| American Cities That Best Fit You:: |
| 70% Austin |
| 65% Denver |
| 60% Miami |
| 60% Seattle |
| 55% Las Vegas |
12.21.2006
Austin?
Second is the best.
A Series of Comments
1. Dear Dressmakers Everywhere: I cannot wear V-neck dresses. Please design something stylish that is between v-neck and dumb-neck, so I can feel young yet make peace with my non-waifish figure. Thank you and Merry Christmas.
2. Christmas Cards. Seemingly unexpensive. And then there's the stamps.
3. Today I bought my first beer at a store (Mexico doesn't count). Woodchuck Amber Cider. It was really good, but I felt sketchy in the beer aisle, so I began whistling Christmas tunes.
4. Do you Hear what I Hear? is a great song. I did not expect this, but it gives me chills.
5. I have to go to the bathroom but I'm ignoring it. Does anyone else do that?
6. I am never ever doing a Spanish solo for folk choir ever again. I will sing O Mary of Promise in my car or something. Actually a psalm would be neat because it's actually the liturgy speaking and not just accompaniment. I used to be the psalmist at my home parish and I always loved it because I could feel the words taking on a new sincerity.
7. I have a craving for bruschetta.
8. I am making salsa tonight. I'm pretty darn excited about that.
9. Bathroom break.
2. Christmas Cards. Seemingly unexpensive. And then there's the stamps.
3. Today I bought my first beer at a store (Mexico doesn't count). Woodchuck Amber Cider. It was really good, but I felt sketchy in the beer aisle, so I began whistling Christmas tunes.
4. Do you Hear what I Hear? is a great song. I did not expect this, but it gives me chills.
5. I have to go to the bathroom but I'm ignoring it. Does anyone else do that?
6. I am never ever doing a Spanish solo for folk choir ever again. I will sing O Mary of Promise in my car or something. Actually a psalm would be neat because it's actually the liturgy speaking and not just accompaniment. I used to be the psalmist at my home parish and I always loved it because I could feel the words taking on a new sincerity.
7. I have a craving for bruschetta.
8. I am making salsa tonight. I'm pretty darn excited about that.
9. Bathroom break.
12.14.2006
A Chili Cheese Frito Confession
I have been writing a paper in the library basement since 11am this morning. At approximately 2:30pm I bought a package of Chili Cheese Fritos from the vending machine. At approximately 10:45pm I returned from Mass. I noticed a remnant Frito under my chair. I ate it.
12.13.2006
The Footnote
So I'm writing a difficult paper currently, and in doing so I have to make a lot of footnotes in my own essay. Sometimes I try to make a reference to a book in my footnote and realize the part of the book I'm referencing is actually a footnote to another text. I wonder if that text is the original, or if it's footnoted something beyond itself, too. I wonder if you could trace all knowledge back in time as a series of footnotes, one author to the former, one statement from another, one idea from the previous--Bush Jr. to Bush Sr., America to England, Mexican to Mayan, the Renaissance to caveman art, Aristotle to Plato, Mary to Eve, Eve to Adam, Adam to...The Unfootnoted Footnoter? Creation is like a series of footnotes. That is all. (Sloan 41)
12.11.2006
Best of Ever
I'd read this 1,000 times over the iconic phenomenology of Jean-Luc Marion.
A group of professional people posed this question to a group of 4 to 8year-olds, "What does love mean?" The answers they got were broader and deeper than anyone could have imagined. See what you think:
"When my grandmother got arthritis, she couldn't bend over and paint her toenails anymore. So my grandfather does it for her all the time, even when his hands got arthritis too. That's love." Rebecca- age 8"
When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different. You just know that your name is safe in their mouth." Billy - age 4"
Love is when a girl puts on perfume and a boy puts on shaving cologne and they go out and smell each other." Karl - age 5
"Love is when you go out to eat and give somebody most of your French fries without making them give you any of theirs." Chrissy - age 6
"Love is what makes you smile when you're tired." Terri - age 4
"Love is when my mommy makes coffee for my daddy and she takes a sip before giving it to him, to make sure the taste is OK." Danny - age 7
"Love is when you kiss all the time. Then when you get tired of kissing, you still want to be together and you talk more. My Mommy and Daddy are like that. They look gross when they kiss" Emily - age 8
"Love is what's in the room with you at Christmas if you stop opening presents and listen." Bobby - age 7 (Wow!)
"If you want to learn to love better, you should start with a friend who you hate," Nikka - age 6
"Love is when you tell a guy you like his shirt, then he wears it everyday." Noelle - age 7
"Love is like a little old woman and a little old man who are still friends even after they know each other so well." Tommy - age 6
"During my piano recital, I was on a stage and I was scared. I looked at all the people watching me and saw my daddy waving and smiling. He was the only one doing that. I wasn't scared anymore." Cindy - age 8
"My mommy loves me more than anybody .You don't see anyone else kissing me to sleep at night." Clare - age 6
"Love is when Mommy gives Daddy the best piece of chicken." Elaine-age 5
"Love is when Mommy sees Daddy smelly and sweaty and still says he is handsomer than Brad Pitt." Chris - age 7
"Love is when your puppy licks your face even after you left him alone all day." Mary Ann - age 4
"I know my older sister loves me because she gives me all her old clothes and has to go out and buy new ones." Lauren - age 4
"When you love somebody, your eyelashes go up and down and little stars come out of you." Karen - age 7
"You really shouldn't say 'I love you' unless you mean it. But if you mean it, you should say it a lot. People forget." Jessica - age 8
And the final one -- Author and lecturer Leo Buscaglia once talked about a contest he was asked to judge. The purpose of the contest was to find the most caring child.The winner was a four year old child whose next door neighbor was an elderly gentleman who had recently lost his wife. Upon seeing the man cry, the little boy went into the old gentleman's yard,climbed onto his lap, and just sat there. When his Mother asked what he had said to the neighbor, the little boy said," Nothing, I just helped him cry.
A group of professional people posed this question to a group of 4 to 8year-olds, "What does love mean?" The answers they got were broader and deeper than anyone could have imagined. See what you think:
"When my grandmother got arthritis, she couldn't bend over and paint her toenails anymore. So my grandfather does it for her all the time, even when his hands got arthritis too. That's love." Rebecca- age 8"
When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different. You just know that your name is safe in their mouth." Billy - age 4"
Love is when a girl puts on perfume and a boy puts on shaving cologne and they go out and smell each other." Karl - age 5
"Love is when you go out to eat and give somebody most of your French fries without making them give you any of theirs." Chrissy - age 6
"Love is what makes you smile when you're tired." Terri - age 4
"Love is when my mommy makes coffee for my daddy and she takes a sip before giving it to him, to make sure the taste is OK." Danny - age 7
"Love is when you kiss all the time. Then when you get tired of kissing, you still want to be together and you talk more. My Mommy and Daddy are like that. They look gross when they kiss" Emily - age 8
"Love is what's in the room with you at Christmas if you stop opening presents and listen." Bobby - age 7 (Wow!)
