Where's the charity in church pews and parking lots?

Twice a year our churches overflow with worshippers. Our faith family gathers to celebrate two occasions so important they can't be contained within one day, or even the eight (octave) dedicated to them. No, we do it right and celebrate an entire season in which we proclaim the glory of God with exuberance. We sing, pray, share food and are called to take that excitement into the world.

It lasts until we reach the parking lot. All the love and good-will gets sucked out of most people as quickly as the darkness of Mordor overcomes all but the purest of heart because it takes an extra seven minutes to get home.

Washing the feet of others in loving service, we embrace. Letting someone back out of their spot and get one full car length ahead of us? Well, let's not put words into Jesus's mouth and proclaim he meant for charity and service to extend that far.

That is assuming we let our rejoicing reach the parking lot. Instead of praising God for calling all his children home to worship on these most special of occasions (a priest friend reminded me many times there is grace in showing-up; don't be stingy with the grace and mercy of God, He's not) we get frustrated that our regular spot is taken, that people are still responding, "And also with you," and there are so many children with their "NOISE NOISE NOISE NOISE*" Bonus points to readers who recognize the quote without looking at the footnote.

Bloggers are abuzz this week talking about noisy children at Mass. Who knew it could be such a polarizing issue? Me. My wife and I have experienced first-hand the scorn of people that don't appreciate sitting near four children.

Oh, we have stories. But first, let me make a few points:

• We sit in the second or third row every week. Have for years. Even when we moved parishes we found a nice comfy spot right in front of the alter so our kids can see what's going on. Call me crazy, but I think it's easier to teach children about something if they can actually see it.
• There are different kinds and levels of noise children make. Babies babble. Kids ask questions and don't always whisper. There's the occasional fight over who sits where or who had what book first. Our three-year-old blurts out, "I have to go pee!" because she seems to have some weird fascination with public washrooms. And, the odd time there is inconsolable crying that requires my wife take me out in respect for people that appreciate having their eardrums intact.
• Kids aren't the only people that make noise during Mass. People clear their throat. The old guy with the hankie honks when he blows his nose. It can sound like drums when people slam their hymnal down. All can be distracting, but are considered "normal" sounds at Mass.
• My children are baptized members of this community and are subject to the same privileges, rights and responsibilities as everyone else. 
• I consider the crying room, or play room, nothing short of a ghetto that segregates vital members of the parish family. I do think a temporary space to take that screaming child is required, and I'm thankful we have one. But how did that noble concept ever gain traction and become incorporated into construction plans? Did the conversation go something like, "Hey, we really need to get more families coming to church. What can we do?" "I know, let's shove them into an isolation chamber and put toys in there so the kids never want to leave!" "We better pump some sound in there on the cheapest Radio Shack speakers we can find so parents feel welcome and connected to the liturgy." "Perfect! And that will help catechise the children and get them used to the idea of living their baptismal call."

Back to the stories. Most recently, my wife was given the evil eye by a woman in front of us when our 20-month-old daughter cried. My wife felt extremely uncomfortable, and being a sensitive woman (is that redundant?) she was on the verge of tears.

The very next week, I was reading a Bible story to our three-year-old before Mass, and the woman in front of me (not the same one that glared at my wife) turned to me, rosary in hand, and said, "Do you mind. I'm praying, and your reading is distracting me."

It's not often I'm lost for words, but I didn't know how to respond. Over the next several days I came up with all sorts of witty, yet charitable, zingers. But at that moment all I could muster was, "OK. I understand," and went back to quietly reading to my daughter. The woman left. I assumed she simply relocated, but she returned with reinforcements, who didn't seem at all perturbed by the sight or sound of a father reading Bible stories inside a church.

"Where sin abounds, grace abounds all the more." (Rom 5:20)

The same week my wife was scolded, a woman behind us had her arms out while praying the Our Father. Our youngest, now calmed down, took the familiar gesture as an offer to get picked-up and held. The woman graciously obliged, picked her up and held her the rest of Mass.

For every negative encounter, I can recall several positive ones. There are the nuns that sat behind us at our former parish who would make faces and play peek-a-boo with the kids to keep them occupied. There was the couple who hadn't yet been able to see their grandchild born in Australia so cuddled our baby, who was about the same age, during the whole Mass. There are the teenage girls who just love to hold babies. And there are the priests and other parishioners who make a concerted effort to comment "how wonderful your children are" and they are "so happy to see young families at church." And perhaps the sweetest consolation is the fact that more young families with babies have gathered in the front few pews in the past few weeks. Look out cranky people, we're taking over the joint.

We are all members of this wonderful community, this family we call Church. We all bring our idiosyncrasies and isms, our personalities and experiences, and that’s what makes the Church so wonderfully alive and vibrant. I love the readings from the Acts of the Apostles during the Easter season that drive home the importance of community, togetherness and unity among followers of Christ (cf Acts 4:32).

Our God is a kind God, and He wants us to exhibit the same kindness. He is a loving God, and He wants us to embrace and share that love. He is a big God who can't be bound by the artificial limits we place on His love and mercy because of our own preconceived notions of where and how to practice virtue—and that even includes parking lots and church pews.

Join the converstation. I'd love to hear your stories.


* The Grinch Who Stole Christmas by Dr. Seuss

Winning against the odds

Canadian Football League multiple-record holder, four-time Grey Cup champion and Canadian football  Hall of Famer Mike "Pinball" Clemens brought all the energy you would expect form a guy nicknamed Pinball to inspire the crowd at the annual Saskatoon Prayer Breakfast this morning.

Growing up the what he called "every stereotype you can imagine of the projects or the 'hood," Clemons had to deal with adversity right from the start. "Adversity is guaranteed. It's how you deal with it that makes the difference," he said.

