Aground on the Isle of View?

The timing of this writing sets the framework for its topic – Holy Week. The older I become the more meaningful this week is. Many say, “Father, this week must be so busy for you.” Thanks to all who come forward to take part in the Triduum celebrations, my work is less frenetic. The meetings and the appointments actually become less and I am able to focus on the realities that are dramatized this week. For me, I am blessed to truly call this “a holy week.”

Part of the week takes on the feeling that life has run amok. Once, when I was sailing down the St. Croix River from Hudson, Wisconsin to Lake Pepin, the keel of the sailboat got buried in about six feet of mud. It felt like I was too far into it to turn around, and the more the boat moved ahead, the more difficult it was to move at all. Running aground leaves one feeling that there is actually no way out. I’m reminded of the phrase that Hardy said to Laurel: “Another fine mess you’ve got me into.”

There are so many events we immerse ourselves into this week to express this reality: the agony in the Garden, the betrayal of Judas at the Last Supper and in the garden, the betrayal of Peter in the Sanhedrin, the entire Way of the Cross, the fickleness of the crowds and Jesus’ own disciples, the outcry of Jesus on the cross, and the darkness and seeming finality of Jesus’ death. There so many experiences in our lives where we feel we have run aground and there is no way out: marriage problems, alcohol, sex, and gambling addictions, violence in relationships, depression, cancer, foreclosure, unemployment, and old age. All these can make our life situation feel as if there’s no way out. It’s enough to cause such anxiety as to make us actually sweat blood.

We can run aground, but if we discover that it is on the Isle of View upon which we are beached, we can actually use this grounding to push off or to use as leverage. At the beginning of the Easter Vigil, with all emphasis and eyes on the Paschal candle, the Exsultet is sung. With only the light of the candle illuminating the church, this hymn of praise speaks to how “no way out” becomes “the only way out.”

On the Isle of View, one can rejoice in Adam’s sin. Humanity’s choice to be suspicious of God’s intentions with a deep lack of trust introduced a breach in the relationship between the Divine and the Human. This breach created a longing, a wandering, a disorientation that would led us to run amok. Indeed, the Exsultet rejoices in the “necessary sin” of Adam, “the happy fault which caused such a Savior to be born.” This rejoicing can only take place when we realize we’re aground on the Isle of View. When we understand this, our problems become opportunities, our weakness becomes strength, our brokenness becomes wholeness, our sin becomes an opportunity for God’s mercy, and our sickness becomes God’s opportunity to manifest healing and compassion. Our being lost becomes a chance to trust in God’s way.

When there’s free sailing, one could easily believe and live as if there is no need for God. Indeed, running amok increases the awareness of our dependency on God. “Not my will but yours be done” is letting go of control when, in reality, we never really had it to begin with. On the Isle of View we are really grounded when we run aground.

I pray that this Holy Week be a time where the suffering of Christ is seen as our suffering and our suffering is seen as Christ’s. We venerate the cross. We rejoice in God’s grace as we see ourselves on that cross. The cross is our grounding.

May peace surface in the midst of the muck. May joy sustain, that we may sing with all our heart, no matter what circumstances we find ourselves in: the great HALLELUIA!

Happy Easter! Skipper of the Soil.(muck)

Isle of View – The Need for Focus.


Sometimes I wonder what comes first: the view or the focus? Obviously we have a view. To know what’s in the view we have to focus on the particulars. But the view gives us the context.
I started the series of reflections on the Isle of View because I had time for reflection. Most of January was spent in physical therapy, prayer and thinking. After my surgery, there seemed to be a certain clarity of thought and understanding of purpose that I never had before. One might say it was the effect of the anesthesia wearing off. But this awareness lasted much longer than the few days effect of anesthesia. This "extra" time that I had on my hands was available to me to decide how I could best use this time. Given the fact that I was not moving around as easily as I seem to be able to do now, I decided to use this time to journal my reflections and, if it may be of help to others, to share them. I was given time for reflection. I filled up this time by writing an article. Of course, you could say that "Isle of View" IS my reflection.


The main idea that kept on recurring in this recovery time was that my life has been filled with many activities and just as many concerns. As I rested in between my physical therapy exercises, I began to see that many of my activities and much of the frenzy of my life really didn’t add up to be much in terms of meaning or even accomplishments. In reality, I wondered if much of the activity of my life was responding or maybe reacting to stimuli that come into my life. I often wonder, these days, if the sense of being scattered and so busy comes from a lack of intentionality. What do I intend to do with my time? I believe sometimes there is a lack of purpose and direction in my life.

It’s almost as if, some days, I lack something like a rudder that would steer my boat. I let the wind and rough seas of interruptions and distractions determine the direction of my activities. The other day, I came upon an intersection with all four semaphores flashing red light. I waited for the driver of the car that was already stopped on my right to proceed through the intersection. I waited and I waited. I realized that the driver was distracted and did not understand that all the lights were flashing. I watched as other cars from other directions proceeded through the intersection after stopping. Even after this, that driver kept watching the flashing red light and remained paralyzed in distraction. So many say, "I have so much on my plate." I want to ask, "How did it get on your plate in the first place?" Does that sound rude? I believe someone needs to ask that question. Why all the busyness?