"If you want to learn to love better, you should start with a friend who you hate," Nikka - age 6
"Love is when you tell a guy you like his shirt, then he wears it everyday." Noelle - age 7
"Love is like a little old woman and a little old man who are still friends even after they know each other so well." Tommy - age 6
"During my piano recital, I was on a stage and I was scared. I looked at all the people watching me and saw my daddy waving and smiling. He was the only one doing that. I wasn't scared anymore." Cindy - age 8
"My mommy loves me more than anybody .You don't see anyone else kissing me to sleep at night." Clare - age 6
"Love is when Mommy gives Daddy the best piece of chicken." Elaine-age 5
"Love is when Mommy sees Daddy smelly and sweaty and still says he is handsomer than Brad Pitt." Chris - age 7
"Love is when your puppy licks your face even after you left him alone all day." Mary Ann - age 4
"I know my older sister loves me because she gives me all her old clothes and has to go out and buy new ones." Lauren - age 4
"When you love somebody, your eyelashes go up and down and little stars come out of you." Karen - age 7
"You really shouldn't say 'I love you' unless you mean it. But if you mean it, you should say it a lot. People forget." Jessica - age 8
And the final one -- Author and lecturer Leo Buscaglia once talked about a contest he was asked to judge. The purpose of the contest was to find the most caring child.The winner was a four year old child whose next door neighbor was an elderly gentleman who had recently lost his wife. Upon seeing the man cry, the little boy went into the old gentleman's yard,climbed onto his lap, and just sat there. When his Mother asked what he had said to the neighbor, the little boy said," Nothing, I just helped him cry.
A List of Things On my Mind
1. daffodils
2. pea-trees
3. bottlecaps
4. Ragtime
5. crevaces
6. craggy ledges and poppies
7. goosebumps
8. pizza sauce
9. squashed bananas
10. scooters
11. vacation
12. fall
13. coffee foam
14. Gak Floam
15. woodwork
16. popcorn and cranberries
17. sparrows
18. glimmers
19. bookcases
20. fish
21. pancakes
22. holly
23. fur hats
24. marshmallows
25. popcorn
that's interesting--most of those words have repeat letter...I wonder if that's a coincidence
2. pea-trees
3. bottlecaps
4. Ragtime
5. crevaces
6. craggy ledges and poppies
7. goosebumps
8. pizza sauce
9. squashed bananas
10. scooters
11. vacation
12. fall
13. coffee foam
14. Gak Floam
15. woodwork
16. popcorn and cranberries
17. sparrows
18. glimmers
19. bookcases
20. fish
21. pancakes
22. holly
23. fur hats
24. marshmallows
25. popcorn
that's interesting--most of those words have repeat letter...I wonder if that's a coincidence
12.09.2006
Between Two Monahans
Walking to the dining hall--Bob on my right, Hugh on my left...
Hugh: Well, I had a paper due at 5:00.
Me: Did you get it done?
Hugh: I emailed the prof at 5:07
Bob: I emailed mine at 5:02!
Me: Aaaah!
Hugh: Well, I had a paper due at 5:00.
Me: Did you get it done?
Hugh: I emailed the prof at 5:07
Bob: I emailed mine at 5:02!
Me: Aaaah!
12.06.2006
12.03.2006
One of my Favorite Moments this Week
Bob: OH! Oh go back...go back to um, evening activites. I think we need to readsome sort of story.
Barbie: agreed.
Bob: around a fire, with hot chocolate.
Gen: How about "Finals doomsday"?
Barbie: agreed.
Bob: around a fire, with hot chocolate.
Gen: How about "Finals doomsday"?
11.30.2006
As Finals Week Approaches
I feel like everyone around me is doing more important work than I am. I think about holing up in the library with the Chemistry majors and my philosophy paper looks trivial. I feel like what I'm writing and reading about is equivalent to cleaning the corner of a giant room with a Q-tip. Too focused, too time-consuming, trivial.
I feel like just one person.
I feel like just one person.
11.26.2006
If Folk Choir Officers Met on Thanksgiving
Well Steve is a ruthless sort and called an officer’s meeting at 7pm on Thanksgiving Day. You may not have been there, but I was. Here are the minutes.
Opening Prayer: ‘Now Thank we All our God’ by Joe Nava. Paul Hommes’ hands were greasy and his only excuse was ‘I was out catching a turkey’…in the wild…in Oregon. What a man.
Budget
-Mary McLaughlin has liquidated the folk choir account to buy sweet potatoes; everything would’ve worked out fine except that damn woman from accounting named Deb or Sharon or Lydia was too busy crimping her pie crust to approve the transaction, so our money is in yam limbo (whatever that is)
-Current Budget: 17 ½ sweet potatoes
-Geoffrey points out that this math isn’t right
-Mary doesn’t care
-Neither does Joe
[Enter Cassie Provenzale with a package of teriyaki flavored turkey jerky to share]
Tour Update
-Meg gives us the lowdown on the Winter Trip to Grandmother’s house.
-She has a bus for Through the Woods but is still working on the ferry for Over the River. This is another one of those complicated you-have-to-arrange-travel-over-water tours. Meg is frustrated. But there are posters!
-Video suggestions: Muppet Christmas Carol, Old Yeller (vetoed)
-Mary suggests that if we asked for the bus funding in sweet potatoes they’d get it to us faster.
Finer Points of Killing a Turkey w/ Paul Hommes…in the wild…in Oregon
-Graphic description sent Steve reeling for a copy of ‘Garment of Love’
-Let’s just say it involved Judo
[Steve announces he has written a psalm from the text of the Mayflower Compact. Apparently there isn’t enough ‘pilgrim imagery’ in the liturgy.]
Folk Choir Social Event—Cassie Provenzale
-A peacemaking ceremony between Lit and Folk Choirs
-Mass followed by a blessing by Fr. Doyle
-Folk choir will dress as pilgrims and Lit choir will dress as Indians as a symbol of our peaceful cohabitation. THEN WE’LL GO BOWLING WHOOOOOO!
-Traditional garb will be used. Andy Lawton begins to drool.
