The Magnificent Seven

Every direction you turn, every paper you pick up, every news channel, all talk about the negative happening in a country and in the world. It really makes you wonder is there any good, any beauty, anything to enjoy in this world. I rarely watch the news, rarely read the papers cause it seems as if it’s the same thing, every single day. There is good out there, there are people out there doing good, embracing and sharing the human spirit, it just never makes the headlines. So I decided that I wanted to write about the good and beautiful norms and traditions of the people here, the things that make this island so unique.

We have these seven old Colonial Buildings called The Magnificent Seven that line the Savannah. I love old buildings and while these edifices are indeed impressive, I want to highlight seven things, the genuine Magnificent Seven that make a Trinidadian a Trinidadian. These are not things that have been financed by foreign powers but rather have been developed as original Trinidadian-grown traits and behaviors. I not only have some of these traits but I really admire, respect and regard deeply how they overlap and intertwine into every aspect of everyday life and add to the rich tapestry of my delightful, diverse, gem of an island that I call home.

The first magnificent norm is perhaps the most obvious: the ever-ready capacity of Trinidadians to enjoy life, leisure and the passage of time. It goes without saying that we Trinis love a “lime” (Trinidadian slang for a group of friends hanging out together. It can be large or small, pre-arranged or impromptu. It often involves food, and ALWAYS requires beverages (not necessarily alcoholic, but it certainly may). It is NEVER a hurried activity. It can occur on a beach, by a river, at someone's home, or on a street corner.) It goes way beyond this ordinary pastime and yields significant evidence of its utility.

It speaks of a parent’s joy in simply sitting and watching their developing children having fun at the beach with friends, easily forgetting the multitude of work and other responsibilities they might otherwise be engaged in. It speaks of the growing child’s productive use of their daily recess and lunch time to discover themselves, relate to others and dream of what the future may hold. It speaks of the benefits of time spent in peaceful solitude, not doing anything, where one comes languorously to an understanding of their place in the world or how they can help to change it. All these ways of valuing, using and thinking about one’s time on earth are splendid reminders to enjoy it and not necessarily “make the most of it.”

Second on my list would be the extensive and generous sharing of positive emotions and genuine, spontaneous displays of non-sexual physical affection. To smile, laugh and joke with each other in all kinds of settings is commonplace and so is the public display of affection. This includes the many hugs, touches and smiles between men and women, girls and boys and parents and children but also between young women and other young women, fathers and babies, even men and men. It is not done in way that might suggest homosexuality but more naively carefree, bodily expressions of true feelings that say I’m glad to see you and be with you, I like you and wish to share this warm feeling with skin to skin contact.

The loving public care of babies is especially very touching, which actually reveals a lot about the nature of native parenting. We live in a time where many places seem to do whatever they can to physically distance themselves from these newcomers with bulky plastic infant carriers, car seats, strollers, etc. The level of affection between adults and infants bodes well for the future human capital here.

Bombshell

Wednesday’s Gospel records Jesus and his closest friends celebrating the Last Supper. In the midst of the meal Jesus drops a bombshell: “One of you will betray me.” The disciples are all stunned, they look at each other in disbelief, which one of them could Jesus be talking about? “Lord is it I?” No one points the finger, each one knows his capacity for failure. Jesus hit a nerve.

Judas quietly leaves the room, he does not arouse any suspicion. He was above suspicion otherwise the rest of the disciples would have never allowed him to leave the room in one piece. Judas was so ordinary, just as ordinary as each of us. Judas was called and chosen as are we. Judas enjoyed the trust of his friends. At the table he sat in an honoured place close to Jesus. Judas?? How could he betray Jesus?

I think of Peter, under pressure in the courtyard, swearing “I do not know the man.” I think of the disciples running away in the Garden of Gethsemane, not showing up at Calvary and stubbornly refusing to believe reports of Jesus’ resurrection. Judas’ betrayal is different in degree, not in kind to our betrayals. Judas was not the first or the last to betray Jesus, he was simply the most famous.

