to be for us, to be evangelizers who give to others what we receive at Eucharist. There’s no place for fat and lazy Catholic Christians in the divine scheme of things. We are on a journey to the Kingdom, and everyone who is fed on the Body and Blood of Christ is sent to do Christ’s work on the way.

Welcoming Strangers

2011-05-22T00:00:00.000-07:00

Baxter made a scene the other day. I have never seen him so agitated and upset. Another cat set foot on the deck outside the glass doors in the bedroom. Baxter spotted it, and there was no calming him down. He hissed, spit, hissed, pawed at the glass, hissed, bared his teeth, hissed and wouldn’t stop until the intruder ran from the area. Even afterwards, Baxter was huffing and puffing for a while, starring at the empty space and intent on preventing any return of the stranger. It was a threat to Baxter’s claim on his kingdom, and there was no way he would tolerate it.

Although we hate to admit it, we sometimes act like Baxter. We throw a fit because some stranger comes into our world. It may not always be a new person. It may be a new idea, a new way of doing things, a new attitude to the situation, or a different style in the way we operate. The new is strange to us at first, and we don’t like the feelings of strange. We prefer the familiar, the tried and true. Those things are comfortable, reassuring, and allow us to be who we are used to being. When that comfort zone is disturbed, we get upset and try to get rid of what threatens our secure space.

So is it any wonder that they tried to get rid of Jesus when He challenged their religious space? He drove the money changers from the temple. He argued about the application of the Law with the religious authorities. He stretched the limits of forgiveness and mercy to seventy times seven and the prodigal son. He brought new judgment to bear on familiar situations when He said that Mary chose the better part and the one without sin should cast the first stone. He did things differently when He ate with tax collectors and sinners and asked the Samaritan woman for a drink. Finally, He invaded everyone’s comfort zone when His resurrection released the Spirit to announce the Gospel to all peoples and invite them into the mystery of new life in baptism.

We may wish it didn’t have to be this way, but we can’t stay in place and think we can grow in the new life of grace. The Spirit of the Risen Lord brings new people, new thoughts, new attitudes and new ways into the Church of the Acts of the Apostles. If we reject everything new and different, we don’t give the Lord a chance to bring new life. Not that everything new is the best. Some strangers have sinister motives. Some new ways aren’t better than the old ones. Some new ideas are not an improvement, but foolish. But to know what brings new life and what just brings novelty, we have to be open to giving the new and different a chance to see what it is made of. If it is of God, we will see it in ways similar to Saint Luke’s description in the Acts of the Apostles:

They devoted themselves to the teaching of the apostles and to the communal life, to the breaking of the bread and to the prayers. All who believed were together and had all things in common; they would sell their property and possessions and divide them among all according to each one’s need. And every day the Lord added to their number those who were being saved (Acts 2:42, 44-45, 47b).

What are we doing to add to our number those seeking God’s salvation? If we won’t admit the stranger, we are limited to the familiar and the comfortable, and we won’t know new growth. But resurrection provokes growth, and to know this mystery of our salvation, we have to want to embrace it.

Baxter is purrfectly content with his space, his routine, and his life style. He is a cat. We are God’s children and disciples of the risen Lord Jesus. If we act like cats in a fight for our familiar territory, we are less than who we are called to be.

Running Water

2011-05-15T00:00:00.000-07:00

Baxter loves running water. He prefers to drink from a spigot rather than from a bowl. If he has to drink water from a bowl, he paws at it until it moves and splashes, creating puddles around the bowl. In Baxter's mind, puddles are a small price to pay for moving water. Of course, his favorite drink comes right from the tap. His head gets soaking wet as do his paws when he places them under the stream. He then licks the pool formed from the water coming off of him. He is willing to bear the discomfort of a wet head and feet for the sake of a fresh, cool, lively drink. Of course, he shakes off after his thirst is satisfied and moves on. I am left with the clean up.

