The Catholic Sun :: Phoenix Diocesan Newspaper

She had just poured her heart out about losing her job. The property management company she worked for lost its shirt in the current real estate crisis and she got laid off.

“Keep the faith,” I muttered as she walked past.

The 30-something single mother of two smiled and thanked me for my concern and kindness.

But what did I really do? Can such platitudes offer any meaningful comfort or direction when we are at the end of our rope? What can? Now is a good time to ask.

Unemployment is up. Most economists say this is cyclical, and it’s no worse than we see every 10 or 20 years, yet they admit we are probably headed toward a recession — no need telling that to the woman who lost her job.

Foreclosures are out of control. Some say it’s only those who bit off more than they could chew who are out on a limb. I don’t know about you, but that doesn’t really make me feel much better.

Oil and gas prices are through the roof. Everywhere you look nowadays the papers are filled with stories of people struggling to make ends meet, and as always most of the media will do whatever they can to sensationalize these tough times.

So what do we all do about it? Don’t lose hope and keep the faith? But what does that actually mean?

Well maybe hope — looking forward to better times to come — makes it easier to keep going. Psychologists and common sense tell us we can endure just about anything for a limited time, as long as the end is in sight, and we know that better times lie ahead. But how do we know that good times lie ahead — and how to deal with the ones we got?

That’s where faith comes in.

Maybe hope without faith is missing the point of our lives — that there is a great value to finding some solace in the situation we are in — even the worst of them.

If you believe in what you are doing and why you are doing it, you can endure more than you ever imagined.

Tragedies won’t stop happening and problems will always be a part of life. Yet, we spend our lives either trying to escape these unavoidable experiences or reeling from their effects, waiting to be free of suffering before we allow ourselves to be happy.

But faith can help us find happiness within the experiences of our ordeals themselves and how we deal with them. Because tough times make us realize the value of our lives can’t all be measured, understood or based on our prosperity, our fortune, misfortune, or end result at all.

Our value is wrapped up in the way we live, the people, the principles and the God we live for. And in turn those are the reasons to endure the toughest times life can offer — to keep going — for all those principles and people that we love.

And we will get through. But when we do, we will have much more than our rediscovered prosperity. We will have the knowledge and know-how it took us to get there. We will have the confidence in our ability to weather tough times. Most importantly, we will know better what we value, and whom.

We will all keep working hard. Because that’s what Americans do. In fact, when the chips are down, you can’t beat our spirit, our ingenuity and our faith in each other, in ourselves and in our God to see us through.

We keep going because we know that every day, every hour, every second that we spend helping spread God’s love through our own compassion, our understanding and our endurance gets all of us one step closer to making the Lord’s Prayer a reality: “Thy will be done on earth as it is in Heaven.”

And I hope none of you give up on that.

Chris Benguhe is a columnist for The Catholic Sun. Comments are welcome. Send e-mail to letters@catholicsun.org.

APRIL 3, 2008

Trip down memory lane reminds us of life’s meaning

Lent used to be the time for Catholics to reflect on our past so we could make a brand new start at Easter.

But reflecting on the past, even looking forward to the future, gets a real bum rap nowadays. Pop psychologists say to live in the moment, move on and let go of the past.

But last week, in less than 24 hours, I ran into my first love, randomly came across one of my old yearbooks in a box of knickknacks, and talked to a friend I hadn’t heard from in over a decade. While I tried to “stay in the now,” life was calling on the back line, and it would have been rude not to answer.

The first stop on my trip down memory lane was with the sweet 16 who stole my heart all those years ago. We didn’t part harmoniously. I was a typical teenage boy, and when I decided it was time to move on, I did so without much warning or thought as to how it should be done. I just snuck out the back door of her heart.

Now I know all is fair in love and war, and an age-old case of puppy love gone wrong isn’t a national emergency. But running into her gave me the chance to tell her she changed my life for the better, that she didn’t do anything wrong, and I was sorry if I caused her any pain. It also made me realize old habits die hard and maybe I still have a few I should break when it comes to how I wage romance.

Reminders of past

The next day I cleaned out my garage, one of those things I avoided at all costs for the last four years because I didn’t want to get bogged down in the past. But since I was having trouble fitting my car in between the clutter, it was time.

In the middle of a whole lot of junk, I found one of my old high school yearbooks. As I thumbed through my pubescent dreams I happened upon those corny senior sayings meant to sum up all your childhood memories and hopes for the future in one trite phrase. I read mine and all of my friends’, accented by the silly nicknames we gave each other.

After excusing the bad poetry and the uneducated optimism of youth, it reminded this fast approaching middle-age guy of all the energy and verve we had. It also reminded me of how involved we all were in each other’s lives, how intertwined were our identities, our goals and our fun. It’s hard to think about that period of my life without them.

The next day, I called one of those old friends out of the blue and found out he was having another baby; I didn’t know about the first one or the wife he had.

We compared notes, blessings and hard knocks. Then we talked about the good old times, all the things we did or didn’t do. What we remembered most was how we were always together back then, regardless of what we did. We were a team.

Then it hit me — what all these memories and magnifications of my past had in common was people — people who made me care and made me feel cared for.

Now maybe living in the past is not a good idea, but every once in a while a forgotten moment or two can remind us what our lives are really about.

Maybe they will help us to see how much we have grown, or how we still need to grow.

They can reinvigorate us and remind us of how we wanted to take on the world, and help us to rediscover all that energy we once had.

But ultimately, hopefully they can remind us most of the people whom we loved and who loved us, and how important it is for us to appreciate them.

And in those remembered moments, we just might find our future too, and all the reasons for living “in the now.”

MARCH 6, 2008

The meaning of love

A few weeks ago, I walked into my corner coffee shop expecting smiles and salutations because it was Valentine’s Day. Instead, half the people in there were down in the dumps because they had nobody to love.

I left the place wondering whether I should be in a bad mood, too. After all, I was single. (Egads!)

Our culture feeds us so much desperation when it comes to love that we all feel like if we don’t have a relationship, we’ve got nothing. But does Cupid have a monopoly on love?

I found my answer the next weekend at a big family gathering at my best friend’s house. His brother-in-law’s mother, Theresa, grew up in war-ravaged Vietnam, where she survived more than a few REAL heartaches.

Love finds a way

She was left behind in 1975 when Saigon fell, while her mother and sisters caught one of the last U.S. helicopters out. A year later, she and her husband and child escaped to Thailand, where they were imprisoned before being transferred into a refugee camp. They found asylum in France for three years before finally making it to America.

For the next 20 years, Theresa lived the American dream, working as a hairdresser and raising two children with her husband. But then it all fell apart. After 25 years of marriage, divorce robbed her of her identity. She wanted — and needed — to get it back.

She spent her vacation that year in France working with the poor at a Benedictine monastery, and it changed her life. Three months later, she left for a month-long retreat at a convent in Chile where she could work at a nearby hospice for the terminally ill. Theresa shaved them, bathed and dressed them. She ate with the nuns and lived like a nun, studying and praying.

But still something was missing. “I was afraid I was going to get sick,” explained Theresa. “There was no real hygiene, no gloves. I asked God, why do I have to do this? Maybe I can serve God in some other way.”

Theresa found her answer in an old man with sores covering his body. “I could never bring myself to touch him,” recalled Theresa. “Then one day he begged me for help into the tub. I decided to touch him with no gloves. I washed him, slowly and kindly. Then I put cream on his body. God came into my heart. I lost my fear and my pain.”

A change of heart

From that day on, dirty diapers, dysentery, the smells, the ghastly sights, none of it bothered her anymore.

When she returned to America, one of her customers, Mrs. Miller, had died. She went to see Mr. Miller to express her condolences and found a shell of a man.

The 83-year-old former economist who still worked as an expert witness was in good shape physically and financially, but after losing his wife of 60 years, he also lost his will to live.

Theresa had an idea. She invited him to Chile with her the next time she went, hoping it would help him like it helped her. But Mr. Miller was Jewish and felt uncomfortable going to a Catholic convent. He politely declined.

A few months later Theresa headed back to Chile, this time for a year.

At the Mother Teresa Congregation, she tended to 36 handicapped children, feeding them, playing with them and rehabilitating them. Then she headed off to the Little Sisters of the Poor nursing home for the elderly. Finally, she cut hair one day a week for the poor in the chapel.

One day, Mr. Miller called. He’d had a change of heart.

He joined her there for two weeks, and just like Theresa, he lived, worked and prayed with the nuns. He cleaned, bathed and fed the weak and the sick. “When I was in America I felt so old,” he told Theresa one day. “Now I feel young. I want to live again.”

Mr. Miller returned five times that year to work with Theresa. When he left for the last time, the poor, the hungry and the infirmed all gathered and embraced him.

Theresa returned to Maryland later that year and was asked by Mr. Miller’s daughter to take care of her father full time. She agreed.

And they both lived happily ever after, with a whole lot of love to show for it.

Finally, principles over politics

Posted February 7, 2008

The horse race is on again — that chaotic, contentious and glorious phenomenon known as the American presidential campaign. And for the first time in my life, I am inspired by the madness.

While many pundits and critics castigate the field of candidates as less than lackluster, it’s still “anybody’s guess” who will take home the nomination of their parties, let alone who will be president. I find that quite reassuring.

