Steven Charleston “Here is a word to youth, to the young woman or man, who seeks to live the sacred life, to walk the way of faith. I call on all the rest of us to turn and show you our respect. Your voice to hear, your truth to heed, your struggle to embrace.”

I said goodbye to another youth who is moving out of state to live with relatives in a calmer environment.  “I’m so glad you are leaving and I am going to miss you terribly,” are the contradictory messages I give him over and over. Sometimes I feel that my ministry of greatest consequences is to get them out of this racist dead-end environment and encourage them to flourish someplace that does not automatically sneer at them for being Native.

In talks with the probation officers here, one looked startled and then his face lit up, “I’m so glad to hear you say that.  I encourage them to leave as soon as they are eighteen so they might have a chance for a job and a less violent environment.”  Almost everyone in authority from the schools to the judicial system say the same.

Why this collective encouragement?

Border towns to Reservations are often toxic.  Instead of a community rooted in tradition and being a majority in the culture, border towns like Holbrook and Winslow ridicule and trash those who are rural Natives. It is not just the cultural stereotypes and racial insults. It is the assumption that the youth will never be any more than transient workers and intoxicated homeless people that are often seen outside the Reservation.  Not that the Reservation is a paradise.  In the midst of appalling poverty and horrific frustration, there is still a deep rootedness in seeing the sacred, of respecting people, of praying daily to Grandfather God.

So why do I want them to leave?

Because very few listen to them.  Few honor them for the sacred choices they make.  Few can look behind their race to see their dignity and promise.

When we travel to other cities and states, the youth invariably comment on how the people were really interested in what they had to say.  Once, at the coffee hour, a youth ran over to me to say, “He just asked me what I thought about the job situation in Arizona.  I’ve never been asked my opinion by an adult before.”

Once we were asked to say what was important about our tradition.  Each of the youth stood up in a room full of strangers and proclaimed in nervous voices such things as “everything is sacred,” pass on to the next generation your language and ceremonies,” “respect your elders,” and “do not forget to greet the dawn with thanks every morning.”

I was so proud.  Even better was hearing someone besides me tell them how much their remarks are appreciated. It means so much more coming from a third party.

I agree with our elder Bishop Charleston speaking to our youth who seek to live the sacred life. “I call on all the rest of us to turn and show you our respect… You are the messengers of transformation, the ones who carry the weight of change. You are the pride of all those who have gone before…”

In faith,

Kaze

Paul Tillich “Faith is an act of a finite being who is grasped by, and turned to, the infinite.”

Who knows how the imagination of a youth catches fire?  For Native youth, it involves ceremony where everyone’s attention is captured by the sacred. It does not usually happen by someone’s words, or dull singing or rote recitations.

Our youth attended an infant baptism with holy water from an unusually shaped rock.  A blessing was given by a Native elder with feather and sage, candles were carefully carried, the congregation was sprinkled with the same water, everyone moves into place with precise intentionality and exquisite attention is given to the child being baptized as if this were the center of all things sacred.  Which it is. 

“I think I was holding my breath the whole time,” says one of the young adults.  Later they all dipped their hands into the holy water.

“Tell me what baptism is about again?” asks one of the youth.

“It’s the gateway to turning away from darkness and choosing to live in the light,” I reply.

“So, how can a baby make choices?  He doesn’t do anything,” demands one of the youth.

“His parents and godparents agree to bring him up in the light and to keep offering him the chances to live before the sacred,” I say, not at all easy about this response.

Two months later we attend a “Blessing of the Water” ceremony in which water is blessed and given to us to take back and renew our rivers and land.  Again, it is a holy ceremony where precise attention is given to the sacred act of a priestly hand slicing the water four times in the water to bless it.  Again, all eyes are on that hand in the water.

Later, they all carry vials of water in their pocket or jackets to use whenever we saw something that need renewal.  I received a distraught call from one of the young adults yesterday. “I left my sacred water in your van.  Can you get it to me?”

I agree and we talk about the significance of being the carrier of holy water.

Again, I am surprised on how profound a ceremony involving water can be.  We talk about it.