The waters of baptism are stirred for us this Easter season. At the Easter Vigil in our parish, we witnessed a person enter the new life of Christ through this Sacrament of the Church, and throughout this season, we are asked to reflect on the meaning of our own baptism and how it calls us to move our lives.

Baptism splashes in many directions to incorporate us into Christ's life. Through this ritual, we are claimed as a child of God. We are washed of sin and marked with the Spirit of Him at the same time. The mystery of dying and rising becomes the mystery of our own life journey when we become baptized Christians, and we share this journey with all others who are baptized as we become members of the Church, the Body of Christ. Who we are before God and who we are before others are joined in the mark of baptism that identifies us.

When was the last time we thoughtfully and prayerfully drank of the mystery of our baptism? We get a certificate that it happened. We register at a parish as members because we are baptized. But is the water stagnant for us? Is it just a matter of paper forms and Sunday routine that we fill out and follow?

Easter each year turns on the spigot of baptismal water to welcome new Christians into the communion of faith and to renew the already baptized in their faith. Do we allow the waters to wash over us again? We need to drink more deeply of the mystery of dying and rising in Christ. There are many deaths in the course of living, more than just the loss of physical life. A divorce, a retirement, a serious illness, the children leaving home, an economic downturn in the community are all deaths of parts of our lives. How do we rise from them to new life? That is the call of Christ to the baptized.; You aren't allowed to remain dead, to wallow in your grief and self-pity, or to pretend that nothing happened. Your Lord died and rose, and the only way to be faithful to the Lord Jesus is to follow the same path. And we do not walk alone. The mystery only comes together as we come together as the Body of Christ, refreshed and renewed in His Spirit.

Baxter wouldn't think of drinking stale and stagnant water. He knows better. Such pools only breed sickness and disease. We should take heed of this thought when it comes to our faith life. Stir the waters to keep them fresh. Splash about in the baptismal pool to see what needs watered. Get a little wet to understand how to take in the faith in different circumstances of our lives. We never outgrow our need for the waters of baptism to stay healthy in Christ's life.

Open Doors

2011-05-08T00:00:00.000-07:00

Baxter does not like a closed door. If there is one in the house, he tolerates it only for a while. Soon he begins pawing at it and crying to have it opened. He wants to know what’s behind the barrier. When I open the door, he either darts into the open space in triumph, or else he cautiously proceeds to investigate the unknown territory. He sniffs, gingerly steps forward, sniffs further, and then he takes the plunge into the unexplored areas of the new space. Cats are very territorial, and they want to know what’s in their space.

The Risen Lord is the same way. He does not like closed tombs or locked doors. No matter how large was the stone sealing it, He broke open the tomb where they laid Him after His death. In John’s Gospel, it was despite the locked doors that the Risen Lord appeared to His disciples. He wasn’t going to be kept out.

Resurrection wants to penetrate the hidden and closed areas of our lives with a renewing grace. Where have we closed out God to keep our minds and hearts safe? Holding a grudge, being stuck in grief, keeping a stubborn disagreement going by refusing to hear the other side, wanting it my way no matter what, licking old or new wounds, these are all closed doors to new life. The key to opening these doors is given by the Risen Lord when He first says, “Peace be with you,” when He shows them His wounded hands and His side, and when He adds, “Whose sins you forgive are forgiven them.”

We can’t close out others peacefully. It takes energy and effort to exclude people from our lives. Peace comes when we begin to see the wounds we all bear from living. This vision allows us to share a common bond of frail humanity in the face of harsh reality. This is what the glorious wounds of the risen body of Jesus remind us. We have all been hurt in life, and we bear the marks of these painful experiences in our lives. But these wounds can become lessons in the meaning and purpose of life, if we find the peace to carry them gracefully. Forgiveness is the key to such peace, but forgiveness is not an act of our will. It is a gift of the Holy Spirit as the Risen Lord presents it. We must pray for this gift and accept it when it is given. In the meantime, we have to open the doors to make it possible for the Spirit to come into our lives when He will.

