The BLACK PANTHER and Leadership

(Something for Americans to think about):    

Son and I  recently saw the Black Panther movie.   None of my friends, around my age, had even heard of this movie!!   I find that astounding.  The ads for it are everywhere,  and  the movie has been all over the ordinary news:   Will the Black Panther movie sell?  How much money will it make?  How much money did it make!     The top one or two Google Search is “Where is Wakanda and how can I get there?” ( ha ha ha ha)

I would have gone alone,  but I’m glad Son was with me because it turned out to be one of those good, good movies that you want to share the experience with someone else.  The movie was action-filled with a good plot and heroes you could admire and villains that you hope would be defeated – and it was beautifully made!

Ever read “Architectural Digest”?     It’s an interesting magazine to browse once in a while.   Stretch your mental horizons.

Wakanda, where the Black Panther takes place, and particularly its chief city, was featured in a recent “Architectural Digest. ”     There are intriguing and functionally shaped tall buildings with evidences of extremely advanced technology, especially in communications, medicine,  and transportation.   (How long are we going to have to wait for them to develop a  mag-grav rail system?)

So, yes,  I’d encourage you to see the movie for many reasons, there are many visuals to enjoy and remember,   but the one thing that keeps coming back to me is not the visuals but the society and the system of  leadership exhibited by the King.   King T’Challa.

I’m going to praise him    (okay, I know he’s a fictional character)    and then contrast the leadership in the post-Christian Western World today.    King T’Challa is strong and healthy, and rather handsome like healthy people often are.    One can imagine his “natural” diet, free of manufactured (“processed”)  food . . . .  But he isn’t arrogant or self-conscious of his strength, “throwing his weight around,”  as they say.

He is willing and able to risk his life for his country, in ritual combat as well as in opposing the”bad guys.”    I’m sure he is not the strongest,  but he is the smartest fighter, and he fights to defend his people.

He is one hundred percent patriotic and supportive of his country, rejecting foreign influences in the governance of his country –  no globalism there!

He is smart, intelligent,  but that’s not enough.  (Many are born “intelligent.”)   He has used his intelligence to learn the things that a king must know to rule well.     He is mentally strong and focused and determined and self-disciplined enough to have earned many Ph.D.s –  economics,  sociology,   history, psychology, architecture  . . .  some other things.   Whatever.  The point is he has worked very hard to train himself for the good of the people he would some day rule.

Watching King T’Challa is like watching Good Leadership in action.     The kingdom is blessed.

Contrast that with a “kingdom” which is no longer blessed.   Though we think we are.

    Many of us will hear the story this week  of the Passion, including the scene of Jesus standing before Pilate who says, “Don’t you realize I have the power of life or death over you?”     Jesus instructs Pilate where ruling authority comes from:   “You would have no authority unless my Father in Heaven gave it to you.”

So we can learn from that that our Creator cares about how we acknowledge Him, honor Him, and we are blessed by Him insofar as we cooperate with Him.     And if we don’t?

Isaiah, the great prophet of Israel,  described what happens to a nation which rejects God’s sovereignty over nations and their rulers.    God will take away good rulers from that nation.

And we’ll have trouble figuring out whom we should elect . . . .  because in place of good rulers,  God will punish us with people who are inadequate, unable to keep us safe or peaceful or prosperous.

Isaiah chapter 3:   For behold the sovereign  Lord of hosts shall take away from (Jerusalem) . . .  the valiant and the strong . . .  the strong man . . .    (No King T’Challa for the U.S.)     Valiant, brave,  not fearful of political criticism.    And the man of war  . . .  (able to fight for the country) . . . the judge (presuming a judge who administers justice, fairly and wisely)  . . .  the cunning man . . .  (those who have studied and understand the wisdom of God) . . .  and the prophet . . .   (God will take away those who speak out for the Good.  As some Catholic prophecies say:  “Those who should speak out will remain silent.”)

Further,   God will take away from that nation:   “the ancient . . . and the captain over fifty  . . .  (experienced and able leadership in all areas of society)  . . .  and the honorable in countenance  (need I describe the “celebrities” today who are so often set before our eyes, dishonorable and indecent )  . . .  the counselor (what counselor can you trust?   How many conflicting “counseling” voices we have today!)    . . .   the ancient  (these are our older people with life-wisdom and experience who are ready to give us guidance.    “Gray hair”  has always in human history been a sign of dignity and honor – until now.)