[At this point the meeting is interrupted by Jessica Mannen, who makes a motion to change the name of Thanksgiving to Thanksgiving-Ween and threatens to beat us up with her harem of sheep if we don’t abide. Steve saves the day. “Uh, Jessica, could you go get me 14 copies of the Tereseros Ocultos octavo?” She’s gone for 20 minutes.]
Upcoming Concerts
-November 24: We are Thankful—A Cornucopia of Song
-Featuring such FC hits as ‘Drumstick of my Heart’, ‘Cross-Pie’, ‘Escucha—Stuff it up the Bird’, ‘May you Cling to Wishbone’
Last Business
-Andy asks everyone to say what Thanksgiving food they like the most.
Paul: anything from the wild…in Oregon
-Barbie: Diet Coke
-Andy: Charles Dickens! Charles Dickens!
-Marge: A nice juicy triple cheeseburger, extra onions
-Cassie: Thinks the turkey jerky is pretty good
-Jessica: Pumpkin Pie…WEEN
-Mary: sweet potatoes
-Geoffrey: slips into a food coma before we can ask. Let’s just put down biscuits.
-Steve: Cranberries, because Gonzo sings a good song about it
-Joe: Leftovers (Get it? Fifth year? Haaaaaaaaaaaa…ehhh.)
The meeting is about to adjourn when Geoffrey Mooney mistakes Joe Nava for a Native American and grabs his musket from under the table. Chaos erupts. Everyone stands up like shocked cowboys in a bad Western bar scene. Barbie grabs the musket and points it toward the ceiling, knocking Steve’s glasses off. (We’re still not sure if this was an accident.) Cassie lunges for Geoffrey and spills the turkey jerky. Jessica returns from the library with 16 copies of music but is promptly hit by a flying piece of jerky and they all flutter up into the air. Paul Hommes leaps from his chair and assumes judo position. Mary just sits in her seat screaming like a little girl….or it might have been practice for her postlude dance at the concerts. Meg takes the opportunity to seize Andy Lawton and demand the Charles Dickens monster come out of him. In a strangled gobble he cries, “But we could wear traditional garb! It could be traditional!”
Then Steve agrees to sing the Sister Act version of Hail Holy Queen at the next Sunday liturgy and Barbie gets to do the part of the one nun who says “Virgo espici mater espici” and all are happy. God bless us, every one.
Opening Prayer: ‘Now Thank we All our God’ by Joe Nava. Paul Hommes’ hands were greasy and his only excuse was ‘I was out catching a turkey’…in the wild…in Oregon. What a man.
Budget
-Mary McLaughlin has liquidated the folk choir account to buy sweet potatoes; everything would’ve worked out fine except that damn woman from accounting named Deb or Sharon or Lydia was too busy crimping her pie crust to approve the transaction, so our money is in yam limbo (whatever that is)
-Current Budget: 17 ½ sweet potatoes
-Geoffrey points out that this math isn’t right
-Mary doesn’t care
-Neither does Joe
[Enter Cassie Provenzale with a package of teriyaki flavored turkey jerky to share]
Tour Update
-Meg gives us the lowdown on the Winter Trip to Grandmother’s house.
-She has a bus for Through the Woods but is still working on the ferry for Over the River. This is another one of those complicated you-have-to-arrange-travel-over-water tours. Meg is frustrated. But there are posters!
-Video suggestions: Muppet Christmas Carol, Old Yeller (vetoed)
-Mary suggests that if we asked for the bus funding in sweet potatoes they’d get it to us faster.
Finer Points of Killing a Turkey w/ Paul Hommes…in the wild…in Oregon
-Graphic description sent Steve reeling for a copy of ‘Garment of Love’
-Let’s just say it involved Judo
[Steve announces he has written a psalm from the text of the Mayflower Compact. Apparently there isn’t enough ‘pilgrim imagery’ in the liturgy.]
Folk Choir Social Event—Cassie Provenzale
-A peacemaking ceremony between Lit and Folk Choirs
-Mass followed by a blessing by Fr. Doyle
-Folk choir will dress as pilgrims and Lit choir will dress as Indians as a symbol of our peaceful cohabitation. THEN WE’LL GO BOWLING WHOOOOOO!
-Traditional garb will be used. Andy Lawton begins to drool.
[At this point the meeting is interrupted by Jessica Mannen, who makes a motion to change the name of Thanksgiving to Thanksgiving-Ween and threatens to beat us up with her harem of sheep if we don’t abide. Steve saves the day. “Uh, Jessica, could you go get me 14 copies of the Tereseros Ocultos octavo?” She’s gone for 20 minutes.]
Upcoming Concerts
-November 24: We are Thankful—A Cornucopia of Song
-Featuring such FC hits as ‘Drumstick of my Heart’, ‘Cross-Pie’, ‘Escucha—Stuff it up the Bird’, ‘May you Cling to Wishbone’
Last Business
-Andy asks everyone to say what Thanksgiving food they like the most.
Paul: anything from the wild…in Oregon
-Barbie: Diet Coke
-Andy: Charles Dickens! Charles Dickens!
-Marge: A nice juicy triple cheeseburger, extra onions
-Cassie: Thinks the turkey jerky is pretty good
-Jessica: Pumpkin Pie…WEEN
-Mary: sweet potatoes
-Geoffrey: slips into a food coma before we can ask. Let’s just put down biscuits.
-Steve: Cranberries, because Gonzo sings a good song about it
-Joe: Leftovers (Get it? Fifth year? Haaaaaaaaaaaa…ehhh.)
The meeting is about to adjourn when Geoffrey Mooney mistakes Joe Nava for a Native American and grabs his musket from under the table. Chaos erupts. Everyone stands up like shocked cowboys in a bad Western bar scene. Barbie grabs the musket and points it toward the ceiling, knocking Steve’s glasses off. (We’re still not sure if this was an accident.) Cassie lunges for Geoffrey and spills the turkey jerky. Jessica returns from the library with 16 copies of music but is promptly hit by a flying piece of jerky and they all flutter up into the air. Paul Hommes leaps from his chair and assumes judo position. Mary just sits in her seat screaming like a little girl….or it might have been practice for her postlude dance at the concerts. Meg takes the opportunity to seize Andy Lawton and demand the Charles Dickens monster come out of him. In a strangled gobble he cries, “But we could wear traditional garb! It could be traditional!”
Then Steve agrees to sing the Sister Act version of Hail Holy Queen at the next Sunday liturgy and Barbie gets to do the part of the one nun who says “Virgo espici mater espici” and all are happy. God bless us, every one.