Apostles and evangelizers cannot live behind closed doors. There we can only talk to ourselves and serve ourselves. If a new evangelization is to dawn in the church and the world, we have to open the way for others to enter our lives. We have to listen, understand, discuss, respect each other even when we disagree, and keep talking with each other about important matters that shape who we are and how we treat each other. We don’t spread the good news of God’s salvation in Christ with a club, but as the Risen Lord did, with an invitation to share new life in the Spirit.

Baxter wants to know what’s behind the closed door. God wants to know as well, so that He can breathe into the space new life through His Spirit. Won’t you help God explore new places in your life? His peace is even better than a friendly, soothing purr.

Light and Warmth

2011-05-01T00:00:00.000-07:00

Baxter loves the sun. He gets excited on sunny days and loves to spend time looking out the window, sometimes at nothing from my point of view, but he is mesmerized. He also loves to lie in the sun. I do not think that he gets a tan. At least, I never noticed one, but he loves to feel the warm rays on his back, tummy, nose and paws. He makes the effort to change his position from time to time to be sure that all parts are exposed before a sunning session is done. Feeling warm all over is reassuring to this usually skittish critter.

Baxter has mastered the art of lingering in the sunlight for vision and warmth. Not a bad lesson for us to learn. However, instead of sunlight, we need to linger in the light of Christ. The Church gives us fifty whole days in the Easter season to ponder the wonders of this light. We need to learn to relish the whole season and delay the temptation often posed by our worldly conditioning to “get on with it.”

There are so many facets to the mystery of Christ’s resurrection that one day in that light will never exhaust its meaning for us. Like a well-cut diamond, we need to turn ourselves in many directions to see all the color and angles of insight resurrection can bring to our life. The Risen Lord appeared in many guises in the scriptural accounts, and He was often not recognized for Himself at first. A ghost, a gardener, a cook on the beach, a fellow traveler on the road were all descriptions of the Lord Jesus before the disciples’ eyes were opened to see something more in the person they met. They listened to His words and heard the Word of God for them. They looked more closely and saw the wounds on His hands, the broken bread of the Eucharist, and the gift of the Spirit bringing peace and forgiveness. If we take time to notice, it is amazing what wonders appear in what we thought were just common-place encounters.

With Christ’s light comes also the warmth of God’s love, a love that transforms this sometimes cold and harsh world by what it moves us to do and say. An encouraging word to the discouraged, a thoughtful gesture to the forgotten, a gift to those in need, a job for someone down and out, a visit to the sick, a moment for the lonely, all these bring warmth to two persons’ lives, the giver and the gifted. Resurrection moves us to share what we have and who we are with others who may have less and so think less of themselves. This warm light doesn’t change the pigment in our skin. It changes the way we color each other. No longer are we problems for each other, competitors for limited resources or strangers with sinister intentions. We become brothers and sisters in one Lord, and a different kind of global warming increases with a new sign of God’s love.

Baxter takes it slowly on a sunny day to bask in the light and warmth. He’s a pro at easy living. Let Christ make your life easier by lingering in His light. Soak in the warmth of God’s love. Take your time through the Easter season. You might be surprised by what you see and experience — a world made new, one encounter at a time.

Happy Easter!

2011-04-24T00:00:00.000-07:00

Baxter is ten years old, and he has lived in five places, not counting the animal shelter where he originated. One place in particular he loved. It had a garage with a cement floor, and the garage was attached to the house on the ground level. When I would return home he would be waiting. As I opened the door between the garage and the house, he would come bursting through it into the garage, talking all the while. Then he would fall onto the cement floor and roll on his back and wiggle back and forth. After a few minutes of this stunt, he would roll side to side until I would scratch his belly for a welcome greeting. The last part of the ritual was for him to jump bolt upright on all fours and run into the house, all the while chattering because, of course, dinner was next on the agenda. Only food ever gets Baxter to move fast.

