Category: Tolerance

Life

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

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October is respect life month. It seems intuitive to think that every human would respect the life of another and yet the headlines are filled with evidence that such is not always the case. In fact, we are all too unable to even agree on the definition of life. One simple definition based on scientific theories is that life is “ the property or quality that distinguishes living organisms from dead organisms and inanimate matter, manifested in functions such as metabolism, growth, reproduction, and response to stimuli or adaptation to the environment originating from within the organism.”

The religious definition of life is that  our life as a human begins at the time of conception. Using the more scientific definition above it is easy to see that functions originating within the embryo begin the processes that define an organism as living rather than dead. The legal definition of life has become more and more convoluted, depending on the politics of the people from which it is encoded. There is much disagreement as to whether a clump of cells inside a woman’s womb are the essence of a person or little more than a gooey mass. The controversy is at the center of ethical discussions that are far from resolved.

For those who believe, as I do, that life begins at conception it is unarguable that purposely doing anything to harm or bring death to an embryo or fetus is murder. Such beliefs make abortion unacceptable for me and a vast segment of the population. When we hear of the millions of babies who have been killed in the name of women’s health or rights or whatever euphemisms one might use, it is an unbearable thought. If I witnessed someone being killed in the street I would immediately call for help to intervene. I would willingly serve as a witness at a trial for the perpetrator. I would be considered a hero for doing so, and yet if I protest the use of abortion for all but those cases in which a mother’s life is in danger, I am viewed by many as a kook or, even worse, someone who is heartless and unkind.

I actually feel somehow complicit in something that is very wrong because I tend to be more than reluctant to speak out against a practice that I think goes against the very nature of all that is decent. I worry more about what people may think of me if I reveal my thoughts or attempt to influence theirs than about the fact that I am by omission providing my acceptance of something that I feel is wrong.

Our society sends so many mixed messages about life. We are willing to convict someone who kills a pregnant woman and her baby for two murders, but we do not consider the work of an abortionist to be a crime except under the most extreme circumstances. We have no problem arresting someone for killing or cruelty to animals and yet some argue that abortion should be legal all the way up to the point of birth.

I not only cannot abide by such thinking, but I am feeling more and more guilty for not working to end such barbarous practices. I suppose that admitting such a thing will cause me to lose friends, readers, people that I love, but somehow I don’t feel I can continue to look the other way as though I do not see. If I am to show respect for human life then it must include the child who is growing inside a mother’s womb.

There is a brilliant writer named Kevin Williamson. He is a Texan who was adopted after his birth mother gave him up. He is a master of words and a joy to read. I do not always agree with him for he is far too conservative in some areas, but I always appreciate his total mastery of expression. Perhaps because of his own circumstances he is unapologetically pro life. He often considers out loud what his own fate would have been had his birth mom decided to simply end her pregnancy rather than carrying him full term and giving him to a family that wanted him. For the world it would have been the loss of great talent at the very least, and the extinction of a beautiful individual at most.

Mr. Williamson was hired by The Atlantic not long ago, an honor of which he was quite deserving. The magazine wanted to bring more political balance to its readers which is a worthy cause in these days of so much division. Sadly Mr. Williamson did not last a week at the job. Other writers and many of the readers protested his views on abortion and loudly exclaimed that his very presence was triggering their anxieties.

In particular Mr. Williamson had once been interviewed about abortion and during the conversation he admitted, like me, that he felt that abortion was murder. The interviewer then remarked incredulously that if it were indeed murder then all those involved including the woman would be tried for murder and given the appropriate punishments. He asked if that would be okay with Mr. Williamson who answered the ridiculously hypothetical question by saying that he supposed that would have to be so. From that point forward he became known as the man who thinks that women who have an abortion should be tried and punished for murder which was hardly the whole truth of the purposeful entrapment by the reporter.

We must respect life and we must also respect the deeply held feelings of those who have strong beliefs that abortion is wrong. We honor those whose faiths do not allow them to stand for the pledge of allegiance. We let girls of the Muslim faith wear head coverings to schools where head gear is against the rules. We constantly defer to religious beliefs but freak out whenever someone admits a strong feeling against abortion even though they base their beliefs on conscience. We argue with them. fire them and make them feel as though they are somehow mean. In truth nothing is further from the truth. Pro-life proponents are simply demonstrating the respect for life that they believe begins at the moment of conception and continues util the last breath. There is nothing egregious about that.