Thanksgiving Memories
"So my field trip was ruined--all because of you." -Charlie to Rees, who set off the fire alarm during a field trip chemistry experiment
"It's just like going to the bathroom...[winces]...kind of." -My mother, on childbirth
"It's just like going to the bathroom...[winces]...kind of." -My mother, on childbirth
11.20.2006
I Saw a Man Pursuing the Horizon
I was walking along South Quad today feeling fortunate that God doesn't hold us accountable for every blade of grass. On my way to a meeting, not recently showered, several huge projects on the table, consistently failing to meet standards and keep commitments, I was frustrated that I couldn't manage all I'd been given. I watched the green prickly field drink in its last view of the sky before South Bend snowfall and tried to think about what it'd be like if humans kept grass like they kept children. How could we give personal attention to an endless field, to each poking, hopeful blade?
It's humbling to think about how much of this world's goings-on have nothing to do with us. We use math to determine the rotation of the stars, but one of our missteps proves us and not the stars astray. Nobody programs summertime. Raindrops are unaccounted for, fall leaves missing in action. Try as we might, we will never pull the sun above the horizon in a golden chariot. And a tree falls in the forest, proudly, unabashedly crashing and tearing other limbs, sending echoes that die before they reach the human ear.
I'm not trying to apply a more rational view here, which might rightly say we're darn well responsible for many aspects of the environment, as well as for the plight of the billions of nameless people around the world that suffer while we sit. Instead I'm trying to remind you that the hairs on your head are numbered. And so are all the blades of grass. You have counted neither.
I saw a man pursuing the horizon;
Round and round they sped.
I was disturbed at this;
I accosted the man.
"It is futile," I said,
"You can never — "
"You lie," he cried,
And ran on.
-Stephen Crane
It's humbling to think about how much of this world's goings-on have nothing to do with us. We use math to determine the rotation of the stars, but one of our missteps proves us and not the stars astray. Nobody programs summertime. Raindrops are unaccounted for, fall leaves missing in action. Try as we might, we will never pull the sun above the horizon in a golden chariot. And a tree falls in the forest, proudly, unabashedly crashing and tearing other limbs, sending echoes that die before they reach the human ear.
I'm not trying to apply a more rational view here, which might rightly say we're darn well responsible for many aspects of the environment, as well as for the plight of the billions of nameless people around the world that suffer while we sit. Instead I'm trying to remind you that the hairs on your head are numbered. And so are all the blades of grass. You have counted neither.
I saw a man pursuing the horizon;
Round and round they sped.
I was disturbed at this;
I accosted the man.
"It is futile," I said,
"You can never — "
"You lie," he cried,
And ran on.
-Stephen Crane
11.19.2006
A Turkish Legend
Aysel lived on the Eastern ridge of Sivrihisar. She had no sons. She waited for her husband Sevilen to return home from the pasture. It was dusk and the grey sky suffocated the barley fields so the wispy ends of the tassels disappeared. Her hands were worried so she made some soup. She crushed very many lentils, for Sevilen would be hungry. Her stomach was worried and so she set the soup to boil. It bubbled and popped and shook. She stirred it with a large handled wooden spoon. Her knuckles were dirty and etched like the barley stalk.
It was night and the earth made itself ashen. Aysel moved about the shadows. Her eyes shone silver-specked. She knew Sevilen would not come home. Her heart knew this. She went to the pot of lentil soup and lifted it from her elbows. She began to gulp it down. The soup sprang from her eyes; it streamed down the ridges of her high cheeks. She wept the soup, the ungiven gift, it gushed forth with terrible might. She cried the soup and it flowed from her house down the Eastern ridge of Sivrihisar, making ferocious ridges in the land. She sobbed and it scattered Sevilen's sheep in the pasture, fluffy specks, black or white of no consequence to the night. Aysel drank all the soup and the bottom of the pot glowed silver-specked. She was dry, like plucked barley. It forever rains lentils on the Eastern ridge.
You might not get it, but that's okay, because I had fun writing it.
It was night and the earth made itself ashen. Aysel moved about the shadows. Her eyes shone silver-specked. She knew Sevilen would not come home. Her heart knew this. She went to the pot of lentil soup and lifted it from her elbows. She began to gulp it down. The soup sprang from her eyes; it streamed down the ridges of her high cheeks. She wept the soup, the ungiven gift, it gushed forth with terrible might. She cried the soup and it flowed from her house down the Eastern ridge of Sivrihisar, making ferocious ridges in the land. She sobbed and it scattered Sevilen's sheep in the pasture, fluffy specks, black or white of no consequence to the night. Aysel drank all the soup and the bottom of the pot glowed silver-specked. She was dry, like plucked barley. It forever rains lentils on the Eastern ridge.
You might not get it, but that's okay, because I had fun writing it.
11.13.2006
A Message to my Senior Friends
Hey, guys,
Let's not lose this year. Let's pick ourselves up from the deep recesses of personal speculation and dark crevaces of textbook binding. Let's pretend like we're fifty with kids asleep down the hall and a spouse skimming Reader's Digest behind his bifocals next to us. Let's ask our fifty-year old selves what we would have done right now. Then let's do it. Let's plan stuff. Let's meet up. Let's have fun with each other outside of a Thursday night bar trip. Let's pray together. Let's plan awesome trips--weekend trips, spontaneous trips, road trips, spring break trips, power trips...and if we're feeling really crazy, let's go to Europe for 4 weeks next summer. Let's refuse to let up.
Anybody with me?
Let's not lose this year. Let's pick ourselves up from the deep recesses of personal speculation and dark crevaces of textbook binding. Let's pretend like we're fifty with kids asleep down the hall and a spouse skimming Reader's Digest behind his bifocals next to us. Let's ask our fifty-year old selves what we would have done right now. Then let's do it. Let's plan stuff. Let's meet up. Let's have fun with each other outside of a Thursday night bar trip. Let's pray together. Let's plan awesome trips--weekend trips, spontaneous trips, road trips, spring break trips, power trips...and if we're feeling really crazy, let's go to Europe for 4 weeks next summer. Let's refuse to let up.
Anybody with me?
11.05.2006
Bilingual
Have you ever written anything with your hands deviated from the right keys on the keyboard, just to see what it'd look like? Why yes, I do speak vqd ieyboard oqngeuage.
yje pyhwer cay u eas eskjubg nt fog foen yhr dytrry snf i dse s huuuhr vsyrtpillst judy eiyyinh yhrtr on yhr difreslk. iy esd ptryyy vtsxy. hy foh nstkrf snf i yolf iy yo dyop nuy iy fifn'y hrrf my estninh snf sll og yhr duffrn yhr vsyyrtpillst dytuvk. mt oiit lirrlr foh esd vomplryrly vobrtrf in bomiy og domr kinf ot snoyhrt. i vtirf snf vtirf nuy yo noe sbsil. my foh duggovsyrf by yhr boimsy og yhr vsyrtpillst snf i esd lrgy slonr. msynr i'll hry s vsy.