Here’s Isaiah 3:4,  (verse 4)   –   And I will give children to be their princes, and the effeminate shall rule over them    (Immature,  childish, selfish leaders,   and you know who  the “effeminate” are,  the 1.8% of our population who dictate social policy for all.)

And this last one:  Verse 5:   (Strife, Strife, Violence and Strife) —  And the people shall rush one upon another, and every man against his neighbor: the child shall make a tumult against the ancient, and the base against the honorable. 

We have a spirit of opposition,  division,  strife,  polemicism,  litigiousness, and rude personal behavior – everywhere!    it’s like an evil supernatural cloud has descended upon us.

The young people will make a “tumult”  against the adults.     Well, Exhibit A is happening this weekend, isn’t it!

And soon the church,  the universal Church which is supposed to lead the world in morals and grace and the knowledge of God — is going to TWICE this year “consult with the young people”  to find out what direction they’d like the Church to go!!!     Catholic young people will be encouraged to make their “tumult”  against their elders.

I’m afraid there are signs that God has already taken away “leadership” from this world’s present culture.

A leaderless people is like a herd of sheep without a shepherd . . .  or with a bad shepherd (dog).   Who can forget   the scene in Thomas Hardy’s Far From the Madding Crowd in which the sheep dog goes bad  . . .

. . .  and leads the sheep this way and that way and finally drives the entire herd of sheep over the white cliffs  to their death in the sea below?

 

COUNTING ON COUNTER . . . TOPS

There are certain things you want to be able to count on.

And one of them is having your counter tops where they belong in your kitchen.    I can’t believe how many times I’ve tried to put down a cup or a glass,  car keys,  the mail,  whatever, just right down where they temporarily “belong” in everyday life.

And there have been on counter tops around her for a few days.

It’s getting downright ugly —

No place to put anything.   And most shocking of all —  no place to get things from!    Things just “aren’t there.”

I’ve got good guys working for me –

And outside too —

But sometimes I’m even locked out of my own kitchen, or what’s left of it  —

It’s amazing how many times I count on my kitchen being the way it always is.    How many times I walk through and need to just rinse off my hands.     No sink.      I just need to use my big kitchen scissors.   No drawer.     I need to just get a big glass of . . .     not there.

My kitchen will be patched up soon.      Looking like new, I think.   At least,  that’s the plan.    I’m not so good at “new,”   but I think it was past time for an update.

While my life has been disrupted,  I’ve had time to think of all the other things we count on in life,  but the most important always comes down to people and relationships.

You count on your friends being there for you once in a while — and they count on you being there for them, friendly-like,  willing to smile, to accept,  to listen, to help sometimes.

You count on your Mom and Dad being there FOR EACH OTHER as you’re growing up.       Otherwise, there’s a deep wounded place inside you  that never works quite right,  never feels quite right.

You count on your “whole world”  being there for you,  whenever you need it or parts of it:  you can always get those books you were meaning to read;   you can always get that training or education you’re planning on doing;    you can always make those personal self-improvements you know you should.

You want to count on God being there, so you can get to know Him better “some day.” .  You can always be praying,    not for something “big”  but just to communicate with God,  adore Him,  worship Him,  honor Him, as you know a created being should.

He’s always there.    He’s the One who is never “under construction”  and “unavailable.”

THE RESTRAINING HAND OF “NUNCA MAS! ”

Last time I wrote about the “restraining hand”  that governments and citizens are both subject to in public life; that is, the restraining hand of universal moral law.   If it’s not there,  the power of government increases until there is only the law of barbarism – “might makes right,” and our Rulers can command us, now, even to violate our faith and our consciences.   Barbarism in the spiritual realm as well as the physical realm.

Today I pay homage to a restraining hand in my own life.   It is the feast day of St. Francis de Borgia, a saint who teaches, commands, and governs by the example of his personal and public life.

Born to a distinguished noble family in Spain, Francis was a good man, intelligent, self-disciplined, well-educated, devout, and highly esteemed for his honesty and devotion to duty.   He danced and sang and wrote music and loved poetry and sports competitions.      I can identify with this man!

Through it all he endeavored to serve Christ well.  He was severe on himself in prayer and penance and aiding the poor and the unemployed in his region. Those who owned land and large estates governed their own households well, keeping in mind the welfare of their descendants, but they were also obliged – by Christian duty – to care for those nearby who were without material advantage.

The people loved him and trusted him.

This was the 16th century.  Ferdinand and Isabella were king and queen.     When the beloved and beautiful Queen Isabella died, the royal family gave to Francis the sad and solemn honor of accompanying her body to Grenada, to the royal burial place.   The purpose was to guard the body and assure that it is she who is really being buried.