I don’t see voters lamenting a field of contenders that offers no real obvious choice for commander-in-chief, implying that maybe this nation is running out of ideas and leaders with ideas. On the contrary, it’s obvious that for the first time in a long time, the nation is free of the polarizing manipulation of too few choices.

This time around there are not one or two powerful special interest groups dominating the equation, propping up their pick for president while the bulk of the middle class is ignored or simply pacified.

I once wrote a column about how the nation was not polarized, but only the politicians were. In other words they were playing to the extremes, the polarized and usually hateful special interest groups on one side of the aisle or the other because they knew that these tightly knit, politically committed special interest groups could be depended on to get out the vote, and get them elected, even if they ignored the rest of the electorate.

This time around those special interest groups are split and not as powerful.

With several candidates still vying for our votes and splitting up these usually solidified groups, suddenly the whole of the American public is being courted for its vote. For the first time in a long time, every vote really matters, and the politicians need all of us.

Without an obvious winner being shoved down our throat, it leaves us much more capable of criticism and choice. In other words, we can look at the whole field and evaluate what they stand for, what they are proposing for America’s future and how they plan to pull it off.

If you think about it, we haven’t heard such an array of disagreements among candidates within the same party in a long time.

That’s good for the everyday people who can now be heard even more.

And we can all be proud of helping to bring this about. Because as the politicians became increasingly more polarized over the last few decades, we became more independent — all the voters, that is. In Arizona, for instance, a record 28 percent of the electorate now claims no allegiance to either party.

That’s especially good for us Catholics.

That’s because we make up the largest swing vote in the United States (25 percent of the population and 29 percent of U.S. voters). Unlike other blocs, we “swing” either way, Democrat or Republican, depending on the issues at hand.

That’s because we tend to vote our conscience rather than a party. What a concept.

This year, with no one of the candidates firmly securing those large special interest groups, the concept of going simply to their base has been replaced by the need to secure more of the swing voters, like Catholics.

So let’s savor this opportunity and use it as a chance to be heard and to listen and learn about all these candidates.

If you are not sure whom to vote for, then do a little homework. Go to the candidates’ Web sites and read their policy papers. Send their campaigns an e-mail or give them a phone call if you want to know more — and for goodness sake vote in November.

What’s old is new — for the smart at heart

Posted January 4, 20008

The young, purposeful woman sitting next to me in the café busied herself crocheting a new carrying bag.

She couldn’t be more than 25 years old, an age at which one might expect her to more likely be reading about accessories in a hip fashion magazine than making them.

As she worked the intricate loops with her hook, I was transfixed.

“Where did you learn that?” I asked.

“From my grandmother when I was 5 years old,” she answered proudly. “It’s the kind of thing somebody else has to teach you — it’s hard to learn from a book.”

As I reflect on this beautiful art passed down through generations, I think of my parents, both in their 70s, in great shape physically and mentally thanks to thoughtful living and devotion to things and people that mattered. Nevertheless, they both still struggle with life’s problems, like health care, planning out the rest of their lives on limited incomes and a host of other age-related concerns.

I listen and try to understand. But like so many others in the world, there is a limit to my appreciation. I am focused on my own problems and my issues, even though I constantly try to understand theirs.

But when it comes to one issue — wisdom — we are more inexorably connected: they have it, and I want it.

I try to spend more time with them than I used to. I enjoy doing so, and I hope they do too. I know they have seen and lived so many experiences, things that still lie ahead of me.

Recently, prodded by my outspoken mother’s suggestion, I began to pay more attention to the plight of retirees, something I certainly never did when I was younger and obsessed with all things young.

Back then, I passed up amazing opportunities, looking right through some of the most incredible people I ever met when I was a teenager delivering prescriptions for my local drugstore to nursing homes and assisted living centers, where I ran into those with storied and accomplished pasts, like the former famous Ziegfeld Follies dancer who could only hold my attention for the minute or two I was there to make a delivery, or the World War II veteran, one of Ike’s aides, whom I hurried past on my way out of the store so I could make it to an early movie with my girlfriend. Or my own grandparents whose courageous tales of coming to America and survival against the odds weren’t as interesting to me as my own struggles.

Now that I know better, I wonder why the rest of the world doesn’t. Rest assured things are a lot better in many ways now than for those who went before. Organizations like AARP have done wonders for transforming the image and the plight of seniors in America. They and others have brought great light to the worth and value of our elders.

There is a greater awareness that seniors contribute hundreds of billions of dollars to our society each year in unpaid services, whether volunteering at their local church or hospital or helping friends and family members.

And last year, President Bush signed into law the five-year reauthorization of the Older Americans Act. The new law expanded many of the programs and efforts aimed at recognizing and supporting older adults’ contributions to our community, while welcoming them to continue those contributions.

On the local front, organizations like our own Foundation for Senior Living and many senior centers keep our greatest Americans connected to each other, to opportunities to improve their situations and to the world in general.

Obviously, we need to do everything we can to help and protect those who paved the way for the rest of us from the pitfalls of financial and social hardship as rising prices of drugs, medical services and the cost of living outpace the means of many seniors.

But we also should realize a great opportunity to capitalize on something that has never existed before in the history of mankind — a booming population of human beings living longer than others have ever lived, who have evolved past the petty physical needs and selfish concerns of youth to know, feel and understand humanity and the world in a way that no young person ever can.

We all have a tremendous opportunity not just to help and respect our aging population but to learn from them to reach a new level of understanding and appreciation of the world around us and the souls within us.

Then maybe we can all weave this world and our time in it into a meaningful experience that truly makes sense in the next one.

NOVEMBER 1, 2007

Unthinkable: Customer bills cheerful man as ‘rude’

There’s a big difference between impropriety and rudeness — and I hope we don’t all forget the difference because there are a whole lot of great times and great people we might miss out on if we confuse the two.

Case in point: Courtney, the amiable and ever-jovial older gentleman who meets me with a ready joke and garrulous greeting every time I wander into my favorite coffee joint.

Courtney is like a character out of an old Mickey Rooney and Shirley Temple movie, only he’s taller than Mickey and has a better backhand (he’s a real whiz on the court). But he has that same “golly-gee-life-is-so-swell” personality with a dash of sporty style that makes him a real shoe-in for anybody’s friend.

After seeing the 70-something silver-haired gentleman with a teenage spring in his step bound about the shop one day talking to everyone and anyone, I struck up a conversation. I asked him why he always had a tennis racquet in his hand. He asked me why I always had a notebook with me. I explained I was a writer. He explained he was a tennis fanatic and always liked being ready to play. That was the beginning of our beautiful friendship.

Since then, every time we run into each other we talk about politics, or sports, or philosophy or religion (he’s an incredibly astute and faithful churchgoing Catholic who is probably more up on his biblical passages than I am).

Sometimes he shares stories of his wife of 34 years, or his children (the gosh-darned most romantic thing I have ever seen was him walking hand-in-hand with his wife down the street coolly clad in a college letterman-like jacket).

He’s just one of the most likeable guys in the world. So you can imagine my utter shock and dismay when I heard some guy in the coffee shop was complaining about him.

It seems Courtney has a habit of breaking the local protocol when it comes to approaching and conversing with people. In other words, he talks to everyone about everything. Sometimes he just wades into a conversation like a rowboat that lost its oars, and he doesn’t really think much about walking up to a perfect stranger and chatting.

Apparently, that ruffled the feathers of one of the big birds who frequent the joint, and he accused Courtney of being “rude.” But in the words of Montoya from “The Princess Bride,” I told the protesting patron, “I don’t think you understand the meaning of that word.”

Just to be sure, I looked it up. The definition of rude is “without culture, learning, or refinement; harsh, or ungentle; lacking respect.”

That certainly didn’t describe Courtney — the man who last week discussed Thomas Aquinas’ proof of the existence of God with me.

Or who shares his concern over the war and its casualty toll, having performed his duty and galvanized his love of country by serving in the military himself in Korea.

Or the man who openly reveals his ongoing struggle to live the Gospel’s message and never has an unkind word for anyone, but always has a smile on his face as though it were New Year’s Eve.

It occurred to me that what Courtney’s detractor probably meant was not that Courtney was rude, or disrespectful, but that he was not “proper,” meaning he was not “conforming to established standards of behavior.”

Aha! That was it. Courtney is clearly not proper all the time.

But thank God, I thought. Because I think I would go crazy if there weren’t a few salt-of-the-earth Courtneys out there forgetting to be proper because they were too busy being friendly, real and kind.

They make it a little easier to handle all the stuffed shirts.

And they make it a whole lot harder to be in a bad mood when life gets you down.

October 4, 2007

Summer’s passed

And it’s the little things that are oh, so cool

After bearing the brunt of summer with a broken AC in my car, I was more than a little relieved when God turned down the big heater in the sky last week.

In fact, now that I think about it, I never appreciated the end of summer so much. That’s when it hit me that we may have created such a world of human comfort, success and prosperity in this country that we have, ironically, made ourselves less capable of enjoying it. Maybe a moment of simple reflection in the cool autumn breeze can change that.

In this world where we usually have either the money or the technology to solve most problems, do we appreciate the God-given blessings and solutions a little less?