Yes. Back to homework.
yje pyhwer cay u eas eskjubg nt fog foen yhr dytrry snf i dse s huuuhr vsyrtpillst judy eiyyinh yhrtr on yhr difreslk. iy esd ptryyy vtsxy. hy foh nstkrf snf i yolf iy yo dyop nuy iy fifn'y hrrf my estninh snf sll og yhr duffrn yhr vsyyrtpillst dytuvk. mt oiit lirrlr foh esd vomplryrly vobrtrf in bomiy og domr kinf ot snoyhrt. i vtirf snf vtirf nuy yo noe sbsil. my foh duggovsyrf by yhr boimsy og yhr vsyrtpillst snf i esd lrgy slonr. msynr i'll hry s vsy.
Yes. Back to homework.
11.02.2006
Mother Teresa on Abortion
This is a speech Mother Teresa gave in 1995 at America's National Prayer Breakfast. I'm posting this whole thing because it's beautiful. And you should read it--all of it. (The italics are mine)
I hope you will count it no presumption that I seek your leave to address you on behalf of the unborn child. Like that child I can be considered an outsider. I am not an American citizen. My parents were Albanian. I was born before the First World War in a part of what was not yet, and is no longer, Yugoslavia. In many senses I know what it is like to be without a country. I also know what is like to feel an adopted citizen of other lands. When I was still a young girl I traveled to India. I found my work among the poor and the sick of that nation, and I have lived there ever since.
Since 1950 I have worked with my many sisters from around the world as one of the Missionaries of Charity. Our congregation now has over four hundred foundations in more that one hundred countries, including the United States of America. We have almost five thousand sisters. We care for those who are often treated as outsiders in their own communities by their own neighbors—the starving, the crippled, the impoverished, and the diseased, from the old woman with a brain tumor in Calcutta to the young man with AIDS in New York City. A special focus of our care are mothers and their children. This includes mothers who feel pressured to sacrifice their unborn children by want, neglect, despair, and philosophies and government policies that promote the dehumanization of inconvenient human life. And it includes the children themselves, innocent and utterly defenseless, who are at the mercy of those who would deny their humanity. So, in a sense, my sisters and those we serve are all outsiders together. At the same time, we are supremely conscious of the common bonds of humanity that unite us and transcend national boundaries.
In another sense, no one in the world who prizes liberty and human rights can feel anything but a strong kinship with America. Yours is the one great nation in all of history that was founded on the precept of equal rights and respect for all humankind, for the poorest and weakest of us as well as the richest and strongest. As your Declaration of Independence put it, in words that have never lost their power to stir the heart: “We hold these truths to be self evident: that all men are created equal; that they are endowed by their creator with certain inalienable rights; that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness…” A nation founded on these principles holds a sacred trust: to stand as an example to the rest of the world, to climb ever higher in its practical realization of the ideals of human dignity, brotherhood, and mutual respect. Your constant efforts in fulfillment of that mission, far more that your size or your wealth or your military might, have made America an inspiration to all mankind.
It must be recognized that your model was never one of realized perfection, but of ceaseless aspiration. From the outset, for example, America denied the African slave his freedom and human dignity. But in time you righted that wrong, albeit at an incalculable cost in human suffering and loss of life. Your impetus has almost always been toward a fuller, more all embracing conception and assurance of the rights that your founding fathers recognized as inherent and God-given. Yours has ever been an inclusive, not an exclusive, society. And your steps, though they may have paused or faltered now and then, have been pointed in the right direction and have trod the right path. The task has not always been an easy one, and each new generation has faced its own challenges and temptations. But in a uniquely courageous and inspiring way, America has kept faith.
Yet there has been one infinitely tragic and destructive departure from those American ideals in recent memory. It was this Court’s own decision in Roe v. Wade (1973) to exclude the unborn child from the human family. You ruled that a mother, in consultation with her doctor, has broad discretion, guaranteed against infringement by the United States Constitution, to choose to destroy her unborn child. Your opinion stated that you did not need to “resolve the difficult question of when life begins.” That question is inescapable. If the right to life is an inherent and inalienable right, it must surely exist wherever life exists. No one can deny that the unborn child is a distinct being, that it is human, and that it is alive. It is unjust, therefore, to deprive the unborn child of its fundamental right to life on the basis of its age, size, or condition of dependency. It was a sad infidelity to America’s highest ideals when this Court said that it did not matter, or could not be determined, when the inalienable right to life began for a child in its mother’s womb.
America needs no words from me to see how your decision in Roe v. Wade has deformed a great nation. The so-called right to abortion has pitted mothers against their children and women against men. It has sown violence and discord at the heart of the most intimate human relationships. It has aggravated the derogation of the father’s role in an increasingly fatherless society. It has portrayed the greatest of gifts—a child—as a competitor, an intrusion, and an inconvenience. It has nominally accorded mothers unfettered domination over the independent lives of their physically dependent sons and daughters. And, in granting this unconscionable power, it has exposed many women to unjust and selfish demands from their husbands or other sexual partners.
Human rights are not a privilege conferred by government. They are every human being’s entitlement by virtue of his humanity. The right to life does not depend, and must not be declared to be contingent, on the pleasure of anyone else, not even a parent or a sovereign. The Constitutional Court of the Federal Republic of Germany recently ruled that “the unborn child is entitled to its rights to life independently of acceptance by its mother; this is an elementary and inalienable right that emanates from the dignity of the human being.” Americans may feel justly proud that Germany in 1993 was able to recognize the sanctity of human life. You must weep that your own government, at present, seems blind to this truth.
I have no new teaching for America. I seek only to recall you to faithfulness to what you once taught the world. Your nation was founded on the proposition—very old as a moral precept, but startling and innovative as a political insight—that human life is a gift of immeasurable worth, and that it deserves, always and everywhere, to be treated with the utmost dignity and respect. I urge the Court to take the opportunity presented by the petitions in these cases to consider the fundamental question of when human life begins and to declare without equivocation the inalienable rights which it possesses.
[Many of those in attendance rose to their feet and applauded; the President reached for a glass of water, while his wife, and the Vice President and his wife looked on stone-faced. The speaker at the National Prayer Breakfast conducted in February 1995 was Mother Teresa and she forthrightly spoke out in defense of the unborn and presented a simple message of love for the poor and oppressed. She raised an intriguing question: Is there a connection between the violence in America and the violence perpetrated in the abortion clinics of our country? Mother Teresa's speech did not receive much coverage in the press. Her message deserves to be publicized far and wide. In an effort to accomplish this goal, we present this account of her presentation.]
