New Haven Register (Sunday) (New Haven, CT)
Seeing and seeking the beauty of serving a purpose
Beautiful is the moment in which we understand that we are no more than an instrument of God; we live only as long as God wants us to live; we can only do as God makes us able to do; we are only as intelligent as God would have us to be. — Saint Oscar Romero
One of the blessings of serving as a chaplain and ministering to fellow human beings in their most vulnerable moments is that it reinforces the preciousness and sacredness of each moment. Serving as a chaplain opens one’s eyes to the uncertainty of life and the prospect that everything can change in the blink of an eye.
Yes, everything can happen in one day; you are born on one day, you die on one day, you can even fall in love in one day, and your life perspective can change in one day.
One such experience occurred for me when I traveled to El Salvador several years ago. At the time, I was not aware of Archbishop Oscar Romero (my visit occurred before Romero’s beatification and subsequent sainthood) and certainly unaware that he would become one of my spiritual mentors.
During that visit, I became aware of Archbishop Romero and his transformation from a status quo priest to a staunch defender of the rights of the marginalized and the “least of these.” Romero’s spirit was almost palpable in El Salvador. During our seminary excursion through the country, we met with many groups and nongovernment organizations. One of the groups we visited was a women’s cooperative, located in a remote village of Armenia, which had been inspired by Archbishop Romero. These women displayed tremendous entrepreneurial drive and discipline and had built several businesses including a bakery. During our visit with the women,
they told us how they got a small well built for the community. They described how before the well was built they had to travel far from their community to obtain water, and that families often had to make the choice between food or water.
After coming together and forming the cooperative, they made an application to build a well in their community and, because they were organized and ready to act, they were accepted and approved to build a well that allows them to provide water to every household in the community every other day, or three times a week.
When we asked them how they chose where to build the well, these women of faith, hope and love responded, “we stuck a shovel in the ground in the name of God” and prayed to God. They stuck a shovel in the ground in the name of God and prayed to God and water began to flow.
Such faith, such a utilization of the instruments they possessed. In a poem commonly known as “The Romero Prayer,” Ken Untener writes,
“We cannot do everything, and there is a sense of liberation in realizing that. This enables us to do something,and to do it very well. It may be incomplete, but it is a beginning, a step along the way,an opportunity for the Lord’s grace to enter and do the rest.
“We may never see the end results, but that is the difference between the master builder and the worker.
“We are workers, not master builders; ministers, not messiahs.
“We are prophets of a future not our own.”
Memorial Day is a time we typically honor military personnel who died while serving. Beyond the beautiful memories of those who offered the ultimate sacrifice, this year I am reminded that it was two years ago that I was writing about the George Floyd killing and that it was a mere two weeks ago that the massacre in Buffalo took 10 human souls, and just this week 21 souls, including 19 children, were murdered in the Texas school shooting. Has anything changed for the better in the intervening two years? I know my heart continues to break and my soul and spirit scream and cry out, enough! Enough of this disregard for the beauty that is the birthright of all God’s offspring.
One of the five remembrances of Buddhism that I find most powerful states, “My actions are my only true belongings. I cannot escape the consequences of my actions. My actions are the ground upon which I stand.” It is only our actions that live on. The poet Rainer Maria Rilke invites us to live life’s questions. In closing, I will invoke Rilke and ask you some questions: What type of instrument will you be? Will you put your shovel in the ground for some cause, perhaps justice and democracy? Will you help someone along the way? For as the Negro spiritual declares, “If I can help somebody, as I travel along. My living shall not be in vain.” May beauty light your path.
Namaste