Do we truly appreciate the relief of autumn like people here used to, before the days of climate-controlled goodness?

Think about how settlers braving the torturous desert heat must have felt come this time of year.

We have plenty to rejoice about as we can now open the windows and let out the old air and breathe in the new. We have so much to appreciate, and hopefully we take the opportunity to leave our cars at home once in awhile this time of year to ride our bikes to the coffee shop, clearing out our hearts and lungs and the skies of a little less pollution.

Maybe we can smile a little more too now that the sun’s scowl has turned into more of a gentle sideways smirk, nature’s gentle way of hinting that giant yellow orb will soon be working reduced hours for the season.

It sure makes me think about all the other modern American conveniences I have become accustomed to in my world, things that might make me a little less appreciative of what I have, rather than the other way around.

More than four billion of the world’s people will never own a car, let alone one with a working AC. Less than half the world’s population has a refrigerator, nor much food to put into it. Half the world’s people don’t have a TV or a telephone, or even the electricity to run those items. And over half the world’s people live on less than $1,000 a year.

Yet most of these people find more than enough reasons to get up every day and live their lives. And so many of us in this nation often question the value of our own.

I’m not suggesting that anyone purposely suffer through the kind of sweaty summer I did. Nor am I espousing that you all become Trappist monks giving up all your conveniences for good.

But maybe one day when you seem to be less than excited about life, or frustrated at your plight, try giving up a little of the manmade conveniences you have insulated yourself with. Then see how much you appreciate the little comforts that God provides.

And I’ll bet the gentle autumn breeze will feel the best it ever did.

SEPTEMBER 6, 2007

Fictional or not, relish time with animated family members

A few years back, religious writer Mark Pinsky wrote a book called “Gospel According to The Simpsons: The Spiritual Life of the World’s Most Animated Family” in which he asserted that the infamous dysfunctional cartoon family, despite all its failings, was actually a deeply virtuous and loving family — one that was ultimately very moral and appealing.

Judging from the ticket sales of the recently released Simpsons movie, I would say most of the country seems to agree with the appealing part. Families from coast to coast have embraced the adorably underachieving Homer and his irresistibly imperfect family for nearly two decades.

Maybe that’s because even though Homer and his brood frequently say and do all the wrong things, they inevitably realize the error of their ways and try to do better. The ultimate catalyst for that realization is their love and devotion to each other and their utter loyalty to the family unit.

Likewise, people cozied up to the Osbournes a few years ago, a show about the true life adventures of a family led by a discombobulated, recovering-addict, rock-star father of two punked-out kids kept in step by an unconventional but dutiful mother.

These TV families are perpetually flawed — one in trivial ways and the other more seriously — yet they are attractive and interesting to us. Why? First of all, on a very superficial level, they are funny. But why their humor hits home lies as much in the nervous identifications we have with them as it does in the sheer slapstick fun they portray.

They are caricatures of all of our families in one way or another, playing up the various flaws that all of us, at one time or another, find in our own families. But at the end of the day, they are the stories of families coming apart at the seams that are trying to stay together.

These stories appeal because they draw upon all our stories of our families: imperfect, troubled, constantly struggling to overcome the personal trials and tribulations incurred by the personal demons of parents, sibling rivalry and the general pathology and beauty of humanity on the whole. All that rolled up into a package of rag-tag people genetically brought together to love and support each other as best as they can.

I have spent nearly two decades interviewing thousands of people from every walk of life, from presidents to paupers and the famous to the felonious and everyone in between. One of the greatest realizations that brought is that just about everybody’s family is crazy in some way.

Sometimes that’s nothing to laugh at, as when serious forms of physical abuse or abandonment are the case, for instance.

In the absence of such extreme violations of the familial code, there is a huge pool of families that are annoying, overbearing, embarrassing, rude, silly acting or just downright wacky.

From the very first time that you shun their eccentric behavior, or disavow any connection to it when they come to pick you up at school as a child, you are cutting your nose off to spite your face — right up to the last time you put off your parents or let the voicemail take your brother’s or sister’s call because you were tired of hearing their problems, dismissing them because they might not fit into your life because they are not what you may have wished them to be.

Maybe TV’s fiasco-families are a lesson to behold. Because they tell us that we are OK, even though we are not part of the picture-perfect family. That is important because we will either spend the rest of our lives wishing we had a perfect family and rejecting the imperfect one we were given, or embracing and responding to the real one we’ve got.

Those who take the latter route usually are better off for it. Go Homer!

Chris Benguhe is a columnist for The Catholic Sun. Send comments to letters@catholicsun.org.

AUGUST 16, 2007

Enough is enough: Will the real America please stand up?

Americans get a bad rap nowadays for being way too concerned with winning.

Greed, avarice and materialism are all too often the attributes with which our nation is identified. But every once in a while, we stand up and show everyone how much we value truth, fairness and integrity.

Take for instance last week when there wasn’t any celebration after Barry Bonds blasted his 734th career homer against the Milwaukee Brewers at Miller Park, breaking Hank Aaron’s all-time National League home run record (Granted, it wasn’t the all time record, which he would go onto to break at home a few days later.).

Why not?

Well first of all, it was an away game. Secondly, despite the milestone, the Giants lost the game 10-8, and none of them was celebrating when the team was being buried somewhere beneath the floorboards of the National League West division.

But there is of course that GIANT other reason — steroids! Did Bonds cheat his way to a lot of those home runs by injecting himself with performance-enhancing drugs?

The fact that nobody has ever proven that Bonds was cheating notwithstanding, it is amazing that simply the allegation of a lack of integrity and fair play was enough to make millions of fans around the nation voice a communal “boo” as this inarguably great player broke a big record.

In fact, the whole steroids-in-baseball issue was upsetting enough that it even resulted in congressional hearings on the whole matter a few years back.

Americans demand integrity

Similarly, after the hooligans at Enron and a few dozen other “misguided” execs took scores of American stockholders to the cleaners a few years ago, the American people booed too, and did a lot more. They called for immediate action, which resulted in prosecution and jail time for a couple of handfuls of unethical bigwigs.

But even more importantly, the strict new corporate-governance Sarbanes-Oxley was passed overwhelmingly by Congress in 2002. Sarbanes-Oxley instituted rigorous internal controls, a monitoring watchdog for auditing firms and finally forced top executives to stand by the accuracy of financial results. Companies grumbled and struggled to meet new ethics demands and deadlines — and argued and jousted with auditors over how to interpret the requirements. But, finally, they caved.

And in response, the number of companies that restated their earnings rose sharply after the law passed reaching its zenith in 2006 with almost 1,500 companies’ execs “clarifying” earnings to be less than stated. This year the number dropped back down to half of that, signaling to many experts that the law has finally ingrained itself in the business psyche of America, making transparency and honesty more of a rule than an exception as companies take the lessons they’ve learned and integrate them into company policy.

Even all the money and corporate power in the world couldn’t stand in the way of right and wrong, and the will of a fair-minded people to banish corruption and cheating from their midst once they were pushed too far.

Earlier this month when the Senate asked for President Bush’s signature on a major lobbying and ethics overhaul bill they had passed by a vote of 83-14, another blow was struck for truth, justice and the American way. Under the bill, earmark sponsors would have to be identified, and the earmark information would have to be posted in a publicly available database at least 48 hours before the Senate votes on any provisions. Senators and presidential candidates would have to start paying charter fares for rides on private planes, and senators and staff members could not accept gifts from lobbyists.

And congressional and presidential candidates would be required to report when lobbyists arrange donations and deliver them as bundled contributions. The reports would be required when the bundles reach $15,000 during a six-month period.

This was all of course instigated by the Jack Abramoff landmark lobbying shenanigans a few years ago. Once again we finally stood up and said enough is enough.

For cynics, all this begs the question of how much has actually changed and how much corruption, cheating and lying is still going on out there everyday.

That’s life. But no matter how you slice it, we are a nation that aspires to and values truth and integrity. And eventually that makes most of us stand up and cry out for what’s right, even when a few rotten apples don’t.

And that’s what makes the REAL America one of the richest countries in the world.

Chris Benguhe is a columnist for The Catholic Sun. Send comments to letters@catholicsun.org.

AUG. 2, 2007

Halfway through 2007: Things are pretty good

Congratulations, you made it through half the year.

Now you get to enjoy my “we’re-halfway-there-and-things-aren’t-halfway-bad” musings, just to stick it to some of those depressing naysayers, doomsayers and just all around disagreeable sorts that fill up the airwaves with bad news.

Last January, the lovely folks who monitor the Doomsday Clock moved the minute hands to five minutes to midnight, the first such change to the clock since 2002. The Doomsday Clock has been a universally recognized indicator of the world’s vulnerability to nuclear weapons and other threats since the Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists at the University of Chicago created it in 1947. The tick forward this year partially reflected growing concerns about what the board called a “Second Nuclear Age” marked by nuclear ambitions in Iran and North Korea.

Not a great way to start out the year — right?

A matter of perspective

So a few weeks ago when U.N. nuclear inspectors confirmed North Korea had shut down its reactor, which experts believe generated plutonium for building nuclear bombs, as part of an agreement reached with the United States, South Korea, Japan, China and Russia, you would think it would have had those doomsday experts jumping for joy.