On the last day, Jesus will say to those at his right hand, “Come, enter the Kingdom; for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was sick and you visited me.” Then Jesus will turn to those his left hand and say: “Depart from me because I was hungry and you did not feed me, I was thirsty and you did not give me drink, I was sick and you did not visit me.” These will ask him, “When did we see you hungry, or thirsty, or sick, and did not come to your help?” And Jesus will answer them, “Whatever you neglected to do unto one of the least of these, you neglected to do unto me!”
As we have gathered here to pray together, I think it will be beautiful if we begin with a prayer that expresses very well what Jesus wants us to do for the least. St. Francis of Assisi understood very well these words of Jesus and his life is very well expressed by a prayer. And this prayer which we say every day after Holy Communion, always surprises me very much, because it is very fitting for each one of us. And I always wonder whether eight hundred years ago when St. Francis lived, they had the same difficulties that we have today. I think that some of you already have this prayer of peace, so we will pray it together.
Let us thank God for the opportunity He has given us today to have come hear to pray together. We have come here especially to pray for peace, joy and love. We are reminded that Jesus came to bring the good news to the poor. He had told us what that good news is when he said, “My peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you.” He came not to give the peace of the world, which is only that we don’t bother each other. He came to give the peace of heart which comes from loving—from doing good to others.
And God loved the world so much that He gave His son. God gave His son to the Virgin Mary, and what did she do with him? As soon as Jesus came into Mary’s life, immediately she went in haste to give that good news. And as she came into the house of her cousin, Elizabeth, Scripture tells us that the unborn child—the child in the womb of Elizabeth—leapt with joy. While still in the womb of Mary, Jesus brought peace to John the Baptist, who leapt with joy in the womb of Elizabeth.
And as if that were not enough—as if it were not enough that God the Son should become one of us and bring peace and joy while still in the womb, Jesus also died on the cross to shoe that greater love. He died for you and me, and for that leper and for that man dying of hunger and that naked person lying in the streets—not only of Calcutta, but of Africa, of everywhere. Out Sisters serve these poor people in 105 countries throughout the world. Jesus insisted that we love one another as he loves each one of us. Jesus gave his life to love us, and he tells us that we also have to give whatever it takes to do good to one another. And in the Gospel Jesus says very clearly, “Love as I have loved you.”
Jesus died on the cross because that is what it took for him to do good for us—to save us from our selfishness and sin. He gave up everything to do the Father’s will, to show us that we too must be willing to give everything to do God’s will, to love one another as he loves each of us. If we are not willing to give whatever it takes to do good for one another, sin is still in us. That is why we too must give to each other until it hurts.
It is not enough for us to say, “I love God.” But I also have to love my neighbor St. John says that you are a liar if you say you love God and you don’t love your neighbor. How can you love God and you don’t love your neighbor. How can you love God whom you do not see, if you do not love your neighbor whom you see, whom you touch, with whom you live? And so it is very important for us to realize that love, to be true, has to hurt. I must be willing to give whatever it takes not to harm other people and, in fact, to do good to them. This requires that I be willing to give until it hurts. Otherwise, there is no true love in me and I bring injustice, not peace, to those around me.
It hurt Jesus to love us. We have been created in his image for greater things, to love and to be loved. We must “put on Christ”, as Scripture tells us. And so we have been created to love as he loves us. Jesus makes himself the hungry one, the naked one, the homeless one, the unwanted one, and he says, “You did it to me.” On the last day he will say to those on his right, “whatever you did to the least of these, you did it to me,” and he will also say to those on his left, “whatever you neglected to do for the least of these, you neglected to do it for me.”
When he was dying on the cross, Jesus said, “I thirst.” Jesus is thirsting out love, and this is the thirst for everyone, poor and rich alike. We all thirst for the love of others, that they go out of their way to avoid harming us and to do good to us. This is the meaning of true love, to do good until it hurts.
I can never forget the experience I had in visiting a home where they kept all these old parents of sons and daughters who had just put them into an institution and, maybe, forgotten them. I saw that in that home these old people had everything: good food, comfortable place, television—everything. But everyone was looking toward the door. And I did not see a single one with a smile on his face.
I turned to Sister and I asked, “Why do these people, who have every comfort here—why are they all looking toward the door? Why are they not smiling?” (I am so used to seeing the smiles on our people. Even the dying ones smile.) And Sister said, “This is the way it is, nearly every day. They are expecting—they are hoping—that a son or daughter will come to visit them. They are hurt because they are forgotten.”
See, this neglect to love brings spiritual poverty. Maybe in out family we have somebody who is feeling lonely, who is feeling sick, who is feeling worried. Are we there? Are we willing to give until it hurts, in order to be with our families? Or do we put our own interests first? These are questions we must ask ourselves, especially as we begin this Year of the Family. We must remember that love begins at home, and we must also remember that “the future of humanity passes through the family.”
I was surprised in the West to see to see so many young boys and girls given to drugs. And I tried to find out why. Why is it like that, when those in the West have so many more things that those in the East? And the answer was, “Because there is no one in the family to receive them.” Our children depend on us for everything: their health, their nutrition, their security, their coming to know and love God. For all of this, they look to us with trust, hope and expectation. But often father and mother are so busy that they have no time for their children, or perhaps they are not even married, or have given up on their marriage. So the children got to the streets, and get involved in drugs, or other things. We are talking of love of the child, which is where love and peace must begin. These are the things that break peace.
But I feel that the greatest destroyer of peace today is abortion, because it is a war against the child—a direct killing of the innocent child—murder by the mother herself. And if we accept that a mother can kill even her own child, how can we tell other people not to kill one another? How do we persuade a woman not to have an abortion? As always, we must persuade her with love, and we remind ourselves that love means to be willing to give until it hurts. Jesus gave even his life to love us. So the mother who is thinking of abortion, should be helped to love—that is, to give until it hurts her plans, or her free time, to respect the life of her child. The father of that child, whoever he is, must also give until it hurts.
By abortion, the mother does not learn to love, but kills even her own child to solve her problems. And by abortion, the father is told that he does not have to take any responsibility at all for the child he has brought into the world. That father is likely to put other women into the same trouble. So abortion just leads to more abortion. Any country that accepts abortion is not teaching the people to love, but to use any violence to get what they want. That is why the greatest destroyer of love and peace is abortion.
Many people are very, very concerned with the children of India, with the children of Africa, where quite a few die of hunger, and so on. Many people are also concerned about all the violence in this great country of the United States. These concerns are very good. But often these same people are not concerned with the millions who are being killed by the deliberate decision of their own mothers. And this is what is the greatest destroyer of peace today: abortion, which brings people to such blindness.