Baxter’s welcome home ritual was something to which I looked forward after a long day. I was never sure whether it was provoked by my return, or by the fact that my return meant he would eat. Probably there was a little of each, with the food primary in driving his enthusiasm. Nevertheless, it was a great show. He would purr and purr through it all, delighted at the cool floor, the anticipated dinner and his servant’s return, in that order. His ritual meant I was home again.

Easter is God’s ritual of delight for us. After not just a day or two, but many millennia of preaching, healing, forgiving and suffering for the people, the fullness of time was accomplished. In Christ, God conquered sin and death, and brought us salvation in the promised new life won on the cross. He must feel delighted. It worked. After human sin’s and nature’s fracturing of goodness marked a world with suffering and pain, now the victory of grace transformed that world by passing through the passion and death to resurrection. It seems too good to be true, too much to believe. That is why we are at a loss for words, except “Alleluia!” That is why we show this mystery in sacramental ways — fire and light, water and oil, bread and wine, all made holy by the appeal to grace’s claim on them.

Easter continues for fifty days of the Church’s liturgical year and for a lifetime of discipleship. We need to relish the wonders of this season and their meaning for our lives. Although we weren’t sure before, now we know that we are never trapped behind locked doors, whether we close them ourselves through our sin, or we are enclosed by the losses, tragedies and disappointments of others. Resurrection keeps opening a door to new life that we need to look for and explore. In this way we share in God’s delight for us and His power to save us. Easter is God’s welcome home to the Kingdom for each of us, where a new and better life is promised. Turn the knob and open the door to let God into your life this season.

May this joyous season be filled with many blessings for you and yours.

"Herding Cats"

2011-04-17T00:00:00.000-07:00

“Herding Cats” is a brand name for an inexpensive wine. This incongruous metaphor reminds us of just how independent and uncooperative the feline persuasion can be. Baxter is a case in point. He has a mind of his own when it comes to where he wants to be and what he wants to do. He claims the whole house as his and allows me to share a chair, a bed, floor space or a window, if I behave. Cats are not pack animals. They prefer to go it alone or, at the very least, on their own terms. Herding cats just doesn’t work.

Jesus must have felt like He was trying to herd cats with His disciples at times. Each has his own idea about what to do, where to be, and how the Messiah was supposed to act. Can’t feed the five thousand. Too many folks! Don’t go to Jerusalem. Your enemies are out to get you! Don’t talk about suffering and death on the cross. Messiahs are anointed leaders not common criminals! Everyone wanted to go their own way and take Jesus with them. Only once did they all get in line to follow — for the parade into Jerusalem on what we know as Palm Sunday.

We have a natural tendency to get in line when it forms behind a winner. We want to be carried along on his or her coat tails, and reap the benefits of backing the strong man or woman. We’re thinking about ourselves — what this person can do for me — but we look like we are committed to the cause, loyal to the leader, faithful till the end. But then our true colors show. On Good Friday, no one was around at the trial, the scourging pillar, the cross. They all scattered like cats in a thunderstorm, hiding from the noise, the jeers, the threats, the accusations. Each afraid for him or her self, wondering how to escape or at least how to lie low until the heat is off. Cats are like that.

But despite all that, Jesus still loves cats. When we come back for a meal, He gives us the Eucharist. When we say we’re sorry, He forgives again and again. When we’re sick, He comforts us with prayers and anointing. When we think we’re in love with each other, He blesses and strengthens our desires with a sacrament that roots our love in God’s. He washes the harmful effects of our human condition away and welcomes us into the life of grace, and then He confirms our wish to follow Him as a disciple with the gift of the Holy Spirit. He sends us shepherds charged with leading His people with the heart of the Good Shepherd. In all of this, He keeps trying to herd our cattiness to become one Body of Christ.