“I don’t know,” says a youth. “It is sacred to me when something is blessed or even when I am blessed. And we all pray for rain and for water to renew the earth in our tradition.  It’s just something about our carrying the water and being able to do the blessing.  It just seems really important.”

I’m thinking now of lent and ashes and wondering if it is going to be as powerful to immerse this group of kids in another type of ceremony that involves another sacred symbol.  This requires some thinking.  Maybe we will have to burn our crosses that we have since last Easter and to do something with the ashes beyond Ash Wednesday.  I’m not sure.  Christmas and candles, Baptism and water, Eucharist and bread and wine, Lent and ashes, Easter and Crosses—all point to the sacred in our practical daily lives.

“When are we going to do something like that again?” asks one of the youth.

I am jolted back to the need for more sacred practices that remind us that we are grasped by and turned to the sacred. Or, how to transform the ceremonies we have that no longer freight meaning in this century.

It is going to take a lot of thought.

In faith,

Kaze

Henri Nouwen “Imagine your having no need at all to judge anybody. Imagine your having no desire to decide whether someone is a good or bad person…Wouldn’t that be true freedom?

It was a rambling conversation in the van.  A youth mentioned that out of all of his family only one boy had been baptized. Casually I ask, “How is it that he was baptized and you weren’t”

He replies, “When we were young we lived in another town temporarily and put in a mission school. My brother was good then so the missionary asked if he wanted to be baptized.  He was the only one in my family asked.”

Before I could think about it, I blurted out, “You don’t have to be good to be baptized.”

“What do you have to be?” he asks.

Now we talk about baptism all the time. Over the years, most of our youth are being prepared or preparing the next youth for this sacrament.  When something like this comes out of the blue, I realize that there are many assumptions that are buried deep.  “God loves you only if you are worthy,” is one of those hidden assumptions that direct your trying to earn approval.

“You have to be a child of God which you already are by being born,” I say.

“But what do you have to do?” he asks.

I gather my thoughts and speak “All of us have had glimpses of the sacred in our lives.  We’ve talked about something awesome appearing unexpectedly and stopping our world.  We have had times when helping others change us and we see all others as our relatives. We have prayed and found something amazing filling our empty spaces. When that happens, a new path opens up for us and we have a choice. We can live in the light or choose to stumble around in the darkness.  Baptism is our decision to walk in the light with God’s help.  If we wait until we think we are good enough, we would never make it.  In God’s eyes, we are good enough now to begin the journey.”

“What if we fail?” he asks plaintively.

A voice in the back of the van speaks, “Fool, that’s what forgiveness is for.”

We burst into laughter.

He continues, “We mess us, we ask God’s forgiveness, we start over again.  I’ve done it a lot.”

Several other voices join in talking about messing up, forgiveness and changing.  

One youth contributes, “I remember when my probation officer was talking to me.  He asks me when I was going to ‘get it’ that I really could change. All of a sudden, I realized that I could. He saw me on the street last month and compliments me that I had not been arrested for a long time. I told him all the stuff that we had been doing in youth group and he claps me on the back.  I sure didn’t change because I was good. I think that God takes me as I am.”

As I reflect on this later, I realize that I too hide in the judgment that I should be good before I can be on the right path. So I reaffirm my faith. I am God’s child.  With God’s help, I can start over again now, and not wait until I am good enough (whatever that means). What unbelievable good news.

In faith,

Kaze

Richard Rohr “Prayer is not about changing God, but being willing to let God change us.”

“But I prayed,” asks one youth who is confused about the death of his beloved grandfather. “I asked God to keep him alive. He didn’t do it.”

Where do I start?  Grief is hard enough without having to challenge the good old missionary platitudes or religion by popular media that god sits on a throne somewhere above us dispensing French fries or whatever else on demand.  A child’s heart is breaking and what he hears is that god’s will is that his grandfather dies, making this god the meanest person around.

First we work with the grief.  “I can’t imagine how bad you are feeling now that he died.  When my grandmother died, it felt like my heart was ripped out, leaving an empty hole that cannot be filled. What is going on with you inside?”