Imagine this.   It’s sunny Spain.   A journey of many days for the dead body.   And then – Francis had the “honor”  of looking into the coffin and verifying that it is the body of the queen.

At Grenada, no one could even enter the room where the coffin was placed.   The odor of physical decay was overpowering and sickening.  But Francis had to do his duty.

He approached.  He opened.  He peeked.  But he couldn’t identify the horrifying mess that was the face of his queen.   He verified only on his honor that he had never stopped guarding the coffin.

And he was changed.   “Nunca mas!”  he said.  “Nunca mas servir a senor que se me pueda morir!”

The horrifying realization that gave rise to this exclamation makes me shudder, deep down, where I understand this;  I understand this turning away from “serving a master which leads only to  death.”

From then on,  more single-mindedly, more fervently, he intensified the care of his own soul.   The things of this world, the things that matter here, all end in death and horrifying putrefaction.   All things here…come to this end.

I hear his words:  Nunca mas!  (No more!  Never again!)    Deep down,  where I understand this,  I know it’s time for me to “grow up”  and get serious about serving the Master who offers everlasting Life and Beauty and Health and Joy.

Francis is an acknowledged saint now.   He served his Lord Jesus Christ who died for us all to give us Life and so that death and decay will not be our final end.

Francis served Our Lord  with a joyful, but sober and vigorous devotion.

It is his example which keeps pulling me back to the Path of Life.   His words remind me to act wisely.   He is a “heavy hand” on my shoulder, sometimes,  but i am grateful because  that which remains of him, proves that the lesson he learned is a real one:

Thank you to a kind Christian friend who gave me this tangible piece of St. Francis’s life, a relic from something he doesn’t need anymore,  a third order relic, in the tiny little circle, which speaks to me as soberly as “Nunca mas!”

 

 

 

DRAGON FIGHTING FOR ADULTS

I taught eighth grade for a little while.  Many in the class were huge 13-year-old farm boys with more testosterone and big muscles than they knew what to do with.   Frequently there were playground fights.  Or hallway fights.   You get to recognize the signs that a fight is brewing by listening to the way they talk to each other.    Insults.    Irritation.   Put-downs.    Bullying.   Soon as you recognize any of that it’s about too late.

So I took to sitting on my desk as the class came in after lunchtime, available for talking and listening.   They were usually growly, drowsy, and eager for some diversion (i.e., trouble).  Whatever they ate slowed them down enough to be able  to listen, sort of, and sometimes they talked:  complaints,  problems. . .  trouble.

The one thing that seemed to make sense to them was when we got to the point where I defended the underdog and I’d say, not in these words,  but in meaning:  “Don’t pick on him – (don’t add to his problems) –  you never know what dragons he’s fighting all by himself.”

These boys understood that.  At home they were often yelled at, sworn at, smacked around, dissed;  things were unfair and life was hard.   Common to them all were injuries, sickness, heartaches, shame,  loss, and grief.

(A turning point came after one day’s fight and they found out that the wimp they  picking on had “wimped out”  that day because the night before his father had been arrested for something.    Shame and shock.     I didn’t report the fight.  I didn’t even ask for confessions, exactly.   But between the bloody nose and the dragon talk,  I really perceived a change in attitude from the class — and the “wimp”  walked home with new friends that day.)

It was the first time many of them realized that other people could be hurting too, and the “dragons”  that were attacking  made a kid look weak and vulnerable – ripe for picking on.    Easy targets.

But life can throw huge dragons at everyone – even the big bullies – and they knew it.

To make life better takes hard work – and that’s what I was getting at in my last posting about the victims of the Oklahoma tornadoes.   Normal people want to  “do something” to show their caring and compassion, their love.

I had written that even prayer was a kind of work of compassion, and not too easy at that.  That’s why I was glad to see that photo above on the Drudge Report a couple days ago, and others like it.   The victims are asking for prayer too, because they know they need a little more than money and material goods.

They need. . . they have needs. . . they have their dragons. . . .we’re all vulnerable to the hardships of this life.

Our Creator knows that, and that’s why one of the first rules of his “manual for the human race”  is Love Thy Neighbor.    Love him and help him fight his dragons.     Prayer is effective against dragons.   It’s our “work.”

Or do you think you’re a tougher eighth-grader than anyone else!!!?

LETTER TO SELF

I woke up to this a morning or two ago:

I’m usually not so awake that early  in the morning to notice what’s outside my window let alone go find the camera.     The colors didn’t come out too well,  but the leaves on the trees are just beginning to change and the morning sun drew my attention to these very early first Fall colors.