It didn’t, but that’s OK. After all, these are the same guys who took several years to move the clock back after the fall of Communism and the Berlin Wall. I guess they just like being scared.

On May 22, the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration issued its foreboding prediction for the 2007 Atlantic hurricane season. Scientists predicted an overactive season for the second year in a row with 13 to 17 named storms, with seven to 10 becoming hurricanes, of which three or five would be major hurricanes of Category 3 strength or higher. An average Atlantic hurricane season brings 11 named storms, with six becoming hurricanes, including two major hurricanes.

Halfway through the season there have been zero hurricanes. (Don’t worry; they didn’t even come close to hitting their ominous mark last year, either). I guess these below-average hurricane years must be due to something bad that someone hasn’t concocted yet.

At the end of June, police just across the pond in London thwarted what could have been a devastating terrorist plot when they discovered cars loaded with nails packed around canisters of propane and gasoline. The perpetrators planned to detonate the cars and kill possibly hundreds in London’s crowded theater and nightclub district.

On another front, teen pregnancy didn’t go up this year. Actually, the rate of U.S. teenagers giving birth has continued to sink to a record low, with a dramatic drop among African-American girls, according to a government report out in July.

The report said that after rising in the late 1980s, the birthrate among girls between 15-17 years old dropped every year for the next 15 years, reaching a record low of 21 per 1,000 young women. And that’s even while the use of birth control pills dropped too from 25 to 20 percent, a fact I’m pretty happy about after seeing too many good friends whose bodies were ravaged and damaged by the pill.

And talking about births, guess what? About 11,000 beautiful babies will be born today in America, and most of them (around 96 percent) will be happy and healthy without any complications, diseases or birth defects.

Bad things happen every day and they always will. We must all take the good with the bad, and we must even be inspired by the bad to be better, to be compassionate and be a part of the solutions.

But a lot fewer bad things happened in the last six months than could have happened, than the doomsayers believed would have happened.

The world ain’t so bad and we are pretty good — after all we had a pretty good Designer. Happy summer.

Chris Benguhe is a columnist for The Catholic Sun. Comments are welcome. Send e-mail to letters@catholicsun.org.

JULY 19, 2007
It’s incredibly hot out there: Offer it up as a sacrifice to God

It’s July in Arizona and triple-digits are the standard fare. And I have been driving around in a car without air conditioning. Am I crazy?

Well, that possibility notwithstanding, there is another explanation.

I am not that into cars, and I don’t like being in debt, so I have been driving the same paid-off, old Toyota pickup truck for more than a few years now.

That’s fine with me. It’s cheap to maintain, gets me from points A to B, and is a great device to weed out overly superficial or materially concerned people who might expect me to have a fancier car.

All was fine until the AC went kaput. Now I had a problem: my old truck was actually worth about as much as the cost it would take to fix the AC. Not a real wise investment.

So that meant, like it or not, it was time to look for another car. But I wasn’t going to rush out and buy something without taking the time to do research, investigate what I wanted and make a sound purchase.

In the meantime, that meant feeling like I was out on the open range on horseback in the Old West every time I needed to drive anywhere.

No problem. I just took an extra shirt or two along with me on my travels, and asked if it was OK to take a shower in the rest room when I arrived at my destination — just a minor inconvenience.

OK, obviously this was not the end of the world, but it was a real pain. And after roughing it through a week of 110-plus degree days, I figured I deserved a medal of some kind — maybe a melted CD to hang from my rearview mirror.

That’s what I thought until I saw Henry. While I was furiously wiping my sweaty forehead from behind the steering wheel, I noticed the elderly African-American man who had to be in his 70s rolling down the street in his wheelchair. And he was moving at a snail’s pace.

I must admit, I only barely noticed him when I spied him downtown around noon. I figured he was simply making his way to the next bus stop, since he was dressed way too nicely for a long journey and couldn’t possibly even be considering wheeling himself anywhere distant in this oppressive heat.

I continued on my way to church, then to lunch, and then to share a cappuccino with a friend.

In fact, I had forgotten all about Henry, and was again lamenting my sizzling situation when three hours later and about four miles down the road, I spotted him again. Now he was wheeling himself the opposite direction and was only a few blocks from my home.

Flabbergasted, confused and concerned, I stopped and asked if he needed help.

“Nope, I’m fine,” he responded affably enough, “thank you though, and God bless!” Comforted by his reassurance that he was OK, but a bit unconvinced as I watched the waves of perspiration teeming on the shores of his furrowed brows, I inquired where he was coming from or going to.

“Going home,” he informed me happily. “Just went to church, like I do every Sunday.”

Then I asked him why he didn’t take the bus instead of suffering the heat.

He answered me as if it were obvious.

“I save the bus fare so I can put it in the collection at church,” he explained all too logically. “Those people need it more than me.”

I thanked him for his time, and I drove off in the heat.

But it’s a funny thing — I haven’t really felt that uncomfortable in my hot truck ever since.

Chris Benguhe is a columnist for The Catholic Sun. Send comments to letters@catholicsun.org.

JULY 5, 2007

Doing the right thing: Love, not fear, key to fruitful coexistence

One day when I was about 12 years old, a wonderful priest asked our religion class to tell him how children and adults differed when choosing between right and wrong. The answer? Respect.

Children did the right thing because they were afraid of getting punished for doing the wrong thing. But as adults in Christ we are blessed with the empathy, the knowledge and the soulful desire to do the right thing out of respect for and concern for God and others.

Not because we are forced to, not because we are made to feel guilty if we do not and not because we think we will be struck down by lightning. Thank God, literally, He inspires us to share.

We choose not to steal, kill, cheat and covet not only because of fear of God’s wrath, but because it hurts our neighbors, our souls and it wounds Christ who is present in others.

Now that the dust has settled a little bit from my evaluation of Al Gore’s global warming agenda a few months back (“Gore vs. Smokey: Whose planet-saving message has greater impact?” The Catholic Sun, April 19), I thought I would respectfully reply to a few of the lively letters the column prompted.

To clarify, I wasn’t criticizing him or his mission, just his scare tactics, the same scare tactics that can reduce us to desperation and rob us of our inspiration. Say, for instance, those used to justify some incursions into our liberties in the name of protecting us from terrorism and even the fear mongering used to oppose those incursions. Or tactics that encourage xenophobic, inhumane perspectives on immigration that make us dehumanize immigrants. Or efforts which try to scare young people into abstaining from drug and alcohol use rather than teaching them that these are stupid, selfish, bad habits.

The bottom line is that global warming, as bad as it might be, is one symptom of the greater disease of rampant and uncontrolled consumerism which we are just plain not going to be scared out of. So if we don’t figure out how to share the world’s resources responsibly for all the right reasons, all the “environmentalism” in the world will be for naught.

Love, not fear

Lucky for us that’s where once again God gives us what we need, if we are willing to listen. As Christians we are challenged to battle our selfish desires to overindulge out of love, not fear. We are inspired to temperance by God’s grace and prodded to share, care and support others rather than continually satiating only our own desires.

Fear-inspired reactions don’t always help us to achieve that. A hundred years ago progressive activists feared the world would destroy itself before the end of the 20th century due to overpopulation. The reactionaries encouraged nifty means of fixing that like sterilizing the handicapped and other “eugenic” solutions aimed at allowing only the strongest and fittest to reproduce.

Then in 1970, scaremonger Paul Ehrlich, author of “The Population Bomb,” predicted that between 1980 and 1989, 4 billion people, including 65 million Americans, would perish in the “Great Die-Off.” That inspired Alan Guttmacher, the former president of Planned Parenthood, to espouse coerced birth control, compulsory sterilization and compulsory abortion, throughout much of the world.

They were all wrong — and thankfully, unsuccessful in their efforts.

If this entire nation, the whole world for that matter, switched to ethanol tomorrow without doing anything about our consumption, we would eventually run out of land to grow crops, which would cause food shortages for the rest of the world. If we all used electric cars but insisted on driving more and more, we would still have to build the batteries that would cause more pollution than the exhaust of present-day cars. If we all built 10,000-square-foot houses (incidentally, the size of Al Gore’s estate), we would never house even the current populations of God’s beautiful people.

Fear of how the planet will punish us little children if we don’t worship it right is misbegotten and ineffective because we know we are clever enough to figure out some way to keep selfishly existing; history proves that.

I do not believe that is a childish dream, but a reality we can achieve in a respectful and hopeful way.

Chris Benguhe is a columnist for The Catholic Sun. Send e-mail to letters@catholicsun.org.

MAY 17, 2007

One mother’s death-defying choice
And her son’s life-giving sacrifice of love

A few years ago I met an amazing mother who risked her life to protect her unborn baby.

After years praying to God for a child, Robyn and her husband finally heard the words they always dreamed of hearing: they were going to have a baby.

But there was only one problem. The doctor also informed her she was suffering from a rare and life threatening kidney disease, and having that baby could kill her.

Then came the words she and her husband could never have even imagined hearing: her doctor suggested she have an abortion.

Delivering the child to term would put incredible demands on her slowly degenerating kidneys, accelerating their failure. Her chances of surviving the pregnancy were slim. Not to mention the pain and suffering that she would endure even trying to do so. He assured her nobody would fault her for taking the prudent course.