Respecting the Young

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

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I recall once reading quotes from ancient Greeks in which they expressed derision toward the teenagers of the time. Adults all too often have expectations for youth that are unrealistic and hardly in line with adolescent development. While it is true that seventeen and eighteen year olds often took on great responsibilities in earlier times, it is also undoubtedly as fact that those same adolescents also made mistakes from which they had to learn valuable lessons. The time between sweet sixteen and about age twenty five is wrought with both wonderful opportunities and major struggles. Becoming a happy and healthy adult is no small feat, especially in today’s world. Sadly those of us who are well beyond those young years often forget how fraught with anxiety and challenges they can be.

I worry constantly about our young. Our world does not always treat them kindly and they are still working to perfect the life skills that will enable them to survive in the on their own. The process of growing up is a grand adventure on many levels and one of the most uncomfortable moments in life on others. Teens and young adults will make many mistakes before they finally figure things out, and it is up to those of us who are older to support them in their efforts, even when they appear to go astray. Many a young person’s life has been unduly scuttled because the adults around him/her lacked compassion and understanding.

I watch grown people who should know better deriding young folk who are earnestly expressing their points of view. Instead of congratulating them for caring enough to form opinions and speak out on certain issues there are those who insult them and even suggest that they should be ignored. A more reasonable reaction would be to have an honest and respectful conversation with them about their concerns rather than insulting them or simply writing them off as too immature to know have a meaningful opinion.

While I think that Greta Thunberg from Sweden has taken the wrong approach in scolding entire generations with a broad brush of disdain, I applaud her interest in bringing attention to the problems of climate change. She is quite sincere in her worries and she deserves to be heard even if we find her ideas hyperbolic and even a bit insulting. In fact, when a teen expresses the most anger and frustration that is the very time when they must be heard. In those moments they are thinking out loud and letting us know that they are attempting to make sense of the world as they know it. Simply writing them off only confounds their anger and does little to help them learn how to channel their anxieties into constructive ideas.

In the past I’ve written about the boy with the MAGA cap who was raked over the coals by adults who should have known better. They made assumptions about him based on a single image that could not possibly have told his full story. It was very wrong of the press and the world of social media to publicly scold him without really knowing him. As it turned out he was unfairly taunted and then judged by standards that most adults would have a difficult time achieving.

Then there is the young man from Parkland High School in Florida who has spoken about against guns. He has been ridiculed and insulted in grossly inappropriate ways simply because he espouses a point of view with which many disagree. Instead of complimenting him for taking the time to attempt to solve a problem that personally affected him and his classmates, he has been continually maligned.

As an educator I watched young teens do very stupid things that got them into much trouble. They were the ones who got caught and often the punishments given to them far outweighed the nature of the crimes they committed. In the most extreme cases too much emphasis was placed on retribution toward them rather than using the instance as a teachable moment. The adults in charge did indeed change the course of the youngsters’ lives, but not in the intended way. They took good kids who had done something wrong and turned them into hardened criminals. Without compassion and counseling they broke and felt as though their lives were so ruined that there was little reason to continue along a path of righteousness.

My grandfather was a storyteller. I loved sitting with him and hearing his tales that always held a kernel of wisdom. Hearing him speak was a calming and learning experience. You might say that he had been around.

  Once he told of a time when he was working in a general store as a young boy. Times were hard then and there were families that were unable to afford even the basic necessities. Many of them ran up tabs with the owner of the store with promises of repayment once things got better. One man in particular owed so much that the proprietor of the store had to deny the man anymore credit. The poor soul ended up stealing a bag of flour in desperation and my grandfather witnessed the crime.

Grandpa felt compelled to tell the owner of the store what had happened and soon enough the sheriff arrived. The lawman and my grandfather went together to confront the man who had purloined the flour. When they got to his house they found a chaotic scene in which the woman of the house was attempting to make bread. Her children were so hungry that they were eating balls of raw dough. When the sheriff saw what was happening he looked at my grandfather, winked, and suggested that my grandfather must have been mistaken in thinking that the unfortunate father had stolen anything. My grandfather understood the sheriff’s reasoning instantly and nodded in assent that he had been wrong.

We would all do well to follow the sheriff’s lead and demonstrate more compassion, particularly with teens and young adults. Our first thought should always be to help them to become better versions of themselves. Stern insults and harsh punishments are not the answer. It’s up to us to be better than that.