And for this I appeal in India and I appeal everywhere: “Let us bring the child back.” The child is God’s gift to the family. Each child is created in the special image and likeness of God for greater things—to love and to be loved. In this Year of the Family we must bring the child back to the center of our care and concern. This is the only way that our world can survive, because out children are the only hope for the future. As other people are called to God, only their children can take their places.
But what does God say to us? He says, “Even if a mother could forget her child, I will not forget you. I have carved you in the palm of my hand.” We are carved in the palm of his hand; that unborn child has been carved in the hand of God from conception, and is called by God to love and to be loved, not only now in this life, but forever. God can never forget us.
I will tell you something beautiful. We are fighting abortion by adoption—by care of the mother and adoption for her baby. We have saved thousands of lives. We have sent word to the clinics, to the hospitals, and police stations: “Please don’t destroy the child; we will take the child.” So we always have someone tell the mothers in trouble: “Come, we will take care of you, we will get a home for your child.”
And we have a tremendous demand from couples who cannot have a child. But I never give a child to a couple who have done something not to have a child. Jesus said, “Anyone receives a child in my name, receives me.” By adopting a child, these couples receive Jesus, but by aborting a child, a couple refuses to receive Jesus.
Please don’t kill the child. I want the child. Please give me the child. I am willing to accept any child who would be aborted, and to give that child to a married couple who will love the child, and be loved by the child. From our children’s home in Calcutta alone, we have saved over 3000 children from abortions. These children have brought such love and joy to their adopting parents, and have grown up so full of love and joy!
I know that couples have to plan their family, and for that there is natural family planning. The way to plan the family is natural family planning, not contraception. In destroying the power of giving life, through contraception, a husband or wife is doing something to self. This turns attention to self, and so it destroys the gift of love in him or her. In loving, the husband and wife must turn the attention to each other, as happens in natural family planning, and not to self, as happens in contraception. Once that living love is destroyed by contraception, abortion follows very easily.
I also know that there are great problems in the world—that many spouses do not love each other enough to practice natural family planning. We cannot solve all the problems in the world, but let us never bring in the worst problem of all, and that is to destroy love. This is what happens when we tell people to practice contraception and abortion.
The poor are very good people. They can teach us so many beautiful things. Once one of them came to thank us for teaching her natural family planning, and said: “You people—who have practiced chastity—you are the best people to teach us natural family planning, because it is nothing more than self-control out of love for each other.” And what this poor person said is very true. These poor people maybe have nothing to eat, maybe they have not a home to live in, but they can still be great people when they are spiritually rich.
Those who are materially poor can be wonderful people. One evening we went out and picked up four people from the street. And one of them was in a most terrible condition. I told the Sisters: “You take care of the other three; I will take care of the one who looks worse.” So I did for her all that my love can do. I put her in bed, and there was a beautiful smile on her face. She took hold of my hand, and she said one thing only: “Thank you.” Then she died.
I could not help but examine my conscience before her. I asked, “What would I say if I were in her place?” And my answer was very simple. I would have tried to draw a little attention to myself. I would have said, “I am hungry, I am dying, I am cold, I am in pain,” or something like that. But she gave me much more—she gave me her grateful love. And she died with a smile on her face.
Then there was the man we picked up from the drain, half eaten by worms. And after we had brought him to the home, he only said, “I have lived like an animal in the street, but I am going to die as an angel, loved, and cared for.” Then, after we had removed all the worms from his body, all he said—with a big smile—was: “Sister, I am going home to God.” And he died. It was so wonderful to see the greatness of that man, who could speak like that without blaming anybody, without comparing anything. Like an angel—this is the greatness of people who are spiritually rich, even when they are materially poor.
We are not social workers. We may be doing social work in the eyes of some people, but we must be contemplatives in the heart of the world. For we must bring that presence of God into your family, for the family that prays together, stays together. There is so much hatred, so much misery, and we with our prayer, with our sacrifice, are beginning at home. Love begins at home, and it is not how much we do, but how much love we put into what we do.
If we are contemplatives in the heart of the world with all its problems, these problems can never discourage us. We must always remember what God tells us in the Scripture: Even if the mother could forget the child in her womb—something that is impossible, but even if she could forget—I will never forget you.
And so here I am talking to you. I want you to find the poor here, right in your home first. And begin love there. Bear the good news to your own people first. And find out about your next-door neighbors. Do you know who they are?
I had the most extraordinary experience of love of neighbor from a Hindu family. A gentleman came to our house and said, “Mother Teresa, there is a family who have not eaten for so long. Do something.” So I took some rice and went there immediately. And I saw the children, their eyes shining with hunger. (I don’t know if you have ever seen hunger, but I have seen it very often). And the mother of the family took the rice I gave her, and went out. When she came back, I asked her, “Where did you go? What did you do?” And she gave me a very simple answer: “They are hungry also.” What struck me was that she knew. And who were “they”? A Muslim family. And she knew. I didn’t bring any more rice that evening, because I wanted them—Hindus and Muslims—to enjoy the joy of sharing.
But there were those children, radiating joy, sharing the joy and peace with their mother because she had the love to give until it hurts. And you see this where love begins—at home in the family.
God will never forget us, and there is something you and I can always do. We can keep the joy of loving Jesus in our hearts, and share that joy with all we come in contact with. Let us make that one point—that no child will be unwanted, unloved, uncared for, or killed and thrown away. And give until it hurts—with a smile.
Because I talk so much of giving with as smile, once a professor from the United States asked me, “Are you married?” And I said, “Yes, and I find it sometimes very difficult to smile at my spouse—Jesus—because he can be very demanding—sometimes.” This is really something true. And there is where love comes in—when it is demanding, and yet we can give it with joy.
One of the most demanding things for me is traveling everywhere, and with publicity. I have said to Jesus that if I don’t go to heaven for anything else, I will be going to heaven for all the traveling with all the publicity, because it has purified me and sacrificed me and made me really ready to go to heaven.
If we remember that God loves us, and that we can love others as he loves us, then America can become a sign of peace for the world. From here, a sign of care for the weakest of the weak—the unborn child—must go out to the world. If you become a burning light of justice and peace in the world, then really you will be true to what the founders of this country stood for. God bless you.
I hope you will count it no presumption that I seek your leave to address you on behalf of the unborn child. Like that child I can be considered an outsider. I am not an American citizen. My parents were Albanian. I was born before the First World War in a part of what was not yet, and is no longer, Yugoslavia. In many senses I know what it is like to be without a country. I also know what is like to feel an adopted citizen of other lands. When I was still a young girl I traveled to India. I found my work among the poor and the sick of that nation, and I have lived there ever since.
