Soulful Muse

Who needs Julia Childs?  Who needs Graham Kerr, “The Galloping Gourmet?”  Do you remember Graham Kerr?  I remember that he drank double the wine that he used in his cooking.

We have a superb chef who easily knows his way around the kitchen, Jesus Christ.  He can boil any liability out of our lives.  The yeast that he offers is himself, the leaven that rises to every need and concern in our lives.  This chef becomes the meal, he gave himself.  He offers up for us the ultimate recipe, the ultimate formula for living life.  “I give you life and it will be given back to you” – a full course meal of peace, fortitude and joy.

The trickiest meal to prepare may very well be prime rib.  It has way of looking like a rump roast but actually is prime rib. Chef Christ uses the prime rib to remind us that things aren’t always what they appear to be.  People we perceive and label as selfish may be insecure and unsure of themselves.  Give your boiling attitudes time to simmer and let your feelings cool down after  heated discussions.

Cooking demands patience, self restraint and resilience.  Give yourself enough preparation time before you mix and mash up your opinions into an oven or bake them until they’re overcooked.  Knead out those bumps that so often enter our judging minds that quickly evaluate another person.  Smooth them out so that you may see more deeply and clearer the motivations of another.  Let the ingredients of someone’s life allow you to see them more completely.  You may very well find that who you thought was just a rump roast turned out to be prime rib and that includes yourself.

These two guys had eight, handy tools surrounding them for easy access.  I know because I’m watching them and count the tools wrapped around their waists as though preparing for a gun fight with the town’s villain.  Sometimes this tool is used but now this smaller tool is needed for that sharp corner.  In tandem, one outside and the other inside they perform their task and warn the other that the smudge is on his side.
I watch them while waiting for a doctor’s appointment (never read the magazines; who touches them except sick people!) as they diligently complete one before moving to the second.  Their faces are task orientated and focused, one completed job only leads to the next one.
I walk into a hospital room knowing only an unknown name and possibly a diagnosis that I may or may not know.  Another minister enters a prison cell wondering how he/she will be received.  I’m stopped after Mass and a stranger says, “May I have a word with you right now?”  You bring home your first child and wonder what you will do with this living, needy thing that needs housing for at least 18 years.  (Even longer, these days!)  You promised yourself that things would be different than the way you were raised but slowly you hear your parents talking through your mouth.  (Ah, the promises we make to ourselves…)  You find yourself “tool-less” as you raise your own child while nursing the parent who once nursed you.  What do you say and how firmly do you need to say it?  You say, “Dad, you simply cannot drive anymore.  You need to admit it,” the same morning you gave the car keys to your son for the first time.
We don’t have John the Baptist’s leather belt to support us or the eight tools that the window washers so easily used.

I only have that “Hi” followed by anything and everything that follows; rarely with a solution especially for that tough corner of life no one’s been able to reach.  I’m searching for tools in my head in milliseconds only to find that my eyes are listening and my ears are seeing the conflict or turmoil or pain.  In how many situations are we all looking for the right tool for the right job at the right moment.  (And, is there even such a tool?!)   We all can only hope that the window to the souls of those we love may be ready to be seen through and somehow lovingly assure them that all will be spotlessly clean and somehow “okay.”

My priest-friend and I travel to Key West for a long weekend and meet five 20 years old from Pompano Beach who are staying at the same resort.  (Being from Milwaukee, I don’t understand why Pompano would go to Key when the weather is good in both places, but be that as it may…)

Later, I’m in the hot tub with my new-five-long-weekend-friends and my priest-friend comes to tell me that he’s off to church (it’s Saturday).  I tell him to have fun.  The six of us are enjoying ourselves and the conversation soon moves to occupations.  I say they’d never guess mine and they don’t when I finally say “Catholic priest.”  “Oh, you’re not a priest,” each protests.  I say, “How can I prove it, say something in Latin?”  The young upstarts just look at me waiting and it occurred to me to question proudly, “I’m the only one in this hot tub who knows what the Immaculate Conception is!”

As my priestly history proved, no one knew.  When I tell them what it is the conversation pauses for a moment and then changes as though I’ve said nothing important and I wonder about its importance.

My priest-friend arrives from Mass and we’re still simmering in hot water and good conversation about nothing and everything.  He tells me the priest’s sermon was very confusing and the music was awful.  I smile to myself which probably was visible as well.  I had a great time with folks 40 years younger than me.

My priest-friend and I leave for supper and one of the 20 years old grabs me and says a line I will never forget, “If you enter a bar tonight with a rabbi and minister, you call me.”  I howl but did not meet those two that night but I did attend  “church” that Saturday with five interesting people in a meaningful and enjoyable way.

I found my new favorite store.  I’m still learning because I keep looking for the price tags.  “This must be $7.99,” I think to myself but then remind my stupid self the name of the store I’m in.  I thought the store was more for people in need but then I thought, “I’d like to spend one dollar on something I’d like!”

It’s funny because I never hear the announcement on the intercom, “Price check, aisle 3!”  Why is that?  I look for “on sale” or “clearance” signs and, again, I’m prompted to remove myself from the store and look at the sign in front.  I want to tell my friends what a bargain I got but the response would not be favorable.

Not being financial wise, I could work at a store like that.  Checking out someone would be easy and I’d have time to visit with the customer as I ring up their 15-same-priced-items with no quibbles or questions.  I’m tempted to ask the check out person if this item is one dollar but I assume I’d get the look that is comparable to the third finger.

Faith is worth one dollar.  It asks the same of us all.  No discounts, benefits or coupons with the giving of our lives for something greater than ourselves that leads to our behavior with others.  How many of us try the “layaway” plan in hopes of postponing whatever life is for us?  We pretend to ourselves that there are shortcuts, side roads or jumping on someone’s back when the worth of us all is one dollar.  When the time finally comes around and we humbly walk into a church or temple, we see one dollar people surrounding us, even if they look and act like they’re worth more.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer died in a German concentration camp and wrote a simple book, “The Cost of Discipleship.”  Since he wrote it years ago, I can save you the time of reading it.  It’s called “The Dollar Tree.”

The silence is welcoming after work but that’s a chosen silence.  I can easily return to melodic tones whenever I choose.  What would life be like without the music that flows into us and then out again?

What kind of wedding doesn’t have a couple’s song.  I have a good friend who searched and searched before his wedding until they together agreed on a song.  Not very romantic but obligatory.  How would your positive mood last if there wasn’t a strong to strengthen and lengthen it?  What boring car trip is tolerated with a variety of tunes, enough to make Ohio or Montana shorter states?  How more rewarding during a downer feeling than with a bluesy tune to keep you down there?  How could we hum in the morning a song we heard before going to bed?

The Bible says “singing is twice praying.”  Some of those prayers may be The Cyrkle’s “Red Rubber Ball,” “for you I’m just an ornament, something for your pride…” when we feel God is away from us or when we feel God closer we sing “ain’t no mountain high enough, ain’t no river wide enough…”  One generation claims the new generation’s music is “noisy” and rejection repeats itself again and again.  The Bible also says, don’t make noise, “make a joyful noise” in all our activities.

My hearing is fading but not the music that bolsters me up, keeps me level or contently depressed.  If the Doobie Brothers doobies “Listen to the Music” the volume increases.  Even more so with The Who, “Won’t Get Fooled Again” with a lingering organ to begin, only to then open up and let the music out.

Who knows, some 80 year old may turn up “Sentimental Journey” because it was their wedding song and “he’s been gone for several years but he still seems to be living within me.”