Sooner Rather Than Later

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

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She is an amazing young woman. She has worked very hard to earn a college degree and gain respect in her job. There are few challenges that daunt her. She fearlessly tackles problems with determination. She is faith filled and regularly attends church. She married her sweetheart not so long ago and the two of them are already living the American dream in a house that they purchased with the income gained from their dedication to their careers. She takes fun vacations with her spouse and charts plans for living a purpose filled life. She represents the epitome of the future of our nation and our world but she has borne a burden for the last two years that has threatened to destroy all of her dreams.

She is an immigrant who came to the United States as a young child. She lived here under temporary protection, all the while studying and pursuing a model lifestyle with dedication and grace. She has become an all American girl while never forgetting her roots. She is talented beyond measure and loving and gentle in nature. She should in every sense be exactly the kind of person that our country needs, and yet she has quietly worried about what might happen to her with the new immigration policies of the past two years. She wondered if she might have to return to a country that is now little more than a vague memory. She tried to imagine what she might do with her college degree if she had to leave for a place that has fewer opportunities. She thought of how she would miss all of the friends that she has made here in the United States. Her mind has been filled with thoughts of what might happen if she one day lost her protections.

In September she went for an interview with the United States Citizenship and Immigration System. She was applying for status as a permanent resident of the country. She had so much at stake, and even though she is generally optimistic she faced the reality that acceptance of her application was not automatic. She would have to undergo an interview, something that she generally does quite well. It is the kind of thing that is part of her work, but this would be so very different. All for which she had worked would be on the line. She confided her nervousness to me and requested prayers that her earnest desire to be a good and contributing resident of the United States would be seen by those who tasked with judging her credibility.

Those of us who know her well believed that she would greatly impress, but we also understood that such things can sometimes go in ways that are unplanned. We prayed and thought of her as the hours of her interview grew into what seemed like days. It was difficult to concentrate or relax. Happily good news soon followed. She now has permanent residence status and need not constantly look over her shoulder with anxiety any longer. She is free to enjoy her wonderful life and to continue to excel in it. The United States of America just won the lottery with her whether they know it or not.

I’m ecstatically happy for my young friend, but I can’t help but think of the thousands of other young dreamers like her who still live in fear. My heart aches for them because there is nothing worse than living with uncertainty lurking around every corner. So many twenty something immigrants are caught in a trap that is not of their own making. They know as little of their family history in another country as I do of mine. Only stories of people and places and ways of life create a vague picture for them but it never feels quite real. Instead their reality lies totally in the neighborhoods where they have lived in different parts of the United States, and in the schools they have attended and the friends they have made. Sending them away would be as terrifying for them as it would be for any of us who were born here. There is something intensely cruel about the very prospect of doing that to them.

I learned long ago that each situation in life must be judged by its own merits, not some ironclad set of rules that do not make sense in certain cases. The wisest judgements are those that take humanity into account. We have laws to keep order in society but when those laws do not fully consider implications that fly in the face of logic and compassion then we must change them, but so far we have not had the wisdom or courage to do so. We quibble and squabble but never quite get the job done. Meanwhile truly good and deserving young people live in the shadows wondering if and when another shoe will fall.

I am very excited for the new chapter of my young friend’s life. I know it will be glorious and that it will exemplify the dreams of the millions of immigrants who have contributed to the welfare of the United States of America over time. I wish her all the best and feel lucky that I have walked with her on her journey. My only hope that is that one day we will pave the way for more people like her to earn the right to have the weight of uncertainty finally lifted from their shoulders. It’s time that we all push for changes that will make that happen sooner rather than later.

I Choose to Stay

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

Church

A few weeks after I was born my mother and father took me to All Saints Catholic Church to be baptized by the Reverend John Perusina. My Aunt Polly was my godmother and like my mom she was a very devout Catholic. In fact all of my cousins from Mama’s side of the family attended Catholic schools where we spent as many as twelve years learning about our church and participating in the sacraments. On Sundays we dressed in our best and attended mass at various parishes across the city of Houston.

The first Catholic community that I actually remember is St. Peter the Apostle where I attended first grade. I was quite young then, barely five years old. Much of that time is a fog because here was much havoc taking place in my home with the birth of my youngest brother, the constant illnesses of my middle brother and the death of my dear Uncle Bob. What I do remember is the great kindness that was extended to me by my teacher, Sister Camilla, and a friend, Virginia. I also enjoyed visits from my Aunt Polly who lived just down the street from the church. She checked in periodically to be sure that I was doing well. I suppose that none of the wonderful people who took the time to care for me that year ever knew how much their consideration meant to me, but in my heart I began to associate my Catholicism with love.