Did you ever wonder why Jesus just doesn’t give up on us? Why He doesn’t stop trying to get us together in line behind Him on a journey to the Kingdom of God? Well, my only clue to an answer comes from living with Baxter. My life would be easier without him, less mess and less worry about being sure he’s taken care of when I’m not around. But it would be a lot lonelier, a lot more boring, and a lot less humorous without his foibles and antics. Maybe God feels the same way about us. Let’s give Him a chance to get us in line.

Desiring God

2011-04-10T00:00:00.000-07:00

Baxter is not easily deterred when he wants something. For instance, food. At first, he tries to charm me into feeding him -- soft meows, rubbing against my leg, lying coyly at my feet, sitting quietly in the kitchen with pleading eyes fixed on me. If those antics don’t work, then he gets serious and assertive. He sits in front of wherever I might be, stares intently, and lets loose this death-rattling cry, sustained on one note and interrupted only to take a breath before beginning again. There’s no ignoring this scream. I have to do something.

I remind him that he just ate a half hour ago, but he won’t hear it. So I figure out something to satisfy him — a pinch of catnip, a treat morsel, some cat milk, or a diversion like a bird outside the window or a visit to the garage. These distractions work for a little while but they won’t keep him from his primary objective — another meal. Only if I leave the house while he is preoccupied with the consolation prize, will he settle instead for his second heartfelt desire, sleep, and give up on the meal for a while. But this is only a temporary fix. When I return after a few hours, he will return as well to his original mission, and the routine repeats itself. He knows what he wants; he doesn’t forget; and he is resolute in getting it.

What about us? Lent is the time for us to focus our desires on the right things in life, and to set our resolve to follow them. Prayer, fasting and almsgiving are meant to tame our passions for the fleeting pleasures of life, and focus them on the lasting treasure of God’s love for us. Do we want God in our lives? Are we willing to do what it takes to include Him?

Wanting God doesn’t mean that we abandon everything else. We still have to work for a living, raise the children, cheer for our favorite teams, solve our financial problems, get an education, care for our sick and buy groceries among other things. However, with a focus on God, we do these things with an eye to how they serve a bigger purpose. God is present in our work and family, our chores and recreation. Lent should help us see God in these undertakings, and seek His guidance and support. This, in turn, should affect the way we go about fulfilling our regular tasks for living. We bring principles and virtues to bear on them. Everything is not permitted because God counts on us to uphold our dignity and responsibility as His children. Everything should be done with an eye to respecting ourselves and others, serving them and uniting us as a people who share a common Father in God.

Now this may sound too much for the pressures of daily life. How do you sustain the attitudes that come from faith in the face of the pressures to get things done? How do you follow principles of right and wrong in a world that is cut throat and pragmatic? Fortitude is called for. We need a sense of firmness about our convictions and follow through in our actions, even while we do so with compassion and understanding. Fortitude also helps us to start over when we fail. Making a mistake is not a disaster unless we give in to the mistake and give up. The Sacrament of Penance is meant to strengthen our resolve to try again.

How often in the Gospel accounts do we encounter people who persist in getting what they want from Jesus? Think of Simeon waiting in the temple for the Messiah, the Canaanite woman pleading for her possessed daughter, Zacchaeus who wants to see, Nicodemus meeting late at night to understand. Despite the different obstacles they faced, these characters are resolute in their various efforts to seek the Lord and His presence and power in their lives. Faith without fortitude is bound to fail, but fortitude without faith is simply stubbornness, not a true virtue.

Baxter won’t give up when he wants to eat. We are offered the Bread of Life and the Cup of Salvation every Sunday at the Eucharist. Do we have the fortitude to hunger for this food in the way we celebrate and live our faith each day?