But Robyn wouldn’t even give it a thought; she refused to kill her child. If it was God’s will that she and her child die trying to make it through this together, then so be it, she insisted. She had prayed for this blessing for years and she knew God would see her through, whatever the outcome.

It wasn’t easy by a long shot. By her seventh month, the news wasn’t good. After collapsing one day, they rushed her to the hospital and confirmed what they already knew — her kidneys were giving out and she didn’t have much time left.

Robyn was restricted to bed rest, while everyone hoped and prayed she could make it the final two months. But a month later with her blood pressure soaring, her ankles swollen to the size of grapefruits and with barely enough strength to lift her head, her doctor decided they had no choice but to induce early delivery.

For 12 grueling hours, Robyn struggled to bring her baby into this world, while the doctors fed her nutrients to try to keep her alive. Then it happened. She was the proud mother of a healthy five-pound, five-ounce baby boy.

Amazingly after the delivery, her health rebounded for a short time. But it didn’t last. For the next 18 years she fought an uphill battle. Countless medical procedures, painful weekly dialysis procedures and one failed transplant later, she was dying.

Yet through it all, she had been a champ of a mom. So much so that her little baby boy who was all grown up now, almost 18 years old, had one dream — to pay his mother back for saving his life all those years ago.

At her son’s request and without his mother’s knowledge, he asked doctors to find out if his kidney was compatible. Though not a perfect match, a modern procedure called cross-matching would allow the transplant to work.

At first Robyn refused. She wasn’t about to let the son she saved risk his life for her. But there was no talking him out of it. He was determined to save her.

A full day of surgery later, mother and child awoke in gurneys next to each other. The operation was a rousing success, and they both lived happily ever after.

I have never found anything that can make one human being rise above circumstance and to such greatness and great love than that of a mother’s love for a child. For all of us who will never know the joy of being a mother, hopefully we have known the joy of having one that did just that.

I know I did, and I thank God for it every day of my life.

Chris Benguhe is a columnist for The Catholic Sun. Comments are welcome. Send e-mail to letters@catholicsun.org.

MAY 3, 2007

Enough is enough: Americans turning backs on over-the-top coverage

“Please let us heal!” begged the mother of one of the slain Columbine High School students when I called her for the umpteenth time for yet another sensational sound bite. That was eight years ago after Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold went on their now infamous killing rampage in Littleton, Colo.

Reporters went on a rampage of their own, to find someone they could blame besides the killers, someone that would make another good story. The constant, sensational coverage lasted for almost a month and it turned a tragedy into a catastrophe of epic proportions that portended the end of times was just around the corner.

The next day the man sitting next to me while I ate my breakfast in the diner down the street turned to me and sighed, “What is the world coming to?” That was the day I left the mainstream press.

A couple of weeks ago, papers and TV news were touting sensational headlines of another school massacre, this one at Virginia Tech. But though the victims and the perpetrators were different, the unseen assailants — the American press — and the unspoken victims — the American public — were the same.

Once again, there was far more supposition and exploitation than fact or constructive information. The media fed off the tragedy far longer than was prudent, regardless of the news-worthiness of it. And again they claimed they were informing the public while they terrorized them and shamelessly used the victims to sell newspapers and get ratings.

And, once again, a stranger sitting next to me in a diner hung his head low and sighed, “What is the world coming to?”

Stop the madness

But one thing was different this time around — in quite a wonderful way. This time America said, “Enough!”

After enduring several days of headlines warning us about the “danger” in our schools, sensational videos of the killer’s pre-recorded hysterical death rants blazed across our TV screens. Angry viewers swamped the switchboards at NBC calling for a stop to it all. America simply wasn’t buying it anymore. And though coverage continued — it was significantly reduced.

These events are anomalies. The rate of violence in schools continues to be on the decline, as it was when Columbine happened. Your child is now safer in an educational institution than anywhere else.

But that doesn’t stop the newspapers and the media from making a cottage industry out of stories about bloodbaths in our schools, possibly even inspiring more of them because scaring people entices them to watch and read.

But what will stop them is people — readers and viewers — not buying it. And as America grows less tolerant of it, more journalists change their ways.

Since Columbine, there has been a slow but growing movement of those changing the face of journalism one heroic, triumphant or constructive story at a time. More journalists are realizing their ability to inform and to educate. More and more papers and TV newscasts tell us stories that matter, that inspire us to see a truer picture of who we are. They work a little harder to paint honest pictures of our hardships and our flaws but also of our ability to overcome those shortcomings.

My heart and prayers go out to every single person who was touched in any way by the tragedy at Virginia Tech, as well as to all those other unseen victims of the countless atrocities suffered the world over every day.

But the world is filled with both despair and joy, and that will never change. What we can control is which one we choose to foster.

Chris Benguhe is a columnist for The Catholic Sun. Comments are welcome. Send e-mail to letters@catholicsun.org.

APRIL 19, 2007
Gore vs. Smokey: Whose planet-saving message has greater impact?

Who’s smarter, Al Gore or Smokey the Bear?

Now I don’t mean who has a higher I.Q. (no offense to Smokey or Al either way). But I wonder who is more clever when it comes to trying to save the world, and who inspires us more to be our best so that we can.

As temperatures soared here in the Valley before springtime even clocked in on the calendar, Al Gore and his “Inconvenient Truth” film seemed to provide a pretty “convenient” explanation for the unseasonably warm weather.

But after logically concluding a few hot days does not global warming make (nor does it disprove it), something else hit me. Even though I don’t understand what scores of scientists around the world still can’t either, I am terrified of what Gore says global warming will do. I repeat — terrified. Not motivated, inspired or encouraged to make a difference — just terrified of the dark, inevitable future he paints.

Later that same scorching day while taking refuge in my favorite little coffee shop, I heard a fashionable young mother touting the accolades of Gore’s movie to another young mother. She recited all the “inevitable” catastrophes that will, according to Gore, happen — like all the glaciers melting and the seawater rising 20 feet to swallow us whole, along with millions of miles of coastline and cities around the world.

Meanwhile both mothers’ children hung precariously on every word and grew more terrified with every gasping detail. Finally one innocent little 6-year-old girl asked, “Does that mean we are all going to die?” Both mothers spent five minutes trying to backpedal out of their apocalyptic tirade and assure the tike we “probably” would not if we fix things.

But ultimately neither parent mentioned practical conservation ideas such as cheaper alternative fuels, reducing commuter pollution by giving people cost incentives to live closer to the center of town, cost-cutting energy efficient appliances and other economically-
inspired, hopeful solutions that fix problems instead of convincing us we are the problem.

The end result — that little girl was simply scared out of her wits, just as I was for most of my youth that the whole world was going to explode in a giant nuclear fireball before I turned 18.

In contrast, remember the first time you saw Smokey the Bear talk about protecting the forest? Warm and cuddly, yet always strong and resolute, Smokey reached right out of the TV with those big brown eyes and said, “Only you can prevent forest fires.”

While it wasn’t scary, it was convincing enough to encourage people to save trees, birds and campgrounds, because the land was for everyone and it had value. Smokey was empowering. He made sense.

Smokey made me an environmentalist in a hundred different ways — the most annoying of which was asking my parents not to litter and repeatedly telling their smoking friends not to throw their cigarette butts out the window.

I’m not the only one Smokey impacted. It’s the longest running public service campaign in U.S. history, and is one of top 100 ad campaigns of all time — right up there with Campbell’s Soup.

Created in 1944 to convince citizens to help reduce forest fires, which depleted timber and manpower needed to fight the war, the campaign decreased acres lost to forest fires from 20 million in 1944 to about 5 million today.

Smokey appealed to a verifiable need to protect our nation, our valuable resources, and an aesthetic desire to protect beautiful places we all enjoyed. He succeeded because he was simple, honest and made us feel good about what we could do. He gave us reasons, but he also gave us hope all wrapped up in a warm, fuzzy package.

I’m just as concerned about the planet as Gore. I’m sure he is as well-intentioned as Smokey, but he might take a few pointers from him.

Maybe Gore could convince Smokey to look us all in the eye and give us some simple, reasonable and hopeful ways to fix real everyday problems at home like pollution and drought.

But I don’t think he could talk Smokey into telling us we were all going to drown in a giant tidal wave in order to get us to do it. Thank God.

MARCH 15, 2007
Too much celebrity news?
Be thankful you’re ‘everyday people’

Was the sensationalizing of the short and sad life of Anna Nicole Smith actually good for society? Maybe.

I asked myself: Was there any redeeming value for us in her crazy life and the media’s obsession with it? Then it hit me.

The overexposed, blonde bombshell exposed Hollywood for what it really is: a place where crazy people go to get away with being insane. And for all their fame and fortune, you can thank your lucky stars you aren’t one of them.

This isn’t your grandfather’s Hollywood, and Anna Nicole Smith was the perfect mascot for today’s Tinseltown. She didn’t have any real talent or craft, so she laid bare the whole sad agenda of modern Hollywood — a gaggle of self-absorbed, egocentric malcontents who become celebrities mostly so they can live like lunatics without any accountability, any structure and any real rules.