Early Fall.   Early Autumn.   My birthday.

And I think I’m in the Early Autumn of my life.  It’s a good time in a person’s lifespan, if you make it that far.    The time-consuming puzzlements of family and career and personal choices have pretty much resolved themselves, and there is a nice sense of acceptance and even understanding of just what was and is important – and what is not.

I came through some pretty bad times, and I look back on my younger self with sadness and kindness.    I made it through all right;   happiness is possible.       I also look back and see that I didn’t use all the hours and minutes I could have for doing the things that I must and for learning and for enjoying the life around me.    It’s okay, though.   That’s common, I suppose.

It would have been interesting, when I was younger,  to have  read a letter from my older self.    And because I know now what I would have written in such a letter,  I sometimes imagine what my old-older self would write to me now.

It wouldn’t be like the Bucket List that is much talked about.    That’s fun.   That’s merely a fun To-Do list.   Quite trivial, when you think about it.    And in the context of today’s growing economic woes and approaching wars and totalitarian responses of the governing powers,  a Bucket List is becoming increasingly unrealistic.

If I could write to my now-self some day in the future, just before I lie down on my last bed, I know I would encourage myself to hold on to the knowledge of the temporary nature of life in this world;  to firmly keep before me that this life is more than merely a “test,”  it is a training ground for my eternal existence.       I prove now to my Creator who I am  (who I think I am)  and in what relationship I want to be with Him forever in Eternity.

Surprisingly,  paradoxically,  that is a project that gives great peace and joy in this life.   Whatever happens in the world,  whatever happens to me,  all my activities will matter very much in the end.

Dear Young Me,    The best is yet to come!

SHE HATH DONE WHAT SHE COULD

A belated Happy Easter to all of you –

I’ve not had too good an understanding of what day it is lately.   I spent a good deal of time this evening fretting that it’s Tuesday already (it isn’t)  while still wondering where Sunday  (Easter Sunday)  went.   I’ve been sleeping on and off, lying low,  “taking care of myself,” and even managed to go see a doctor on….Sunday.

The verdict is:  I’m not contagious.   Diagnosis from the doctor:  “I’m mystified.”    Not a word you want to hear from your doctor, but we jointly agreed that my throat is still “injured” from the unspecified throat infection and there is an inflammatory process going on, soon to diminish, I hope.    If not — well, the doctor has a “plan” — which I hope I won’t have to take advantage of.    So.    Lots of rest in the coming days.  Don’t call me.   I’m not talking.

It was Easter Day, however, and it still is Easter.  This time is called the Octave of Easter because the Church knows that we need more than just one day to take it all in.   Let us not treat our Easter meditations the same way we treat our Easter dinner leftovers!        More fortunately for us,  we can sit at a fresh new banquet of Easter lessons each day of this Octave.

I know today we are “served up”  the experience of the two disciples on the Road to Emmaus,  but since I’m already mixed up in my days, I would like to, instead,  write to you a little “leftover”  thought I had from Holy Week.

It’s the familiar story of the woman of Bethania who broke open the alabaster jar and anointed Our Lord with its contents,  the costly spikenard.    The disciples, led by Judas, objected to the “waste” of money, but were silenced by the gentle words of Jesus who explained the meaning of what she was doing.

I doubt if they understood His explanation any more than they understood Him when He told them flat-out with plain words that soon they would all enter Jerusalem where he would be executed and then rise again in three days.    That went over their head, at the time.

I also don’t think this woman fully understood why she was inspired to anoint Jesus at this time, the beginning of Holy Week.   I doubt if she knew there would be an actual burial with in a week.

But what were those gentle words from Jesus that summed up this woman’s actions?   From Mark 14:8 –  “She hath done what she could..”    

I also don’t fully understand the full import of Easter.   I don’t fully comprehend the wonders of our Redemption by His death and Resurrection.     I celebrated Easter Day as best I could this year, and I will keep the Octave of Easter as best I can.

When I think of this woman of Bethania, of her total  devotion to Jesus, of her fearless act of love,   I see that she has set a very high standard for us to follow.   It’s a standard of “total abandonment” to Our Lord, whatever He allows into our lives.   Even if, like the woman, we don’t fully understand everything, we do what we can.     

“She hath done what she could.”