My family moved to another home just before I began second grade. We lived within walking distance of Our Lady of Mount Carmel Catholic Church. With only a brief interruption I would spend the rest of my growing up years in the hands of Carmelite priests and the School Sisters of Notre Dame. I made many lifelong friends during those times and it was at Mt. Carmel that I made my first confession and my first communion. In the fourth grade I was confirmed in my faith. Those were glorious years in which I felt safe and loved and supported. My church family was like a great big extension of my own family, and when my father died all of the wonderful people from the parish watched over me and my mother and brothers. I was often frightened then, but the steadiness of the Church always came to my rescue.

I married my husband at Our Lady of Mt. Carmel Church and the same  Father Perusina who had baptized me was the priest who performed the ceremony. For a long time I kept driving back to Mt. Carmel for mass on Sundays but it was just too far away from where I lived. I ended up going to Sacred Heart Cathedral in downtown Houston but it felt so unfamiliar and I did not know anyone there. I floated around from parish to parish as we made our moves, but once we purchased a home I found St. Frances Cabrini Catholic Church where my own children would grow up as Catholics. I felt that same sense of family that I had enjoyed in my youth among the priests and parishioners there. My young adult life was spent teaching there on Sundays, managing the religious education program for a time, and making some of the very best friends that I have ever had.

When we moved from the house that had been our abode for over thirty years I found myself once again driving a rather long distance just to remain at St. Frances Cabrini but that became rather tedious and so I began searching for a closer parish in which to invest my faith. By happenstance I found Mary Queen Catholic Church.

The summer of 2017 had been wrought with pain for me and my husband. He had endured a stroke and we felt so much uncertainty about the future. Only a few short weeks later hurricane Harvey inundated our area. For days on end we sat in our home worrying that the waters might find their way inside while watching dreadful images of destruction in places that we knew quite well. When all was said and done we were fine but many of our family members and friends had lost most of their possessions and the security of their homes. It felt as though nobody was completely immune.

Two of the mothers of friends with whom I had gone to school at Mt. Carmel died during the time of our city’s recovery. Sadly Mt. Carmel had not been spared by Harvey. It’s roof had collapsed from the weight of the rain and it would be months before it was repaired. The families had to find alternative places to hold the funerals and it was Mary Queen Catholic Church that agreed to open their doors to provide them with a proper service. At the very same time the ladies of the quilting group at Mary Queen sent a prayer quilt to my husband with assurances that they would pray for his recovery and improved health.

We were so moved by the generosity of the people at Mary Queen that we decided that we had finally found our new home parish. We have not regretted our decision because we once again feel the kind of love and generosity that I experienced at St. Peter the Apostle, Our Lady of Mt. Carmel, and St. Frances Cabrini. The community of worshipers are the true leaders of a parish. It is in the people who fill the pews each Sunday that I find the word of God living and breathing around me. My new Mary Queen family quenches my spiritual thirst.

I am a Catholic. My parents brought me to the church as a child. I have stayed as an adult. There are many problems within the Catholic Church because even though it was founded by Christ, it is run on this earth by humans who by nature are sometimes frail and prone to mistakes. My faith bears the scars of many sins but it also represents the message of love that has sustained me during my most difficult times.

I have seen priests who failed in their stewardship and even felt uncomfortable around two of them that I purposely avoided. They were both later found credibly guilty of sexual abuse. It has saddened me to face the reality that the Catholic Church has for so long abrogated its duties to protect the flock, but I do not view the sinfulness of a few as a reason to leave. For most of my seventy years the priests and nuns and members of the Catholic Church have given me love, understanding, support, and a feeling of moving ever closer to God. I see no reason to leave or to turn my back on a religion that has been a source of sustenance and strength. I will stand by my church just as it has always stood by me.

Find me perfect people, perfect religions, perfect institution, perfect nations and I may be willing to admit that I should be disgusted with the Catholic Church. Since there are no such organizations that can claim to be without sin I choose instead to stay to help build my church on more solid ground. Jesus was all about love and forgiveness. That is how I view my own part in the Catholic Church. I will stay and I will love the family who joins me each Sunday to focus on what faith is really about. 