He pours out images.  “Like no one is alive who cares what I do. No one will ever ask me about how I am doing or teach me to do things around the house.  Like I am alone and no one gets it. Like a big rock has smashed into our house and everyone is left with everything in pieces and no one knows what to do next.”

“What are some of the good things you can remember about your grandfather?” I ask. “You don’t have to speak aloud.”

He thinks for awhile. “He had this big grin on when he saw me, like he was really glad I came.  He showed me how to chop wood and stack it up neatly.  We worked together on a door in the house that was hanging wrong.  There are so many things.”  He is silent, reviewing thoughts inwardly.

Finally he asks, “Why wouldn’t God keep him alive.  Was it me?  Did I pray wrong?”

I immediately respond, “You didn’t pray wrong. However you connect to God is right.  Sometimes we are thankful and sometimes we call out for help in desperation. God is not an answering service, giving us whatever we demand.  Our prayers, regardless of what we say or ask for, open us to something larger than ourselves.  It hooks us up to God.  When we pray, we are changed; our hearts open, our eyes see more, our brain accepts what is.  I don’t know why people are born or why they die.  I don’t know why we hurt or why some changes are so difficult.  I only know that when I pray, I rest in the only reality I can trust.  I am no longer isolated but a part of something really big that fills me with hope and joy and peace.  I also pray that people I love may not die or that someone makes the right choice.  I am not trying to force God to twist reality to suit me.  I am hungry to be touched by something bigger, that can make sense of bad and good things that can put me back on track in the middle of my pain.”

He nods and we pray for the soul of his grandfather, for his pain and confusion and for all those who are hurt.  We ask God to be with us and keep us safe while we go through this.

I think that is what most prayers are. “God, let me get through this. Let me face this and not run away. Let me be open to whatever is given.  I am so thankful that I am not alone and that I can see the goodness in things.  Let me be connected to whatever gives life and does not let me dwell in the darkness.”

Or maybe that is just my prayer in this 7^th decade of my life. Prayer is so many things to so many people.  It is not limited when it is addressed to the One who is more than a giant dispensary of our immediate demands.

Thanks be to God.

In Faith,

Kaze

Henri Nouwen “People who have come to know the joy of God do not deny the darkness, but they choose not to live in it. They claim that the light that shines in the darkness can be trusted more than the darkness itself and that a little bit of light can dispel a lot of darkness. They point each other to flashes of light here and there and remind each other that they reveal the hidden but real presence of God.”

“You know, I really thought our friendship was real.  I thought we would be best friends, brothers, forever.  And he betrayed me again.  He goes after my girl when we had a fight and trashes me to everyone.  He was my brother.  Will I ever learn?” a young man spits it out.

He is venting to me at a booth in a fast food place.  His life timeline is filled with betrayals and broken promises.  I can’t fix it or make it better.

“I hope not,” I reply.

“What?” he says in disbelief.

“I hope you never learn to give up on trust no matter how many times you are betrayed.  We have all been betrayed by those of whom we let into our lives and trusted to watch our backs.  And we also have those friends who have never broken their trust, or if they have, they have made it up to us and we started our friendship over again.  When it gets down to the basics, it is up to each of us to choose the light over darkness, regardless of what someone else chooses.”

“I don’t feel that I can every trust anyone again, a girlfriend or a brother,” he cries.

“Of course not,” I say. “It is heartbreaking to be betrayed.  It’s a deep wound and it will take time for healing.  Not all trust is absolute.  You may trust this one to help you when you need it but never trust him with your money.  You may trust this one with your money but know it is useless to call her in the middle of the night for help.  Most of us only find one or two people with whom we can trust completely for all things.  And we have to work hard at keeping that relationship open and trust growing.  It is not a one time commitment. You have to work at it.”

“It’s not worth it,” he says with a sigh.

I also sigh at a teenager's absolutes. “It’s not an either/or kind of thing.  Our lives are built on degrees of trust, like you trust that when you pay for this soda, the person behind the counter will give it to you and not throw it in your face.”

He smiles at this.

I continue, “Who are the people you trust now, even in a limited way?”