Encountering Anna Nicole

I know from whence I speak. Once upon a time, back in the ’90s, I was sentenced to endure the glitz and grime of Hollywood as an entertainment reporter, and I had a chance to meet Ms. Smith and the rest of the glamour gang.

The night before my inauspicious rendezvous with her, I reported on Drew Barrymore getting drunk and marrying a guy she met at a dive bar in the wee hours of the morning. Then I ran into a plastered Sean Penn stumbling down the street joking about stealing stuff from Sax Fifth Avenue during an after-hours movie premiere there. The next day Roseanne Barr-Arnold (whatever her name was) chased me down the streets of Beverly Hills donning a flaming red wig and screaming obscenities because my colleague took a picture of her wandering around in her pajamas looking like an escapee from the local psych ward.

A few hours later, after barely regaining my sensibilities, I met Anna Nicole. She was busy falling out of her dress and her chair and into the lap of her 90-year-old old boyfriend at the famous Beverly Wilshire Hotel’s Oak Bar. She didn’t look like a star, but rather a desperate and lonely young lady publicly humiliating herself. And I felt badly for her.

These “stars” weren’t just wild — they were insane. And Hollywood didn’t make them that way either — it attracted them.

‘Only in Hollywood’

Thankfully, the rest of us don’t have that pass. We can thank God for all the frustrating expectations and checks on our behavior that we “everyday people” face in our normal worlds. Friends, family and community care enough about us to hold us accountable for that behavior, and that will save our lives more often than not.

Therein lies the value of this out-of-control celebrity sensationalism. The greedier, more superficial and insane we realize they are, the better we feel that we are not. The modern stars’ lack of morality or sanity is a vindication of our abundance of it or desire for it.

In some strange way, watching them spiral out of control keeps us on the straight and narrow. Could something that absurd actually be true — that people so misguided could help us find our way?

I guess, as the saying goes, only in Hollywood.

As for the real world, maybe eventually we will tire of watching those famous fools, realizing just how blessed we “ordinary” people really are.

Chris Benguhe is a columnist for The Catholic Sun. Comments are welcome. Send e-mail to letters@catholicsun.org.

MARCH 1, 2007
Fear or love?
The decision is yours

Three years ago a man broke into my home in the wee hours of the morning.

He made it all the way into my bedroom and inches from my bed before I awoke. I had two choices: I could lay waiting in fear or respond. I had no weapon, so I could only defend myself with God-given courage, confidence and faith. I summoned all three quickly and chased him out of my house, then called the police.

I was lucky. Still, it changed the way I looked at fear forever. Ever since that night I will not let fear paralyze me.

There is a whole lot of fear out there in the world today. It is a part of an ever-present battle going on in this nation, in this world and in our hearts between love and fear. Which will win?

Will we react to those who use terror to manipulate us? Will we live in a state of servitude to those fears, doing whatever we think we must to avoid the inevitable doom?

Or will we show love while walking through the valley of the shadows of life and death fearing not, for we have the Lord God at our side? And shall we not look to intimidate but to inspire, comfort and seek communion with others while we do it?

Experience

I was reminded of that recently when I met with immigration activist Elias Bermudez. A few weeks ago he and others fasted to inspire a solution to the illegal immigration problem. I spoke with Elias in the middle of that week. We exchanged thoughts on immigration and agreed it was an important “human” issue that deserves resolution.

But Bermudez initially intended to protest in a very different way. He is the same activist who promoted the Hispanic labor walkout in 2005, and this was originally to be a hunger strike until all Mexicans stopped working in this state. But a Catholic priest from St. Francis Xavier Parish convinced Bermudez to see things a little differently.

“I decided to stop trying to use my power, but instead to ask God for His wisdom for a solution,” Bermudez said. “The priest told me, ‘You are going to make people a lot angrier, and a lot of people are going to get hurt. Why don’t you do a spiritual fast instead?’ So now I am searching for God’s wisdom and His answer instead of mine.”

So instead of throngs of angry protesters, crosses lined the compound where he staged his peaceful protest. He sat quietly and contemplatively, talking and discussing his ideas. And many came to listen and share.

Immigration is just one of the many “human” issues that we see more clearly through love rather than fear.

But what of other issues? Will we be afraid to talk to our neighbors or strangers? Will we sit quietly at our jobs while injustice or incompetence hurts others? Will we resort to fear and antagonism to enlist the support of others for our own motives?

Or will we open our hearts to love and understanding and communicate with others in mutually beneficial ways?

Fear, or love? You decide. The latter has a great deal more to offer.

Chris Benguhe is a columnist for The Catholic Sun.

Perspectives
Feb. 1, 2007

Seemingly insurmountable issues?
Religion can be our saving grace

Is this nation overwhelmed with problems and mired in an innate crisis of conscience and direction that’s too big to overcome?

Maybe. But what if this confusion helps us rediscover our nation’s calling? What if there were a very clear and simple policy that could get us back on track?

Well, since the United States of America was founded on the notion of the divinely ordained innate value of human life — and every aspect of our brand of democracy was an outgrowth of that — old-time religion might be exactly what we are looking for and it is readily available.

What do we do about the ongoing war in Iraq? How do we deal with the immigration crisis in this nation? What about fighting terrorism — how far do we go before we have violated the rights of Americans and others?

Then there are all the ongoing problems like poverty (where and how do we draw the line between capitalism and cruelty?) and health care (how much can we afford to absorb of the uninsured and how can our souls endure abandoning them?).

Religion may be the saving grace that gives all of us — even the non-religious — the wisdom and fortitude to find our way amidst a barrage of national and global challenges because religion is where we got it in the first place.

“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.”

Can a nation that is divinely ordered to promote life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness of innately valuable persons turn away anyone who is being deprived of that elsewhere? It seems not.

The practical difficulty of opening up our borders to those who are fleeing poverty and oppression might be a logistical nightmare, but so is the task of allowing 300 million votes to be counted to determine the leader of this nation. We must do both to preserve our inspired form of democracy.

Can a Godly nation allow for those who are sick or hungry to go unattended? Clearly, it cannot. How this nation goes about achieving such, whether through government-inspired solutions or through private and charitable means, is another issue.

If we want to do the right thing, we will probably need to make very real economic, political and possibly mortal sacrifices in order to do so. We can’t be afraid to embrace the divine mission that has always been our best guide.

As Abraham Lincoln said when asked if God was on the Union’s side: “Sir, my concern is not whether God is on our side. My great concern is to be on God’s side.”

Chris Benguhe is a columnist for The Catholic Sun.

Perspectives

January 18, 2007

Makes much more sense to live in the present tense

It seems like we’re always starting over, doesn’t it? A new year, a new day, a new friendship, new relationships, new jobs, new car, new problems — just when we thought we had the old ones kind of figured out.

I’ll never forget how angry that used to make me when I was a kid in school. If only we could just do the same year over and over again, I figured, then we could finally get everything right — and it would be so much easier the second time around.

Oh, well. As we look forward to new experiences, it’s true that we will never be able to do the old ones over again, just like all those school years.

Would’ve, could’ve, should’ve

We will never be able to take those exact same tests over again that we failed. We will never be able to take back those angry words or dole out mercy and kindness when we were too busy or insensitive. We will never be able to jump on those missed opportunities to learn, to love, to live the way we wished we could (or should or would) if we knew then what we know now.

I realized this after a close friend who hurt me badly in the past came back into my life recently. With it came all the anger, hurt and regret over what once was and what could have been.

It really threw me for a loop, mostly because they never apologized for their behavior; instead they wanted to move on in our friendship as if nothing ever happened. God help me, I just couldn’t do it.

So instead I took my anger out on them with sarcastic barbs and snide remarks. Though my leeriness of their intentions might have been justified and the behavior even understandable, I didn’t feel very good about lashing out. And what’s worse, my anger was rearing its ugly head in my interactions with others, new friends who did nothing to hurt me.

As I sat mired in confusion and sadness, I realized it was time to move on. It was time to realize not just new opportunities but a new perspective on the old ones, not just to let go of the past but to let go of the old habits and behaviors, too.

History repeats

Just as we threaten to get lost in the past, there right in front of us is a new chance and new opportunity to do the right things, to live, to love and to demonstrate all that we learned.

And that’s when it all makes sense: history repeats itself. What’s old is new and there really is nothing new in the realm of the human condition than there was when God created us. It only seems new to us with every fresh experience and lesson.

We are all getting second chances, over and over again, every time we wake up and take a breath. Maybe not always with the same people or the same situations, but with the same heart and soul that we are constantly challenged to expand. Instead of fearing or dreading those chances, let’s use them as a time to grow stronger, smarter, taller and freer.

Let’s release the past regrets, stop trying to fix the old situations and instead learn a new way to handle the present and the future. Let’s let go of the dashed hopes and recognize the new chances. Let’s let go of the old grudges, hatred, envy, jealousy and anger and embrace the divinely inspired desire to love, forgive and cherish those that love and embrace us.

Let’s all recognize the new in each of us. Christ freed us from bondage — let’s not enslave ourselves in the past but go marching on through the valley with the Lord at our sides, ready to reap His prosperity and peace of mind, body and soul.