 

 

HE LET THE PEOPLE, THIS TIME

Palm Sunday:

Didn’t want to go to church today.    Haven’t quite “pulled myself together”  after my trip.   Or maybe because it’s the fourth week of this “sort throat”  thing.   I don’t feel like doing anything.    Don’t even feel like pulling myself together.

I always tell my classes that we should be thankful for the rules of the Church because sometimes we don’t feel like doing what we ought to do —  and if we do what we feel like doing, we’d miss out on a lot of good things that God intends for us.

So I went to church.

 But I let my mind wander.

In the background of my mind I heard the Gospel.     Some of the people of Jerusalem gathered palms and welcomed Jesus into the city as their king.    He was, but not that kind of king.   It was nice to hear and almost feel their joy and enthusiasm. . . .

Once before these kind of people had wanted to proclaim Him their king, and He didn’t let them.  It was after He had fed the hungry multitude on the mountainside.  They realized that He had fed them and there was an abundance left over for when they had need again.   That’s the kind of king you want.  A miracle-maker!    One that would take care of all your needs in this life.

But at that time Jesus wouldn’t let them make him their king.   He discreetly, swiftly,  mystically made himself disappear from their presence.

Today, entering Jerusalem for the last time,   knowing these same people would be among those calling for His death,  this time He let them proclaim Him to be their king.

Why did He let them do that this time?

There are important issues here that will draw us into the reality of  Our Lord’s life and death. . . .

The “issues” are dancing in and out of my mind.   I haven’t pulled it all together yet.   He is King.   Christ is King.   But not that kind of king.   But He let them honor Him as king.   Precious thoughts that belong to the Holy Week ahead of us.   Precious pieces that begin to make sense, now and then.    Pieces I wouldn’t have had if I hadn’t gone to church today;    sick, tired, fussy,  I had no energy to wave palms for Him, but He gave me some “pieces” to think about.

Deo gratias.

 

 

 

(I-80 – CA) ONE DAY A WEEK

I want to share this with everyone I know and care about.    I think it’s because I want you to be happy too.

I set out one day on this long, sloping mountain road:

Actually, it was quite a long downgrade with many curves.    About 30 minutes later I was still driving and trying very hard to keep the camera out of my hands:

 I know that no matter how many photos I show you,  I’d still feel that I had left out “the best one.”

Another fifteen or so minutes more of driving and I reached my goal:There were three of these copper doors, each with lovely scenes embossed into them.    These two are the center doors of the original cathedral of Reno, Nevada.   I couldn’t wait to see what was inside.

Now, I can’t show you what was inside on that day, because what was going on was very holy,  very serious, very reverent, and breathtakingly lovely.

But I went back the next week, when nothing formal was going on inside, and I could take pictures and not disturb the few people who were there inside, praying.

When you open those copper doors,  and if you look slightly to the left,  you can see this:

I’ve done nothing to the lighting.  Indeed, I don’t have  my usual photo editing software with me, so the pictures are exactly what the camera has seen, without improvements.

Some of you may recognize the outline of the white glowing statue.

And closer up:

It is a very valuable and rare reproduction of The Pieta by Michelangelo Buonarroti, the original housed in St. Peter’s basilica in Rome.   This cathedral in Reno is privileged to have it.   I’ve never seen the original,  but this reproduction held me spellbound for quite some time.  The love.   The pain.    The horror.   The reason.       Some….man…carved…all this…and recreates this scene from our history.

I stepped back for a while and looked at the other things inside the cathedral.    All around me I saw beautiful art work.   It was similar to being in a small museum, but the art was chosen for its special meaning, each piece telling the story of our salvation by the hands of a Loving God.

Over to the right was an important scene:

It’s a serene scene of the Holy Family.   This is the Family we are gathered into — if we so desire it.    Foster Father, Mother, and Christ our Brother.    The excellence of the expressions on their faces inspire us to like holiness -and to thoughtfulness: can we live worthy of belonging to them?    They know how;  they know the way;   this scene presents to us Jesus the Way.

Those of you who can recognize doors like this — and who know what’s behind them — know the power that Jesus our Savior brings to each one of us:

I wish I could take all of you into this quiet and beautiful place of worship.

I wish you could have smelled the sweet incense – a physical reminder of our prayers rising to God.    I wish you could have heard the singing, peaceful and celestial, a beautiful and fitting enhancement to the holy Service to God that goes on for us — at least one day a week.

Yes, it is a “rule”  that we must take part in such a thing on a certain “one day a week.”   That whole day, Sunday, is holy and lovely.    But what could keep us away from our weekly service to God when there are reminders like this cathedral of the beauty that is worship!