Then, when someone asks me how I am in my life, I respond, "Oh, I’m really busy." It’s almost as if the busyness justifies my existence. Sometimes I feel that’s what busyness really is about: justifying existence. After my surgery, I felt that I was given permission to do absolutely nothing but "recover." Why is it that we need to be sick to do nothing except rest? Can we rest, reflect, and focus on our lives even when we are not sick? At times, I see this can happen on vacations or in retirement. I believe we need to incorporate a sense of direction, a focused intentionality, and an understanding of the purpose of our lives into every decision we make right now and not in some future phase of our lives where someone else gives us permission. How much of what we do is "on purpose?" If we don’t slow down and think about what we’re doing and we how are doing it, what ends up happening is that the busyness takes over our life. Busyness does not permit us to even take time to ask what our rudder is, that is, what determines the direction of our lives.

With every decision Jesus had to make in his life, we can see him spending time in prayer. This pattern in the rhythm of Jesus’ life demonstrates a way to make sure the rudder is in the water. I’m amazed to hear Jesus say in response to the disciples searching him out to continue to heal the crowds: "let us move on to the neighboring villages so that I may proclaim the good news there also. That is what I have come to do." (Mark 1:38) He didn't let the dire need of His surroundings determine His direction or actions.

For me, I believe the rudder of my life is to build relationships based on my faith. My faith is the reason I enter into any relationship. My faith tells me that God is found within the dynamics of relationship. In this way, I need to constantly reflect on the following questions: How much of my activities really exist for the sake of building relationships? Are my tasks and goals designed to establish and maintain relationships?

Whatever the case may be, I know now that I am back in the frenzy many activities. Because of this I struggle to maintain the rhythm of reflection that was given to me during my intense recovery time. I have set the personal goal of writing an article every week and publishing it on Wednesdays. I believe I will maintain this personal goal not so much because people might be looking for a new article on Wednesday, but because it might be a way to honor and even maintain some sense of the clarity of understanding that I became very conscious of during this intensive recovery.

Writing this article, that is, being on the Isle of View really does help me sort out the clutter of distractions and meaningless activity. To stop, think, and truly be self-aware of what I’m doing is the only way in which to sail on the Isle of View.

Centered? Skipper

Isle of View- Pain...What's the Use?

Isle of View:       Pain—what’s the use?

Recently I attended some faith formation classes in which the students were able to ask me any questions they wanted. A sample of some the questions are: what are your favorite color, sports, Bible story, holiday, and food? How long have you been a priest? Do you like being a priest? When did people start having faith? Have you preached at other churches? Do priests retire? Can a priest adopt a child? How many miles do I go on my tricycle? How old do I have to be to be a server? And what is the training like? How old is the church? Do you like talking in front of everyone? Why are the robes different colors? Are the robes itchy? What is God’s gender?

The question that impressed me was: “Father Don, do you think you are paralyzed for a reason?” Another child chimed in quickly with: “he was in a motorcycle accident!” I responded with: “yes, that’s how I became paralyzed. But I think the question is about why I’m still paralyzed.” I asked the child if she was referring to the fact that there may be a purpose to my suffering. I was intrigued by a nine-year-old girl asking this type of question; that someone could objectify an experience like pain which is so personal and attention-getting.

Obviously because my experience with pain, I was very interested in trying to give this answer it’s just due. It was definitely a challenge to speak about this on a fourth grade level. Also because I just recently underwent surgery to get rid of pain. I told the little girl that I believe that pain can serve a purpose. My short answer to her was that the purpose of pain in my life to teach me to be compassionate to others and to realize every a moment of my life that God is in charge and I am not.
I believe there is more to be learned and understood in the experience of pain. I also understand that there is a built-in energy for self- survival. However, I believe this society treats pain as an experience that has absolutely no value. Thus we try to do everything and anything to get rid of it. In the same breath, I have to say that my pain was severe enough to put me in a situation of desperation. At the same time, I gave it all over to God. I chose to undergo the surgery not necessarily judging its worth by what outcome I would have. I chose the surgery give to myself to God, no matter the outcome.   I was ready to have the pain become worse.

I believe we need to allow ourselves to hold the pain the way Jesus did on the cross. We need to be patient and trusting enough to be immersed in the tension and the turmoil; in the alert awareness and attentiveness that pain can create in our lives. We need to discipline ourselves to look at pain in a creative way. Our natural response to pain is either to fight or to run. Sometimes I think we do both at the same time.
Jesus taught us a new way of working with and growing from the experiences of our life that cause inconvenience, discomfort, confusion, and chaos. As the Franciscan priest, Richard Rohr, writes “Jesus reveals to us a way to bear the pain of the world and not hand it on to those around us. When you stop resisting suffering, when you can really do something so foolish as to welcome the pain, it leads you into a broad and spacious place where you live out of the abundance of Divine Love. I can’t promise you it will leave that quickly or that easily.”