Every little bit of love helps
December 21, 2006

‘Tis the season for compassion — thankfully it’s everywhere we turn. People taking a break from their jobs and their hectic schedules to give more to charity, and to think more about helping others.

But come Christmas Day, I guarantee you there will still be a lot of suffering and injustice out there. We simply cannot fix the world between now and Christmas. So why bother?

How will we ever be able to reach every corner of the world? How will we ever be able to comfort everyone in pain, feed the hungry, clothe the naked and protect the oppressed and abused?

Come New Year, it won’t be long before the Christmas cheer and goodwill spirit seems like a distant memory.

But that shouldn’t stop any of us from continuing to care and trying to help. In fact, maybe the realization that we can barely make a dent in the whole of human pain and suffering is a good thing to reflect on for a moment.

Because the value of caring is not primarily found in the success and prosperity of those we care about, but in the act itself — simply loving and respecting humanity for its own sake and innate value divinely transforms us and them. Only God knows what happens after that.

In fact, sometimes we cannot even fathom the effects and purpose of that caring. Have no doubt, it has an effect.

I have filled up four books with those effects, stories of those who made a difference in other lives simply by showing their love, offering their care, regardless of whether they believed they could ever fix the whole problem:

-- A caring teacher listens to a misunderstood student talk about her problems. That simple act of consideration inspires the young girl to expose her plotting pals’ plan to shoot up the school.

-- A stranger’s note to a jilted bride the same day she’s fired from her job shakes her from her doldrums and inspires her to pick herself up and try again. She goes on to be a leader in sponsoring labor reform for impoverished single mothers.

-- An aging nun spends her life tending to homeless men in a day shelter, rising every day before 5 a.m. to make them coffee, feed and clothe them, and listen to their problems, even though she realizes most of them will never get off the streets. But for one man who came to the shelter despondent after he lost his family in a horrible car accident, her kindness inspired him to get back in the game. Now he’s one of the biggest contributors at the shelter.

-- The owner of a diner extends a free meal to a man who has just lost his job and all his money. The simple gesture inspires him to get back on his feet and eventually spend 30 years of his life helping others do the same. Every Christmas he dresses up as Santa Claus and hands out money to those in need. When that same man recently revealed his identity after being diagnosed with cancer, thousands offered their prayers and support and many promised to help carry on his work.

In the end, will any of this make it all better? No. In fact, as the world grows, so will the problems, the hardships and the tragedies. With every new life there is more suffering but also more joy, more understanding and more reasons for all of us to love.

Love should never be measured quantitatively. It should be about every single isolated incident of love that is needed and offered.

As the old man on the beach said to the young one who asked him why he was bothering to throw back a starfish when thousands had washed up on the shore, and his feeble efforts could hardly make a difference, “It made a difference to that one.”

Chris Benguhe is a columnist for The Catholic Sun.

It was a good day -- really
November 16, 2006

Did you ever have one of those days where everything goes wrong? First your alarm clock doesn’t wake you up on time, then you stub your toe on the nightstand as you race to get ready for work. Then you slip in the shower and throw your back out trying to save yourself from certain death. Finally, you rip a button off your last clean shirt while hastily dressing. But then you get into your car, turn the ignition and all you hear is a click — the battery’s dead.

Incredibly, the rest of the day just gets worse. You can’t get into your groove to save your life, but everybody else seems to be having a great day and cannot understand why you are so upset. Even your funny screen saver can’t get you out of this funk.

And by noon all you want to do is run away and hide.

Well, that is exactly the kind of day I had last week. And just to make things worse, I was so terribly behind I knew I would have to work till the wee hours of the morning to catch up when all I really felt like doing was giving up.

So I threw my hands up in the air and said simply, “God, help me!”

But I figured maybe God was having an off day, too, because mine kept getting worse. My apartment manager called me in the middle of it to let me know that fire sprinklers went off for no reason in my place and there was some damage done before they could turn them off. Then the editor of my next book called to ask me for the 10th time if I was done with my edits on my manuscript.

God, help me, please!

In the middle of all this mayhem, my mother called. She wanted to know when I was coming over for dinner. What was she thinking? I was having the worst day of my life. So I told her I would call her later, after God figured out a way to help me out of this hell of a day.

Back I went into the spiral of chaos. My computer crashed, I lost the phone number of somebody I was supposed to call to interview, and my phone went dead. I paid that bill — I know I did.

At least I still had my cell phone, and it was ringing. It was my best friend calling to ask me if I wanted to go to Hawaii. How could I think about a vacation right now? How insensitive of him to be so casual, so cavalier while my world was falling apart. I needed help, and nobody cared. Nobody understood. I was alone, and the world was obviously against me. This was a conspiracy.

God, why don’t you help me?

I finally got my computer rebooted and checked my e-mail for some info I was expecting. Of course it was not there. But what’s this? An e-mail from a former student of mine asking me for advice on pursuing a career as a writer? What’s wrong with all these people? Don’t they realize this is not the day to ask me for things? And God, why aren’t you helping me? Can’t you do something?

But then it hit me — He already did. I called back my mom and told her I’d be over at 5 o’clock for dinner — and how much I could really use the break. I phoned my friend to thank him for his offer and told him I couldn’t wait to go to Hawaii. And then I sent off an e-mail to my eager little protégé who only wishes she could figure out a way to do what God has blessed me with the ability to do.

Wow! What a great day it was.

Chris Benguhe is a columnist for The Catholic Sun.

November 2, 2006

It’s not us, it’s the politicians

America is not getting more polarized — but the politicians sure are. And they have convinced way too many of us we aren’t part of the political equation unless we are an over the top extremist fatally committed to one side and ready to lob grenades at the other.

But it doesn’t have to be that way. The majority of us are in the same boat, looking for somebody to row it rather than rock it, offering solutions instead of sour grapes.

More united than you realize

I’ve traveled from one end of this country to another over the last six years, ever since we started hearing how polarized this country was becoming, but I didn’t see it, not in the ideas and the attitudes, nor the desires and goals of the people that I met.

What I usually find are people that want honest politicians who will respect their rights to freedom, and to help us have a government and a society that will do the same.

They would like a government that stands up and helps those that fall between the cracks, but they want it to happen without taking away rights or money through programs that violate their values or restrict those rights. They want their government to figure out ways to enact programs to make life better for many of us, like sensible and fruitful economic policies and wise energy policies, as well as logical foreign policies that don’t require us to police the world.

They want politicians who will clarify our best strategic interest and why, then have the courage to carry out those strategies regardless of what the media pundits or the rest of the world wants us to do.

They want candidates who speak to us, all of us, not just a select few on the extreme right or the far left. And they want a government that reaches out around the world with that same openness and compassion while still standing firm and proud as Americans. But half of us that are able to vote don’t, because we don’t believe either of the candidates will give us what we want.

For the greater part of the last century, this country has been about as “polarized” as it is now. Historically, our president is elected by about 50 percent of the voting public each time around, as was the case with President Bush in the last election. There are occasional exceptions. Like Bill Clinton getting elected by 43 percent of voters in ’92, Reagan by 58 percent in ’84, Nixon by 60 percent in ’72, Johnson by 61 percent in ’64 and Roosevelt by 60 percent in ’36.

Many politicians now realize that since less than half of the population votes, it’s easier to pander to the politically involved special interests whose members vote than tackle the more difficult task of governing the whole electorate and hoping they will vote. The result is candidates who represent the few rather than the many.

Red and blue, black and white

The bottom line is that in a two-party system, most people are going to fall on one side of the fence or another. That doesn’t mean that they are worlds apart and should treat each other like aliens. What we really need to resist is politicians’ attempts to turn us against each other for the sake of getting elected.

It’s time we all realize how united we all are for more common human values instead of political ones. We are all created to love and respect one other. “How can we do that best?” is the question we should all be asking ourselves. If politicians don’t have an answer, it’s time for someone who does.

That’s not a Red- or Blue-State issue, but it’s as simple as black or white.

Chris Benguhe is a columnist for The Catholic Sun.

Sensationalizing tragedies spawns copycats
October 19, 2006

In the last month, there have been three high school shootings in the United States. That’s tragic. But what’s worse is that the sensationalized coverage has propelled many people into frozen fear, convinced that our schools are rapidly degenerating from safe bastions of learning to dens of death.

Worse still — this irresponsible journalism could trigger more such events.

First, the representation that school violence is a trend or is mounting toward some awful and inevitable explosion couldn’t be further from the truth.

Second, journalists make money off of tragedy, and they always have. But in their greed over these stories, they aren’t just covering them, they are anticipating them and making the perpetrators into stars.

Third, their irresponsible coverage can traumatize a nation and cause copycats to seek such fame.

School violence has decreased steadily for the last 10 years. The care, concern and protective measures we have taken to safeguard our children are working.

Yet with the exception of a small blurb on NPR’s Morning Edition a few weeks ago, that information was irresponsibly excluded by every major news organization.

I was once a tabloid journalist, and I know the game and how it works. These events are big stories and warrant coverage. Journalists are in the business of making money, even though they would like us to believe they are some holy manifestation of truth and justice. But there’s a difference between selling a story and making another story happen.

