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More bench marks

I took this shot on Sunday. The weather remains summer-like.

A gracious November gift. This is the bench I rest on after my

daily walks. Here, I watch a fascinating world go by and I enjoy every

minute.

As I left the house on Sunday, I walked across the street to make

my way to the BART station to attend Mass at the Cathedral. As I

crossed the street, the woman who lives in an apartment on the corner

greeted me as she sipped coffee on her outdoor staircase.

She asked if I was a grad-student. I told her I was on a three month

sabbatical. Immediately, she started telling me that she was a single

mother of five children, a new Catholic and struggling to find her

place within the Church. She is a nurse now sorting out the future

with a degree in ministry.

I remain impressed with our two minute conversation. I hear

so often people struggling to find their way into ministry that seems

often to be filled with politics, division and jealousy. I pray for her and

her children and am grateful for her risk to open up to a stranger and

to be honest about her struggles within the Church community.

There is so much for us as a Church to become, so much for us to

offer people.

As I returned from Mass, I sat alone in the BART station on a concrete bench. A man entered the station and came over and sat next to me. I realized immediately he suffers from mental illness. He told me he was a veteran and that he was having trouble with his BART ticket.

When the train came he followed me into the car and sat facing me on the train.

He talked non-stop all the way to my destination in Berkeley.

I finally had to wish him well and leave. He was still talking to me as I hustled off the train with dozens of other people.

These encounters show me the grace of God's path. Everyone is waiting

for a kind ear, a non-judgmental presence, a moment of hospitality, an act

of sincerity and a conversation of hope.

Inside Cathedral of Christ the Light

The entire sanctuary is filled with scaffolding.

The organ will be on both sides of the sanctuary.

Only half of the seating is open during construction

which will be finished in January.

Diocese of Oakland Cathedral

Entrance to the Cathedral of Christ the Light

in Oakland, CA.

I attended Eucharist there this morning. The city

block opening the Chancery, Cathedral, meeting

spaces and resources to the poor including a health

clinic and legal clinic expands my imagination a great

deal.

The inside unfortunately was in the process of construction

for a new pipe organ. I really liked the feeling of the space

but I was certainly surprised at how small it is for a Cathedral.

I realize half of the seating was blocked off, however, few people

attend because the parish was created after combining several

parishes.

The building is beautiful, but the community will take time

to adjust to the new space. The music program is in its infancy.

The preaching was lackluster. It will take twenty or so years to

grow into the magnificent space for worship.

I will show some photos of the inside as well.

Fake hair and loving memories

So today is the day we find out that Andre Agassi's long hair was fake on the tennis court in the early 1990's. I wish it could only be a Halloween joke but here it is in Yahoo News. I miss the truth. So many things remain transient, fleeting, and difficult to capture. Our memories as well are sometimes stark, narrow and selfish.

The memories we carry in this weekend of All Saints can become for us real food for thought, reflection and prayer. These memories are not just of official saints on the church calendar, but friends, loved ones and people who have taught us so much in life and who still teach us in death.

I miss some of my friends this weekend as we celebrate All Saints and All Souls. Today would have been Richard Feigenbaum's 60th birthday, a priest and mentor of mine. I first met him when he was 27 and a student at Notre Dame. He stood me up on my feet many times when I thought I could not continue in seminary. He provided a kind ear and thoughtful soul as he helped me explore my gifts, talents and dreams. I am having trouble today sorting through the rapid pace of time. Life is going so fast. He died in 1992 of AIDS. The roles certainly reversed when he was ill. I became his sounding board on his difficult days. I l listened to his silent suffering and his inability to let go of life. Some relationships cling to the heart forever, the kind ones that last for all eternity. This is the feasting of All Saints, the celebration of people, love and relationships that give us life still on earth.

Sr. Amadeus, CSC died on All Souls day in the late '80's. She was a feisty, Irish woman who would not take "no" from anyone. She insisted that she would teach me how to sing. I gave in and she offered me voice lessons and a deep realization that singing was profound prayer. I was already a deacon when she brought me into her parlor to make sure I could sing the liturgy. Every time I sing at the Eucharist, especially this time of year, I remember the bright-eyed nun who opened my mind, mouth and heart.

I suppose there are many memories that I over-interpret and hold on to too tightly. Andre's hair reminds me that so many things in life are fake and we have to be careful what we think is beautiful and enduring. On this weekend, I remember the people who keep loving me no matter how I remember them or how I cling to things so foolishly.