Father Rohr speaks to pain within the context forgiveness. I believe he does this because they are so intimately connected. We become angry and oftentimes need to blame ourselves or someone else for our pain.  Thus Father Rohr writes: “Because the hurts of life are so great, you cannot let go of the pain on your own. At that point, you need to draw from a Larger Source. What you are doing with forgiveness is changing your ego investment in your own painful story—which too often has becomes your ticket to sympathy, and sometimes your very identity. Forgiveness is one of the most radically freeing things a human being can do. When we forgive, we have to let go of our own feelings, our own ego, our own offended identity, and find our identity at a completely different level—the divine level. I even wonder if it is possible to know God at all—outside of the mystery of forgiveness (Luke 1:77).”(The Art of Letting GO--a CD)

Having said all of this, I have to end with a disclaimer. I know many who suffer from depression or some other type of mental illness. I know some believe in the goodness of God.  They want to believe that there is some purpose for what and the way they suffer. Others are so sick that they can’t even want to believe that there can be anything positive which can come out of this suffering. I know an article like this can ring hollow and even make them feel guilty/responsible for their state of hopelessness.  I am not sure I have words of consolation.  I do know that there might be an answer to this in a transformation of how we view this disease in our society.  Through this change in perspective there may be a possibility that this sickness have less power to isolate us, one from the other. And maybe, just maybe, in our interconnected sharing in the darkness of this illness, we all can come to see from the Isle of View.

In this light, on the Isle of View, I would have to say most, if not all, pain can be a pathway to holiness. Our disposition and faith in the grace of God can determine what experiences involve destructive pain and which involve redemptive pain. In other words, to the extent we live on the Isle of View, we will live to experience the beauty of God or an overwhelming state of desperation.

I believe that the young girl who hinted at a deeper meaning to suffering has visited the Isle of View.  Her asking about the reason, the use, of my paralysis is definitely a challenge for all of us to be willing to make that visit. I am reminded of the healing touch of my mother: how powerful I came to realize her love was in overriding the pain of a bleeding finger.  I understand now I saw an aspect of my mother’s love that I wouldn’t have otherwise.  I know that this kind of experience doesn’t come soon enough for most of us but the promise of the compassionate God, that we profess belief in, is that this experience WILL come. Meanwhile we wait in hope on the Isle of View.  ---a sustained skipper

Isle of View - A trusting step into the future.  Standing with trust in the present.

 I don’t have a leg to stand on.

It is strange to move out into a space where it feels like nothing is there. It is definitely an act of trust to believe that something is going to be there to hold me up. There are no sensations which tell there is anything there.  I have no idea where my leg is if I’m not looking down.  I have no idea what my leg is doing, how it is moving or if it’s even touching the floor.

After 60 years of being able to walk, run, dance, drive, and play, now I find myself concentrating on re-learning how to walk. This process starts out one step at a time, with constant practice, alert sensitivity to what the brain perceives, and a whole bunch of trust in believing that there is something the leg remembers from the days previous to the injury.  Only this time it doesn’t feel like walking.  It feels like a different kind of skipping, limping or waddling.

The therapist says that I’m getting better. I am not sure how she measures progress, but the only thing I can think of right now is that I’m familiarizing myself with these new perceptions and sensations. It is a strange territory. Even though I am becoming familiar with this whole New World, it still feels ever so strange. I’m not sure why, but it seems like it’s in human nature to want to know how long it will feel strange.

I believe what the therapist is seeing, although I am not sure she would speak of it this way, is: that i'm learning to walk by faith not by sight or by feelings. Now, I know what it means to step out in faith.  My first steps were purely that. There is no history of standing, balancing or controlling the movements of the right leg.  I am moving like I did when I could feel and had control of the muscles. I am trying to remember what walking was like.  But also, I am walking by a certain confidence that can only come from the Isle of View, which tells me everything will work out just fine.  And you know?  I haven’t fallen once!

In this ever so new and growing-to-be familiar world, I am praying that I learn and am open to new perspectives. I am praying that my character become more trusting and more docile to the unfamiliar. I pray this process is one of not just getting accustomed to what I have; but truly welcoming those things which make life challenging and uncomfortable. I am definitely not comfortable with what I have and what I am becoming familiar with. I pray that this lack of comfort not become debilitating but rather be energizing and life giving.

I pray for the discipline to be able to stay in the present moment. I wonder why I wonder so much about the future. I know my discipline to do physical therapy can determine what type of future I have. I also know that whatever I do in the present does not always totally predict or determine what happens in the future. There are no guarantees. There are no accurate predictors. However, we do what we do in the present  moment believing, in some way, that there is something that will happen in the future because of our present activity. Maybe that’s what it means to walk by faith and not by sight. This is not necessarily an arrogant belief. We do believe we influence the future and we do believe our actions have consequences. Sometimes there are direct correlations between the present and future but not always!

The view from the isle tells me I cannot know what the future holds but I can know Who holds the future and that is enough to keep me in the present. And that is definitely a leg to stand on!

The Skipping Skipper