Case in point, after the recent school shooting in Colorado, Fox’s Geraldo Rivera predicted, “I fear the starting of a brand new genre in terms of these maniacs acting out on our children and other innocent victims… And I don’t believe this first wave of copycat acts is over yet.” A week later the Amish tragedy in Pennsylvania happened. Is Geraldo psychic? Or do crazy people looking for infamy welcome such media invitations?

For instance, in 1999, the Columbine story inspired the most intense coverage any story had garnered in quite some time. The airwaves and newspapers were jammed with stories for months even though this was a singular event in a single city on a single day. Just two weeks later, a copycat killing occurred in Georgia.

The seventh-grade student who walked into a school in Missouri wearing a mask and armed with an assault rifle a week after the Amish incident said he was fascinated with the Columbine tragedy.

So to all the journalists out there reading this: You and I and all the other journalists in the world know how wrong this is. So cut it out before more people get hurt in the process. You have the power to provide sober and safer coverage of these events.

For the rest of you, don’t be terrorized. Instead, give the media outlet of your choice a piece of your mind — send a few shivers down their spine for a change.

Chris Benguhe is a columnist for The Catholic Sun.

Sept. 21, 2006

Religion can solve our worldly woes

Last week our nation’s most infamous anniversary passed without incident. On 9/11, we probably read scores of stories in the media of the lives lost, a few stories of the hope and progress the world has made since then, but few if any about the positive role that religion can play.

That’s actually quite odd, because in an age where fanatical extremist despots veil their autocratic agendas of murder, oppression and dictatorship under the guise of God, religion may be the only thing that saves us from religion.

Religions based on the sanctity of human life could save us from politicized religious posers using their false philosophy to justify their acts of terror.

Instead of allowing their corruption of religion to convince us we’re on the brink of some kind of global holy war or to scare us away from religion for fear of zealotry, it should beckon us to resurrect the world’s purest of religious intentions to reveal these religious charlatans. And the highest common denominator of the world’s major religions — respect for life — may be the greatest weapon we have.

At the beginning of the 21st century, even before the attack on America, pundits and commentators declared this century would be the age of religion — more affected by faith than any other since the medieval crusades. Since 9/11, we have heard the rants of al-Quaida and others who exclaim Islam will take over the world, just as plainly as Nikita Khrushchev claimed the world for communism in his famous shoe-banging United Nations speech.

In their quest for power, today’s fanatical autocrats disguised as religious leaders and draped in Islamic rhetoric are willing to do, say or destroy anything or anyone, just as the Soviet communists carefully used Karl Marx’s philosophies to disguise and justify their power mongering, while oppressing millions.

Again, as was with communism, this obvious power play grew like wildfire courtesy of an ideological affiliation. But this abomination of radicals is no more concerned about God’s will than Soviet communism was concerned about the common man. This is not about a war of religions but about a religion of war, and those that want to wage it for their own selfish gains.

The most efficacious way to fight Islamic fundamentalists is to take the wind out of their sails by exposing their true and ugly identity. If we stop new recruits from being deceived by the misguided aspects of their philosophy, the movement will wither and die, just like communism.

Let’s call their bluff and expose their sham. It’s time for a highly publicized religious summit where the world’s greatest faith leaders, Christians, Buddhists, Hindus and apolitical Muslims, willing to accept a peaceful interpretation of the Quran, all unite to patently condemn these false prophets and call for all their followers to stand up in unity against them.

If they are using their religion as an excuse to kill, let’s show them that the majority of the world’s religions and religious people will not accept that. Let’s stop allowing them to claim religion as their ally. Once exposed, their naked ambition will no longer have its appeal.

It would destroy their power from the ground up. And it might be able to pull off more than what a cavalcade of armies could.

It has been widely acknowledged that the efforts of Pope John Paul II helped bring about the downfall of communism and liberation of hundreds of millions of people. Just think what a union of many could do.

Let the religions and the religious leaders of the world call for an end to the lies and oppression of radical murderers calling themselves holy. But let them do it in loud unison with each other.

If it works, then there’s no telling what else we’ll be able to do in the name of religion.

Sept. 7, 2006

Questions with two ways of answering

Question: What do hurricanes, 9/11, the elections and newspapers all have in common?

Well, yes, they can all be harbingers of doom, for one. But they can all inspire hope, depending on how you look at them.

And since my half-brothers in the mainstream press have done a fine job of handling the former, I’ll take a stab at the positive outlook.

As we approach the anniversary of 9/11, we all must take solace in the fact that there hasn’t been another terrorist attack in this nation since 2001. We shouldn't stop being vigilant or looking for better ideas dealing with the challenging proposition of violent Islamic fundamentalism. But we can be inspired by the fact that we now know that we can step up to the plate and deal with even the greatest of challenges to protect ourselves.

We can all debate what is the best way to do this. But let us debate from a position of realistic hope in which we admit to our success en route to an even greater strategy for dealing with this dilemma. We are a nation that perseveres — let’s use that knowledge to reach for a peaceful conclusion.

Last year’s hurricane season was the worst in recorded history. Hurricane Katrina was a horrific natural disaster of unfathomable proportions that precipitated a manmade fiasco that led to its own set of unimaginable horrors. But, thank God, people finally came together — those who made mistakes and those who were the victims of mistakes, to heal the situation.

Undoubtedly there is still so much that needs to be done that should have been done already. But let us revel in the amazing progress that has occurred thanks to the love from people all over America. Let us also remember and thank God for the under-reported fact that more than halfway through the hurricane season, we have only had one hurricane.

The upcoming elections also provide opportunity to harvest hope, both in the way we choose our candidates and whom we choose. Are we choosing candidates out of hatred or fear-inspired rhetoric aimed at casting us into a desperate state of despair? (Ironically, some of the politicians who are telling us not to buy into fear are telling us we should fear their opponents.)

Or will we choose those who offer an inspired and positive vision of the future? Immigration, foreign policy, the energy crisis, just to name a few issues, all offer politicians a choice of addressing and solving problems with incredible solutions that help us to be better human beings — or to attack opponents at the expense of the people who need humane and constructive leadership. The politicians will make their choice and then we get to make ours.

Finally, all my good old friends at newspapers around the country will get to make their choice, too. Do they want to continue to fill their newspapers with desperate portrayals of a world coming apart at the seams? Or one growing in understanding, enlightenment and opportunity?

And we will get a chance to read all those articles either with a grain of salt, sifting through the sensationalism to see the chance for the success of the human race, or to get on the bandwagon, simply repeating the doom and gloom.

We can all live in fear or in hope. One perspective is based on the past and the inability to escape it, the other on creating a future filled with the possibilities of a new vision. As the saying goes — what would Jesus do?

Aug. 17, 2006

No denying it: I’m growing older, but hopefully wiser

Bet you don’t look as young as you used to.

Despite all the healthy living, eating right, exercise, skin creams, vitamin supplements and plastic surgery, we can’t escape growing older. None of us can stop the aging process from ultimately taking its toll on our bodies.

But consider this: What if we actually look better older?

Today is not my birthday or an anniversary, or any of the other usual types of milestones that typically inspire such reflections on aging. But today I sent in an updated photo of myself for this column as requested by my all-too-observant editor here at The Catholic Sun who informed me that the old one “doesn’t even look like you anymore.”

So I quickly grabbed the digital camera and snapped a new one. And, by God, he was right. What happened? I grew old, or at least a lot older than I was, which only made sense since the last photo was taken a century ago, or at least in the last century.

I have less hair now through my own volition. Thank God I abandoned the late ’80s-style pompadour I was still sporting at the end of the ’90s for a shorter, cleaner look. I have a healthy sampling of wrinkles now, a few more age lines, and more than a few specks of gray popping out of my once jet black Italian locks.

I was obviously aging — no longer growing up, but growing older. But as I compared the photos more closely, I noticed something of even greater importance. There, in all its naked and no-longer-as-perfect glory, was the unmistakable look of experience and all the wisdom and greatness it brings.

I had been transformed by time, hard knocks and God’s design from a cocky young man who thought he could handle anything to a secure one who had handled and overcome everything — much more than the young one could possibly ever have imagined.

I’m not as perky as I was back then, but I’m a lot more capable, savvy and more knowledgeable, and you can see it all on my face. Every wrinkle I could identify with an event, a test, a tough time, a trial of fire that I passed.

Each gray hair could be traced to its roots, probably one of a thousand long, stressful days, and sometimes nights, of hard work, deliberation or reflection. So many of those days and nights were followed by the ritual meeting with the mirror when I stared pensively at my image and into my heart examining my conscience and my life en route to some kind of reflection on where I was and where I was going.

The exuberant look of excitement and anticipation that was once my hearty grin was now replaced by a composed and sincere smile that exuded confidence, but even more compassion and know-how. I could see in my eyes the desire to serve instead of to be served.

Now none of this means I’m not going to be hitting the gym trying to work off that extra helping of pasta that I used to be able to burn off in my sleep when I was a teenager. But it does mean that I’m not going to lose any sleep over looking older, especially if that means that I look more capable of contributing some insight and some understanding of what life is about and how to live it in this world of ours.

I hope one day to be one of those wise old men, the type that younger folk ask serious questions to and expect nothing less than deep and profound responses. And when that time comes, I’ll be proud to look like one.

Comments are welcome
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