A Tiny Grain of Sand

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

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A home is not a particular structure with objects inside. It is the sum total of the people who inhabit it. A neighborhood is likewise not just an address, a golf course or a community pool, but the essence of the many folks who live and work inside it. A school is so much more than just classrooms and desks and curriculum. It’s heartbeat is found in the students and teachers and parents who pour their hearts into it. A church is not the edifice or the clergy but the people who share a spiritual journey. A nation is far more than domed buildings, memorial statues, politicians and laws. It is the collective hope of the people.

We humans with all of our potential along with our imperfections are the true reason that any of the institutions that we have formed soar with the eagles or crash and burn in a state of destruction. Whether we realize it or not we have the power to set the tone wherever we decide to engage. When we see problems it is up to us to first look within ourselves and ask what we might have done to prevent the difficulties in the first place and what we plan to do to ensure that things improve. When we simply sit on the sidelines ignoring those who parade without clothes our troubles are sure to endure. More often than not making a difference means walking in the shoes of those who appear to have failed before we begin advocating far flung changes.

There are certainly enormously toxic situations in the world today that may worry us. Few people have the power to actually influence the entirety of society, so we have to conserve our energies by wisely choosing the battles that we are going to fight. Perhaps we should always keep in mind the old adage of putting our own house in order first. Love literally emanates from a home in which each person is loved and respected. Because we are all very human and prone to making mistakes, some of which are more grave than others, we must always be certain to include mercy in the daily workings of our households. An old adage suggests that we never allow the sun to set on our anger toward the people that we hold dear. In justice we may have to hold them accountable for bad behavior, but in mercy we should always forgive them once they have shown a willingness to atone.

Each of us have particular causes that resonate in our hearts. It may involve improving and providing excellence in education or reforming government systems. We can certainly vote to express our desires but the results often fall short of what we had hoped to accomplish with our trip to the polls. Keeping ourselves informed and taking the time to use all available avenues to express our ideas are ways that each of us can work toward the goals that linger in our hearts and minds. Sitting on the couch grumbling or shouting at those with opposing views does little to move the dial of any institution. Like the ants that almost silently move dirt to build a mound so too must we work with the people around us to quietly create a better world.

Each of us has a particular talent that will bring the kind of positive change that works for the betterment of the entire community. If we are respectful of what each person has to offer great things may happen. Teamwork is of the essence and we have to be aware that all groups and organizations follow a continuum of behavior that includes the process of forming and assigning tasks, periods of confusion and perhaps even disagreements, and eventually states of performing smoothly. Sometimes simply realizing that a situation is ignoring our human natures is all that is needed to grease the rails of success.

One of my heroes is Rosa Parks. She was a seamstress who lived in Montgomery, Alabama and worked at a popular department store. She altered the clothing of most of the well dressed white women in that city. She was liked by the customers of the store but her blackness reduced her to indignities that were untenable for such a refined and dignified woman. After work she rode home at the back of a city bus and on particularly crowded days she had to surrender her seat to any white person who wanted it.

We all know her legendary story by now. We marvel at her courage in refusing to participate in the demeaning injustice toward her people. Like the shot heard round the world, her simple act of refusing to leave her seat launched a movement that continues even today in the spirit of upholding the unalienable rights of all people. She demonstrated like so many have done that individuals begin the process of improving the world in which we live. All change happens one step at a time, one tiny pressure after another and its spirit lies in the willingness of humans to come together one by one.

All groups are complex. Creating a healthy family is no easy task. Guiding a school to caring for every individual inside its walls is daunting. Making a community or a city or a church or a nation a place noted for harmony is a balancing act of fully respecting each of the many beliefs of the participants. It requires great diplomacy and wisdom to keep all of our institutions working together. We can help by sending support to those who agree to work for a common good rather than a single idea. Doing so means that there will be many moving parts and numerous possibilities for disagreement, but it also provides a framework for the mutual respect needed for compromise. It is a system that works in the smallest and largest of relationships as long as all parties are willing to value and understand people.

There are no unicorns and always blue skies. There is no place like Atlantis. We can’t always have puppies and kittens making us happy. The reality is that it’s tough to make things work for each of us, but it is a worthy task. It’s only when we find ways to work together that great things begin to happen and sometimes such a relationship begins as quietly as that ant moving a tiny grain of sand.