Since he was eight, Clemons was told he was too small to play football. Instead of running away from adversity, he ran toward it and embraced the gifts and talents God had given him to overcome adversity.

"They said you're not big enough. Ran to it. They said you're not smart enough. Ran to it. They said you're from the wrong neighbourhood. Ran to it."

Acknowledging the tragedies in Boston and West, Texas this past week, Clemons highlighted how everyday people, particularly police officers and fire firefighters, ran to adversity to overcome the odds and save lives.

Involving and exciting the crowd during the whole address, Clemons explained he needed to find his "suweeeeet-spoooot" to win against the odds.

"Football means a lot to me. Family more. God the most."

Clemons explained, "I came to the humble conclusion that the substance of what I did, all I did was run with a piece of leather for a few miles. And it took me 12 years to do it! If you want to know who I am, I'm the husband of Diane, my wife. I live to serve her. That's my sweet-spot. I couldn't have done any of that stuff by myself. As much as I love my wife, it is Christ in me that taught me how to love. Christ in me told me it doesn't matter how big I am. I'm just bringing all I have to the party."

By bringing all he has to the party, Clemons has learned to win against the the odds that seemed to be stacked against him. More importantly, he has learned a relationship with Jesus not only makes that possible, it makes it a fun and interesting ride.

Learn more about Mike "Pinball" Clemons and his career

Support the Mike Pinball Clemons Foundation (MPCF) dedicated to helping disadvantaged youth.

Overwhelmed

A racing mind, accelerated heartbeat, shortness of breath, feeling paralyzed to do much of anything...

The psychological and physiological symptoms are very real and highly variable when we get overwhelmed. The pressures of balancing work and family life, personal struggles, health issues, challenges or trials our friends or family members are encountering, the collective struggles of our community, nation or the world can easily overwhelm us and create anxiety.

The past couple weeks have been a little stressful. I have seen a particularly heavy workload at work that has added to the already heightened anxiety of looming cutbacks at the university for which I work. Home and auto repair bills seem to coming fast and furious—like the unexpected oven repair. It's tax season. Everyone has extreme cabin fever (or maybe it's seasonal anxiety disorder) because my spring flowers are still under a six-foot pile of snow in my front yard. And the horrors in the news, particularly the Gosnell trial, break my heart and prompt a big fat "WHY?"

Each of us deal with the anxiety in different ways, some more healthy than others. I prefer to bottle it up  until it explodes all over someone close to me. Well, I don't prefer to do that, but that seems to be the unfortunate default more often than not. I prefer to hash things out with the Big Guy through prayer. A quick flash prayer of "Jesus, Mary, Joseph help me" is very therapeutic.

Ideally, prayer therapy leads to a different kind of being overwhelmed—being overwhelmed by the unfathomable love and mercy of God.

Easter is the season that helps us re-focus on that overwhelming love. I couldn't help being overwhelmed by Jesus's ultimate expression of love when venerating the cross on Good Friday. The joy was overwhelming us we proclaimed "Alleluia" Easter Sunday. God's infinite mercy overwhelmed me celebrating Divine Mercy Sunday.

Just like biblical encounters with the risen Christ overwhelmed those who experienced Him, we need to allow our encounters with Jesus—both the grand and the simple—to overwhelm us.

Whenever I pause long enough to accept the love and mercy offered, there is a physiological change in me. Instead of those anxious symptoms, God's overwhelming love has the opposite effect—it calms the mind, it soothes the heart, it offers peace. And ultimately, that love drives us to act and share it with others so they too may experience the wonderful gift offered to all.

Next time life, or the news, or anything else overwhelms us to the point we feel like the weight of the world is on our shoulders, let's shift our thinking to let the Good News overwhelm us like a tidal wave and be encompassed by the saving love of God.

Does God forgive that too?

It was one of those conversations that I can't remember the context, how it started, or how it ended, but one line said by the other remains with me: the God I believe in doesn't let sex offenders and pedophiles into Heaven.

As a parent—or a human being for that matter—I want to agree with him; anyone who would prey on the most vulnerable and do them harm deserves punishment. We demand justice. God demands justice. And justice doesn't include eternal bliss.

If justice is the only standard, who would measure up? On the continuum of sin, at what point does an action deny a person admission past the pearly gates?

Since God's justice is perfect, the answers are no one and no where respectively. The blemish, no matter how small, is unacceptable for one to be in God's presence.

There has to be another way or everything we believe about God's promises, His covenants, His death and resurrection would be meaningless.

Mercy. That one word makes an eternal difference.

Remember those shows—cartoons or the old cliff-hangers—where the hero is trapped and has two doors from which to chose his escape. Behind one door is a tank of snapping alligators, a pit of hungry lions, or a bottomless pit. The other door leads to immediate escape and safety.

Now think of those doors as justice and mercy. Except the doors aren't a mystery; they are clearly labelled. Seems like a pretty obvious choice. Jesus offers us the choice of mercy. His sacrifice allows us to enter Heaven through another door.

God's perfect justice will be served by both the sacrifice of Christ and by our contrition, in this life or in purgatory. Without Jesus the chasm between the door and Heaven is insurmountable. With Him, eternal bliss is ours.

On this Divine Mercy Sunday, let us be mindful that mercy is a free gift for all who choose to accept it. I don't claim to know the mind of God, but I'm going to step out on a limb and venture a guess that includes people who do heinous things but repent and chose the door of Christ's mercy. And if that's a tough pill to swallow, then maybe it's time to rethink your definition of mercy. How attractive is your sin before God?

Jesus I trust in you!
St. Faustina Kowalska, pray for us.
"Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy." (Matthew 5:7)