Fear of the Lord

2011-04-03T00:00:00.000-07:00

Baxter is easily spooked. Any strange sound will set him off. A door slamming, the crunching of cellophane, popping bubble wrap, a door bell, they all get him scurrying for cover under the bed or behind a door. Baxter scares easily, and hides to protect himself from his imaginary fears.

He also gets easily excited about things that fascinate him. Birds in the tree outside the window, spiders crawling across the floor, other cats walking through the backyard, these all set him on high alert. He will sit in place for a half hour with ears perked, tail swishing like a metronome, eyes wide and bright, and murmuring energetic sounds that mean something in cat-speak. I suppose he is on the hunting prowl at such times, getting ready to pounce, if only the opportunity allows itself.

Our scriptures tell us, “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.” Baxter’s two examples of high alert can help us understand what a proper fear of the Lord is like.

Too often we think of the fear of the Lord as a threat. If we don’t do the right thing, God will get us. If we don’t practice our faith, something dreadful will happen to us. If we want to have “good luck,” we have to please the Lord, and like a happy grandfather, he will lavish undeserved fortune upon you. Fear in this sense plays games with the one we fear. It keeps a distance between us and whatever we fear so that we can control the object of our fear, avoid it, or at least protect ourselves from its effects. Fear generates an unhealthy guilt if we are caught displeasing the object of our fear. We act like kids caught with our hand in the cookie jar. We don’t regret trying for the goody; we regret getting caught at it. We think and act like immature children, or like Baxter, afraid of the doorbell.

But there’s another way to understand the fear of the Lord. God can fascinate us. He is “awesome,” as the kids would say. We get caught up in the grandeur of creation at the Grand Canyon, the depth of unselfish love in Mother Teresa, the precious innocence and wonder of a new-born baby, the spectacular silence of a star-filled summer sky, the beauty and joy of a Eucharist well celebrated. These moments place us in the presence of the Mystery that envelops and enfolds us. It is bigger than anything we can conceive and mightier than anything we can do to hold it back. Its Spirit is within us driving us to do and say things we did not think possible for us, but it is also beyond anything we can do and say leaving us with a few words of praise and thanksgiving or just awesome silence. Like Baxter on high alert looking at the birds singing in the trees, we feel fully alive before the Holy and charged with an energy whose source is outside ourselves.

To be ready for Easter, we need to cultivate this sense of the fear of the Lord -- the wonderful, awesome, fascinating and overwhelming encounters with the Holy that fill our world. Financial insecurity, personal loss of a loved one, guilt over past sins, the threat of terrorism or natural disasters are all fears that can crowd out the true sense of our fear of the Lord. We read in the gospel, “Fear is useless. What is needed is trust.” Trust the mystery that claimed you as part of its life in your initiation into the Church. Then stand ready to hunt for it again and again every time a bird sings or you come to church.

Prudence

2011-03-27T00:00:00.000-07:00

I feed Baxter in phases. He gets 1/2 cup of weight reducing kibble twice a day — unfortunately, it doesn’t work at reducing his weight. Each quarter cup is served in two courses, usually separated by some time. You may wonder why I go to all this bother. Well, it wasn’t my idea. I would love to dump a bunch of kibble in the bowl for the day, and let him nibble on it as he fancies. However, I have learned through hard experience that this style just won’t work.

When it comes to food, Baxter’s recessive canine gene kicks in, and he gobbles whole whatever is placed before him. His digestive system though is fully feline, and it rejects this assault on his delicate stomach. The result is a mess.

So I feed Baxter in phases to make his stomach happy and me happy. Smaller portions, spread over time with full nutrition coming through the course of a day is a recipe for success. It takes more effort and discipline on my part, but it makes for a happier and cleaner house.

We might try this approach with other, more significant and meaningful things in our lives. We don’t have to absorb them all at once. We can take them in phases to digest them fully and make them a part of the fabric of our lives. We act prudently to get a full result.