What redeems the Passion and its most powerful message is that the love of Jesus never wavered especially towards the people who betrayed him. When Judas led the bloodthirsty mob into the Garden, Jesus addressed him as “Friend.” His own people condemned him to death, yet while hanging outstretched on the Cross, a symbol of ultimate disgrace and shame, his last prayer was for all of us, “Father, forgive them.” Never was Jesus more human. His humanity enters into and speaks to all that is good and noble in the human heart.

What makes us human like Jesus is not our mind but our heart, not our capacity to think but our capacity to love.

When The Going Gets Tough

Jesus never tried to get people to follow him under false pretenses. He was honesty personified. “If anyone wants to be a follower of mine, let him renounce himself and take up his cross and follow me” Mark 8:34.

He never used the word easy as a ploy to win a following. He leveled with us. He knew there would be times along the way when we would grow weary, discouraged and disheartened. He entertained no romantic notions of discipleship. He knew the physical pain and mental hardships, the loss of loved ones, the failure of people we look up to and admire would take its toll.

Loneliness, rejection and abandonment would sap our spirits and the day would come when faith would no longer offer any assurance, drive or comfort. We echo the sentiments of St. Teresa of Avila, “Lord, if this is how you treat your friends, it is no wonder you have so few!”

The Christian life is a sacred journey. The travails of travel are endured on a daily basis. We never reach a point when we can accurately say that we have finished the journey, at least not on this side of heaven. We do not arrive until life on this side of earth is ended. It takes a radical decision on God’s terms to get from here to eternity.

A radical decision does not make us perfect. The climb to the top of the mountain top is long and arduous. It is a long haul, there are no short cuts. The climb begins with a decision to go for the top. Failures and setbacks are inevitable. Failure does not deter us. We pick ourselves up with the grace of God, dust ourselves off and start again. Follow me, stake your life on me and go for broke. And our response is to keep on keeping on.

Ginny Musing- Playing The Same Record

Someone asked me why do I go to Mass every weekend, it’s the same thing every week, so what’s the point? This got me thinking about the different parts of the Mass.

One of the most important things we do on Sunday is listen to the Word of God. Every Sunday we hear the same thing over and over again- we are loveable because God loves us. Like a lover we never grow tired hearing God singing our praises and declaring”You are my beloved. I take delight in you.”

The Liturgy of the Word at Mass is like a grand opera or great play. It’s the same story line, the same song, every time. In the opera someone falls in love, the lover is rejected, she shoots him and then kills herself and it’s all done in an appropriately dramatic way. And we keep coming back for more of the same. We play the same record over and over again. Why? It’s because we want to feel the depth of the emotion so that it will come alive within us.

Week after week, we listen to what God in his great love has already done for us and what he continues to do. We try to take it in. It takes weekly repetition for the message to sink in. Week after week we are offered God’s vision, we are told here’s what God’s world looks like, here’s what God looks like, here’s life at its best. The liturgy is advertising God’s vision of how the world is meant to be and how life is meant to be lived.

The culture we live in obscures the Christian vision. Day after day, hour after hour, we are bombarded with a different message of salvation- this will save you; this will give you sex appeal; this will make you happy beyond your wildest dreams and make everyone want to kiss you. We are constantly exposed to countless images that tell us what we should be, do, want, wear and think. The psychology behind most advertising is to promote poor self-image. The message is consistent: You are inadequate unless you are buying our product. Buy our goodies, sing our song and then life is yours. We are being consistently told to be other than what we are supposed to be.

But once a week, sometimes more often for some, at Mass we are offered a vision of life that speaks to what is highest and noblest in the human heart. Maybe the Church in her wisdom knows her children need to hear the message over and over again, we are hearing but not listening. We are masters in the art of ignoring the great realities of what surround us.

My thoughts, any takers ???