He begins listing names.  “Okay,” he says. “I do trust a lot of people but I will never trust a girlfriend or a brother again ever.”

“At this point, that is a good decision,” I say. “You need time to work this through and heal. But you are a caring person and you make good choices about your life. When you are ready, you will trust wholeheartedly again.  You know you have a choice about living in the light with all the happiness that brings.  Darkness eats you alive and spits you out.  Trust me on this.”

We both laugh at my choice of words on trusting me.

We leave.  It’s a hard lesson for each of us. I pray that he continues to see those flashes of light that dispel the darkness.

In faith,

Kaze

Vir Chicano "If you can let joy be your habitual way of responding to the world, you'll restore balance.”

We were at a park when a dead branch fell in front of us.  We all jumped. One of the youth started laughing and we all laughed so hard that we found ourselves either sitting on the ground or leaping over the branch. This is not unusual when you have a scare.  It was what followed.

“I feel so alive these days,” a young man says who has been cheerful for months.

“What happened?” I ask.

“It was weird,” he responds. “You remember when I was kicked out of my house and I slept in an old car that night.  I was really cold and I was cursing everyone and everything.  Every promise that had ever been broken, every bruise, every hurt went through my mind and I was getting angry.  Suddenly, it didn’t matter anymore. It didn’t bother me anymore.  I don’t know how it happened.  I started to walk to a friend’s house and then I remembered to thank God.  It was really strange.  I don’t care about a bunch of beliefs that I find stupid.  I only know that I am connected to something that holds me up when I am down.  Since then, I look at things differently.  The bad things roll over. I’m happy.”

Total silence greeted this speech.  We start walking through the park.  No one has anything to add.  We keep walking.

“This happens,” I say.

“Why does it happen?” asks one of the youth.

“I don’t know,” I say.  Sometimes when pain is all there is, acceptance or something breaks in and we know what really matters. It’s a God thing.  I can’t explain it. I just know that joy and wonder become the eyeglasses through which we look at things.”

We get back in the van and someone says “Thank God.”  We all echo this and drive away.

It happens.

In faith,

Kaze

Richard Rohr “Whole people see and create wholeness wherever they go; split people see and create splits in everything and everybody.”

“Watch out!” shouts one of the teens as a younger boy is about to fall off the bridge.  Heads snap around at the shout. Several of the older youth run over to haul the boy off the bridge and on to safety.

“I didn’t mean anything,” the boy protests. “I just thought it was cool to climb up there.”

After several angry comments on his stupidity, I notice the boy smiling to himself.

I manage to speak to some of the older youth and explain that sometimes he wants to call attention to himself by doing dangerous things and that he craves the attention he gets. One of the young adults says, “We’ve all been there.  Let’s give him something to do and we can compliment him.”

So, the youngster is given responsibility for giving out the cameras and making sure everyone has a turn.  He glows at the way the older boys are paying attention to him.

Later at our leadership meeting, we review the different members of the team and their progress. As usual, each student is assigned a quality we want to encourage.  Kindness, generosity, respect, cooperation, curiosity, and trust are the dominant traits we want. We finish that and the conversation turns to our own growth.

“I’ve changed so much,” says one of the young adults.  I never used to notice that people change.  I always assumed that if they were bad, they would stay that way.  What do you call that?”

“Forgiveness,” calls out one youth.

“Seeing the Holy in everyone,” says another.

“What’s that you are always saying to us, ‘Only say the word and I will be healed,’” says yet another teen.

“All of these point to the same thing,” I ruminate. “When we started our journey together, we were all asking for attention and approval of what we were doing. Everyone was out for him or her self.  Something happened along the way and one by one we started acting as a whole.  I’m not saying that right.  Somehow, we were making decisions standing in our wholeness.”

“You’re right,” says a teen. “Somehow I remember when I stopped trying to make sure that I was okay and began to notice what was happening to others.  It was when we were playing in the ocean and you told us to make sure that the two young kids were safe by keeping an eye out for them.  Something clicked inside.  I don’t know if it is because you trusted me or if I finally just grew up.  But I didn’t feel like everything had to be about me.”