Prudence is a virtue often missed in our dealings in today’s world. We want it all and we want it now. We get easily frustrated with steady progress that takes mini steps. We get excited about a special feast for a holiday, but we may be bored with our daily fare. Still, it is our regular diet that supports our strength and endurance for a healthy life. So with our lives of faith.

Prudence teaches us how to change our character by biting off no more than we can chew, but keeping at it until all the nourishment is eaten. If you want to pray more, pray a little more each day or week. If you want to fast for Lent, don’t starve yourself but cut back on the portions. If you want to be more generous with almsgiving, don’t write one check for $1,000 but ten checks over ten months for $100. If you want to get someone back to church, invite them for a particular Sunday Mass with perhaps breakfast to follow. The little way can make a big difference in time to change our character. Saint Therese of Lisieux knew that well.

Prudence is a measured approach to incorporate into real life what we treasure in the ideal. Our ideals should always be bigger than the conditions and attributes we have and hold right now. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be ideals. But prudence brings these visions of a full life and the values they embody down to earth, and gradually shapes our conditions and character accordingly. So to stop abortions, limit them through education and legislation, and change the conditions that make a person feel desperate about a pregnancy. To stop war, begin to insist that we talk to each other in our families, communities and among the community of nations to work out our problems. To end world hunger, waste less food and prepare more at home, then share the cost difference with a food bank. These practices won’t result in ideal conditions, but they will be better ones than we face now. The true virtue of prudence is not about compromising our ideals, but keeping us on track for getting better at realizing them. When God became incarnate in Christ to save us, He did not effect our salvation in an instant. Jesus took a lifetime and beyond to reveal the Father, for He lived, died, rose and sent forth the Spirit who continues His saving work in us and the world. The ingredients are set. The recipe is clear. They continue to feed us in our time and place until He comes again. This is what we profess at each Eucharist. God’s faithful prudence should inspire our own.

Baxter’s voracious appetite has been tamed by my measured feeding practices. Our appetite for God’s Kingdom on earth needs the discipline of prudence to use the Church’s teachings and practices, to live better lives in a better world. By now, Baxter has learned his feeding routine and resigned himself to it. Maybe we will discover how to be fed by our faith this Lent, and begin the steady path to a happier life.

Integrity

2011-03-20T00:00:00.000-07:00

Baxter is worried. Gas prices have increased significantly the past month. I heard in the news that a gallon on average rose 46 cents. Baxter doesn’t understand all the economics of oil price increases, but he does understand that if I have to spend more for gas, he may get less in treats. So he’s worried.

The price of oil affects so many things we use every day to get along in this world. Food, clothing, pharmaceuticals, household products are all more expensive when the price of oil rises. Oil lubricates more than our cars. It makes our world run smoothly. At this point in history, our everyday lives would probably stop in their tracks if oil, its refined products, and their many uses were no longer available to us. We would go back to a more primitive life style, less comfortable, convenient and connected throughout the world.

Integrity is the oil of our spiritual lives, and like the product that is often hidden in our physical existence, this virtue quietly supports and advances our lives of faith. However, it is a topic that we hear little about today. We are bombarded in the news with talk of justice and rights, of conflicting interests, and even of calls for compassion and clemency. But under it all is the need for integrity in our lives, and we don’t hear much about this key virtue.

Integrity (along with prudence, a topic for another day) is the source of know-how in our spirituality. If we have integrity, we know how to apply justice when different person’s rights are competing. If people of integrity sit down at the same table, they can get beyond their competing interests because they know that they are invested in each other. Integrity allows us to discern the difference between forgiveness and accountability and know that there is no contradiction between holding people responsible for their actions while never banishing them from our lives. Integrity tells us that we have a stake in each other’s life, and we can’t live as if what we do matters only to me and not us. It is not about what I have and you have, but what we hold together, and the most precious things in life are shared, not owned by anyone — love, creation, family, friends, God in Christ’s Spirit.