Bench marks

I sit on a bench at the end of Telegraph Avenue at Bancroft during the lunch hour. After walking for at least an hour in the hills, I really enjoy just sitting watching crowds of people stroll by the intersection. The crowd consists of UC Berkeley students, professors, local business people and a few homeless people looking for leftovers.


Last week I noticed a man rummaging through the trashcans. He pulled out a clear plastic container half-filled with brown rice. He took the container and came over and sat near me. He started to eat the leftovers and then suddenly sat the container on a concrete wall behind him. Another homeless man strolled along and came over to him. Without saying a word to him, the first man offered him the container of food. The second man politely refused and continued walking.


I felt the gesture deep in my heart. The simple gesture of offering food touched me in the midst of people scurrying about, not paying attention. The wordless gesture happened in the center of students obliviously walking along attached to IPods. It took place in the hustle and bustle of making sure people gulped lunch before the next class or during their confined lunch period. The gesture of hospitality happened within the busyness of people who have the means to buy food and the means to throw half of it away. It happened when most people with money were ignoring one another. It happened silently as some students were playing loud music down the block. It happened during the time when students sit at tables trying to sign up people to help with social justice causes or to enroll names on surveys or petitions. The simple offering of food to someone who was hungry seemed to happen in slow motion as I sat on the bench enjoying the sunshine and kindness of people. This is God’s quiet work. The shy Spirit builds relationships with people who blend into the scene and who do not wear the latest fashions.


Last Thursday I met Kelli Aviles on that bench. Kelli was our first Faith and Service Intern at the Downtown Chapel two years ago. She rode her bike down from Portland and is here for the month. I told her the story of the silent gesture of food. We sat together reminiscing for nearly four hours. We shared stories, laughs, a sandwich and some left over memories of serving people on another corner, on 6th and Burnside.


I meet her again tomorrow, same time and same bench.

dignity of women

Luke 13:10-17
Jesus was teaching in a synagogue on the Sabbath. And a woman was there who for eighteen years had been crippled by a spirit. She was bent over, completely incapable of standing erect. When Jesus saw her, he called to her and said, “Woman, you are set free of your infirmity.” He laid his hands on her and she at once stood up straight and glorified God. But the leaders of the synagogue, indignant that Jesus had cured on the Sabbath, said to the crowd in reply, “There are six days when work should be done. Come on those days to be cured, not on the Sabbath.” The Lord said in reply, “Hypocrites! Does not each one of you on the Sabbath untie his ox or his ass from the manger and lead it out for watering? This daughter of Abraham, whom Satan has bound for eighteen years now, ought she not to have been set free on the Sabbath day from this bondage?” When he said this all his adversaries were humiliated; and the whole crowd rejoiced at all the splendid deeds done by him.


Today’s Gospel invites us to explore the dignity of women in all areas of our culture and Church.


I attended a workshop on Saturday about human trafficking. I learned a great deal about our worldwide problem of slavery of women and children for work and prostitution. The numbers are staggering and the issues too enormous to comprehend. But listening to the Gospel for today, I realize once again that women still live in the shadows of culture and the Church.


I wonder if we are really listening to the Gospel by the way we treat people living on the margins of society. Christ gave us the example as he does in so many stories to lift people up, to help people get on their feet so they may see the light. The way we treat women, children, people living in poverty, our runaway kids or people with incurable diseases suffocates our faith.


At the workshop on Saturday, I learned that there are structural factors in our culture that lead to sex trafficking- -sex inequality, prostitution, poverty, childhood sexual abuse and neglect, lack of educational access, racism, rural-to-urban migration, government that protects the rich and tourism. I learned that 65-90% of prostitutes were sexually abused as children and nearly 75% were homeless at some point. Only 2% of all prostitutes chose prostitution and have the means to get out of prostitution. We keep women bent down, oppressed and neglected because we do not see the value of women in our culture.


The Vatican visit to our American communities of professed religious women also raises suspicion on so many levels. The American Church needs to honor the dignity of women serving, living and praying in the Church, to be grateful for the Spirit’s guidance to raise up women on their feet, so they may see the light of Christ. Jesus honored the powerless even on the Sabbath. He broke through the bonds of culture and religion as an example for us today to honor the broken, the fragile, the sick and marginalized of our culture. He showed us that it is always the correct day to honor women who have been bent down because of our sin and neglect.


I just heard on the radio that a raid on prostitutes and pimps has just happened. Over 700 arrests made in several US cities. The youngest prostitute is ten years old.