“When I feel whole and healed of what has been bugging me, then I can see others as a part of me and not just a nuisance,” says one of the youth.  “Although some of them can be really irritating, especially my younger brother.  It’s best when we start the day with a prayer for others.”

Others nodded at this and I have something else to mull over.  Feeling whole is not a onetime thing.  We have to rehearse who we are over and over.  Wholeness, healing, forgiving and trusting are all one thing.

In faith,

Kaze

Richard Rohr “We tend to manage life more than just live it. We are all overstimulated and drowning in options. We are trained to be managers, to organize life, to make things happen. That is what built our First World culture. It is not all bad, but if you transfer it to the spiritual life, it is pure heresy. It is wrong. It doesn’t work. It is not gospel.”

“So, what do we do next?” a youth inquires after a major organized event in which we were deeply moved.  We had already finished our reflection in which we sorted out and somewhat identified the ways our experiences are impacting us.

“Nothing,” I reply. “We are hanging out until we drive home.”

So the youth take a two hour walk, amidst the coyotes and cactus.  They return refreshed and as invigorated as if we had done something planned and organized.  It always surprises me.  But I have learned to have plenty of “doing nothing” time in between events so we can let go of our expectations and just meander aimlessly, letting whatever happens happen.

I spend a lot of time organizing events.  Getting the van ready, making arrangements, preparing the youth, collecting everything and everyone needed for the event or trip or ceremony.  This is necessary so details don’t get in the way of our full participation in the event.

Then we reflect. As a mentor once instructed me, “If you don’t reflect on it, the event never happened.  It will be shunted aside as one more activity in a busy life.”  So we reflect, even if it is as simple as “what was up, what was down?”  This enables the event to become a lens through which future decisions are made.

Then we do nothing.  This is the hard part.  We let go and just bask in the unscheduled moments.  We enjoy being with each other and being alone.  Our spirituality demands it. It takes confidence in ourselves and our God to just wander, seeing what we see and hearing what we hear.

It wasn’t this way in the beginning of the youth group. Every second was organized or monitored to make sure that youth were not bored or got into trouble.  You know what happens.  If teens are organized during the day then they stay up all night to chat or just hang.

Recently, we attended a ceremony of the Blessing of the Water in Santa Fe, New Mexico.  It was an organized event to sanctify water that we could carry back to our land and rivers to purify them. 

“What is going to happen?” asks one of the young adults quietly. 

“The priest is going to sanctify the water so we can bless our land and rivers with it,” I reply.

No one asks about the mechanics of how this is done or why. We watch the priest put his hand in the water of the baptismal font and slowly make the sign of the cross in the water while saying the ceremonial words.  Then he flicks the water in the sacred four directions.  No one breathes or takes their eyes off of that hand slicing the water four times.

Then we pray for the renewal of the earth, the sky, the moon, the sun, the land, all living things and so on until everything that can be named is.

We reverently and with laughter fill up our vials with holy water and then have a community feast.  Everyone carries the water vials in their pockets ready to disperse whenever we see something that needs to be restored.  We flick water at each other, at the van, on the ground, on the tree, everywhere.  And we take it back to our land, very conscious that we are the carriers of something holy.

“What happened tonight?” I ask.

“Something holy,” a teen whispers. 

Then everyone takes a walk and we drive back home to Arizona stopping wherever the mood takes us.

An event, a reflection, a letting go—this is a holy time.

In faith,

Kaze

Mother Teresa “The good you do today, will often be forgotten. Do good anyway.
Give the best you have, and it will never be enough. Give your best anyway.
In the final analysis, it is between you and God. It was never between you and them anyway.”

“You didn’t put my idea of design on our Tees,” protest one teen indignantly. “Why do you always choose his ideas?”

Remembering my own years as a teen, painfully comparing myself to all the “cool” girls, I sigh inwardly. 

What is there in ourselves that wants exclusive affirmation for our efforts, even to the aching struggle that ends us condemning ourselves for not being “good enough” or “not as good as?”