The word “integrity” means wholeness. It’s the virtue which brings life’s meaning all together at the center and applies it through all the ups and downs, blessings and sorrows life brings. It holds you together when you think you can’t take any more of the tension and pain. It fills out the pleasures of living by pointing them to a deeper goodness that is not fleeting. It lets you know you are not alone when you feel abandoned and betrayed. For the person of faith, integrity is rooted in God for He is the source of all that is, He made us in His image, and we are bonded together in Him as the Body of Christ. God made us to be whole, and His grace sustains our integrity. Sin breaks it apart.

Lent is a time to do an integrity check on ourselves. To make sure that there are no leaks, that we are using it efficiently when it is needed, and that we pay the price that is called for, even if we don’t like it. As we read in Luke’s Gospel, “What profit is there for one to gain the whole world yet lose or forfeit himself?” No one can advance in the spiritual life without integrity rooted in their faith.

Without oil, our world stops. Without integrity, our spirits shrink from the deception, distrust and fear that tear us apart. Whatever the price, we cannot afford to forfeit this virtue for the sake of our shared humanity and its salvation by God. Pray for the know how to live a life of integrity.

Don’t worry, Baxter. There will still be treats at bedtime.

Meet Baxter

2011-03-13T00:00:00.000-08:00

As some of you know, Baxter is my cat. We have been together for ten years, and although I provide food and shelter, Baxter owns the space and demands service. Cats are that way, you know.

Three things drive Baxter’s life: food, sleep and curiosity. Food is first. He is a big boy, and all the diet kibble in limited quantities I force upon him does not seem to have much effect upon his weight. Baxter loves to eat. Anytime, anywhere he is ready for a snack, or better, a full meal. He sometimes tries to deceive me into thinking I didn’t feed him, so that he can get a second round. (I’ve caught on to his tricks!) I have lectured him on acting more like a dog with an indiscriminate appetite rather than a finicky cat, but he does not heed my advice. Baxter just loves to eat!

He also loves to sleep. He has many bedrooms throughout the house, and he can find a relaxed posture in many different contortions — on his back, on his side, curled in a ball, with a paw over his eyes, or paws under his body in a lotus position. Baxter doesn’t just sleep to regain his energy. He loves to sleep. He enters into it fully, and cannot be disturbed when he is deep into it. The only thing that can arouse him from a serious nap is, of course, food. Otherwise, when he is sleeping, the world can pass Baxter by, and he has no regrets about missing anything.

Finally, Baxter is a curious cat. He hates closed doors. He has to know what’s behind them, even if it’s only a closet or the garage. He perks up at strange sounds, ears up and tail moving excitedly. He is mesmerized by birds at the window, and won’t let them out of his sight. He goes on high alert when he hears or sees something new on the horizon, and there is often no distracting his attention — not even with food. Baxter’s curiosity has gotten him into trouble at times. He has been trapped in closets for hours, been freezing in the garage because I forgot he was there, and he jumped off a 15 foot deck once over his excitement at the birds — he qualified for the Olympics with that one.

Why am I telling all of these things about my cat, Baxter? Because his antics have something to teach us about Lent. Fasting isn’t about hating food, but learning to appreciate it more as God’s gift to savor and relish. We eat less to taste more of the goodness that God offers us in creation. Lent is a time to slow down, rest in the Lord, gain confidence that God saves the world. We don’t. A sleeping cat exudes peace, and Lent is about finding peace with and among ourselves through God’s healing and reconciliation. Lastly, Lent is meant to spur our curiosity about God and God’s ways in our world. It is a time to reflect a little more deeply about the movements of the Spirit in our lives, and to understand more thoroughly our Tradition of the Catholic Christian faith. What’s behind the doors to the sacred we call the sacraments? From a faith perspective, what should we be alert to in the sights and sounds of our times? How do we capture a renewed excitement about our faith that will free us to jump into new efforts at sharing it?

A blessed Lent to us all from Baxter and his housemate.