There is a balance.  In our psychological development as children, our effort to do something needs to be outwardly acknowledged and valued.  I remember reading a business analysis that  indicated that the one thing people wanted most in a job was not more money or free time but to have their ideas and their work acknowledged.  That is not the same as having all your ideas accepted or your work rewarded--just acknowledged that you have been heard and noticed.

Validation is important.

A step in your spiritual journey is being so convinced that you are valued and cherished for who you are that you no longer have to compare yourself to what someone else is doing.  That is a big step into adulthood and into contentment.  I think we have to have both the psychological and the spiritual affirmation many times and at many levels in our life journey.

Another youth speaks up, “I’m glad we have a new design each year.  Maybe we can include her ideas in the next shirt.”

With that, validation occurred within the whole group. Ideas began to sprout like cactus flowers after a rain. “Let’s have some feathers on it next time,” shouts one young man.  At that, everyone started laughing and naming bizarre feathers.

“I can get lots of crow feathers,” says one.” “How about from a parrot,” calls another. “We could have penguin feathers,” suggests one giggling.  “No, no, I meant Eagle feathers,” the first youth shouts laughing.

“Let’s make a lot of suggestions and then give it to one of our artists to make us our own logo,” a high school youth recommends.

We all agree to that. One of the young adults quietly says, “Whatever we have, let’s make sure that our being blessed is a part of it.  Maybe we can have water or something growing as our main symbol.”

With that, the conversation turned to our connection with the sacred and all the symbols we can use to express that.

The conversation changed us in a strange way.  No one person’s ideas were better than another.  We threw it all in a stew pot with each idea building off the last one.  It was one of those times when we were immersed in our own identity as God’s people, noticed and cherished for who we are.

As Mother Teresa says, “It is between you and God. It was never between you and them anyway.”

In faith,

Kaze

Richard Rohr “Is the seed already within you—of all that God wants you to be?”

“It’s just gas,” someone says with a laugh.  We are all laughing at a baby who is being admired for smiling. No one cares if it is gas.  We love seeing another level in his development even though we know it is not through personal discipline and achievement but the physical growth of a child surrounded by love.

Maybe that’s the point.

Complimenting youth on their achievements is a good thing and something they may not hear enough.  But there is another, more subtle support we can give to those who are not so sure that they are loved for who they are.  Usually, it does not involve words.

Sometimes my most important ministry is just sitting with them at a fast food place where they are relaxing or talking with each other, enjoying being alive and with friends.  Or walking with them as we notice what is around us; doing nothing, saying no words of wisdom, just enjoying being in their company.

Achievement is good.  But so is being comfortable in your own skin, confident in being loved for who you are in your being, not your doing.

“Can we take a walk, Kaze?” asks one of the youth when we are in a new town that is filled with different smells and sights.

“Go for it,” I reply. “I’ll wait here.”

They walk around town, laughing and secure in the strength of friendship.  I snap pictures of them coming and going, marveling in how much more they are at ease when there is no drama, no time pressure, and absolutely nothing to do.

I remember another time when I was so stressed out over an unrelated situation that my mood spilled over into chopped up words and closed off communications.

“Listen, I’m sorry about…” a youth apologizes for something that I am not even aware.  Snapping back into present consciousness, I realize that they are all waiting for me to punish them for something.  It is the survival mode of at risk youth that make the assumption that if things are not comfortable, they are at fault and better start placating before violence accelerates.

“No, it’s me,” I confess.  “I’m having a bad day.”  The tension eases and although they still look at me a bit sideways, they return to having fun.

When you are proclaiming the good news that each and every one of these youth is cherished separate from anything they know or do, a stress free atmosphere is of paramount importance.

So I give it up to God and plunge back into the crazy frivolous life of just hanging around.

Later, as we reflect on what has been up or down in the day, I listen with uncritical ears on how much we all need to be able to step back on winning approval from ourselves or others and just enjoy.

One youth relates, “My up for the day was when we were splashing the water on each other from the river and everyone got wet.”  We all laugh at that memory

You don’t have to do anything to be loved.  That’s your birthright.  To know it often means that someone around you delights that you are alive and that you are surrounded by love.

May we all give and receive that blessing today.

In faith,

Kaze