Since 1950 I have worked with my many sisters from around the world as one of the Missionaries of Charity. Our congregation now has over four hundred foundations in more that one hundred countries, including the United States of America. We have almost five thousand sisters. We care for those who are often treated as outsiders in their own communities by their own neighbors—the starving, the crippled, the impoverished, and the diseased, from the old woman with a brain tumor in Calcutta to the young man with AIDS in New York City. A special focus of our care are mothers and their children. This includes mothers who feel pressured to sacrifice their unborn children by want, neglect, despair, and philosophies and government policies that promote the dehumanization of inconvenient human life. And it includes the children themselves, innocent and utterly defenseless, who are at the mercy of those who would deny their humanity. So, in a sense, my sisters and those we serve are all outsiders together. At the same time, we are supremely conscious of the common bonds of humanity that unite us and transcend national boundaries.
In another sense, no one in the world who prizes liberty and human rights can feel anything but a strong kinship with America. Yours is the one great nation in all of history that was founded on the precept of equal rights and respect for all humankind, for the poorest and weakest of us as well as the richest and strongest. As your Declaration of Independence put it, in words that have never lost their power to stir the heart: “We hold these truths to be self evident: that all men are created equal; that they are endowed by their creator with certain inalienable rights; that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness…” A nation founded on these principles holds a sacred trust: to stand as an example to the rest of the world, to climb ever higher in its practical realization of the ideals of human dignity, brotherhood, and mutual respect. Your constant efforts in fulfillment of that mission, far more that your size or your wealth or your military might, have made America an inspiration to all mankind.
It must be recognized that your model was never one of realized perfection, but of ceaseless aspiration. From the outset, for example, America denied the African slave his freedom and human dignity. But in time you righted that wrong, albeit at an incalculable cost in human suffering and loss of life. Your impetus has almost always been toward a fuller, more all embracing conception and assurance of the rights that your founding fathers recognized as inherent and God-given. Yours has ever been an inclusive, not an exclusive, society. And your steps, though they may have paused or faltered now and then, have been pointed in the right direction and have trod the right path. The task has not always been an easy one, and each new generation has faced its own challenges and temptations. But in a uniquely courageous and inspiring way, America has kept faith.
Yet there has been one infinitely tragic and destructive departure from those American ideals in recent memory. It was this Court’s own decision in Roe v. Wade (1973) to exclude the unborn child from the human family. You ruled that a mother, in consultation with her doctor, has broad discretion, guaranteed against infringement by the United States Constitution, to choose to destroy her unborn child. Your opinion stated that you did not need to “resolve the difficult question of when life begins.” That question is inescapable. If the right to life is an inherent and inalienable right, it must surely exist wherever life exists. No one can deny that the unborn child is a distinct being, that it is human, and that it is alive. It is unjust, therefore, to deprive the unborn child of its fundamental right to life on the basis of its age, size, or condition of dependency. It was a sad infidelity to America’s highest ideals when this Court said that it did not matter, or could not be determined, when the inalienable right to life began for a child in its mother’s womb.
America needs no words from me to see how your decision in Roe v. Wade has deformed a great nation. The so-called right to abortion has pitted mothers against their children and women against men. It has sown violence and discord at the heart of the most intimate human relationships. It has aggravated the derogation of the father’s role in an increasingly fatherless society. It has portrayed the greatest of gifts—a child—as a competitor, an intrusion, and an inconvenience. It has nominally accorded mothers unfettered domination over the independent lives of their physically dependent sons and daughters. And, in granting this unconscionable power, it has exposed many women to unjust and selfish demands from their husbands or other sexual partners.
Human rights are not a privilege conferred by government. They are every human being’s entitlement by virtue of his humanity. The right to life does not depend, and must not be declared to be contingent, on the pleasure of anyone else, not even a parent or a sovereign. The Constitutional Court of the Federal Republic of Germany recently ruled that “the unborn child is entitled to its rights to life independently of acceptance by its mother; this is an elementary and inalienable right that emanates from the dignity of the human being.” Americans may feel justly proud that Germany in 1993 was able to recognize the sanctity of human life. You must weep that your own government, at present, seems blind to this truth.
I have no new teaching for America. I seek only to recall you to faithfulness to what you once taught the world. Your nation was founded on the proposition—very old as a moral precept, but startling and innovative as a political insight—that human life is a gift of immeasurable worth, and that it deserves, always and everywhere, to be treated with the utmost dignity and respect. I urge the Court to take the opportunity presented by the petitions in these cases to consider the fundamental question of when human life begins and to declare without equivocation the inalienable rights which it possesses.
[Many of those in attendance rose to their feet and applauded; the President reached for a glass of water, while his wife, and the Vice President and his wife looked on stone-faced. The speaker at the National Prayer Breakfast conducted in February 1995 was Mother Teresa and she forthrightly spoke out in defense of the unborn and presented a simple message of love for the poor and oppressed. She raised an intriguing question: Is there a connection between the violence in America and the violence perpetrated in the abortion clinics of our country? Mother Teresa's speech did not receive much coverage in the press. Her message deserves to be publicized far and wide. In an effort to accomplish this goal, we present this account of her presentation.]
On the last day, Jesus will say to those at his right hand, “Come, enter the Kingdom; for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was sick and you visited me.” Then Jesus will turn to those his left hand and say: “Depart from me because I was hungry and you did not feed me, I was thirsty and you did not give me drink, I was sick and you did not visit me.” These will ask him, “When did we see you hungry, or thirsty, or sick, and did not come to your help?” And Jesus will answer them, “Whatever you neglected to do unto one of the least of these, you neglected to do unto me!”
As we have gathered here to pray together, I think it will be beautiful if we begin with a prayer that expresses very well what Jesus wants us to do for the least. St. Francis of Assisi understood very well these words of Jesus and his life is very well expressed by a prayer. And this prayer which we say every day after Holy Communion, always surprises me very much, because it is very fitting for each one of us. And I always wonder whether eight hundred years ago when St. Francis lived, they had the same difficulties that we have today. I think that some of you already have this prayer of peace, so we will pray it together.
Let us thank God for the opportunity He has given us today to have come hear to pray together. We have come here especially to pray for peace, joy and love. We are reminded that Jesus came to bring the good news to the poor. He had told us what that good news is when he said, “My peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you.” He came not to give the peace of the world, which is only that we don’t bother each other. He came to give the peace of heart which comes from loving—from doing good to others.
And God loved the world so much that He gave His son. God gave His son to the Virgin Mary, and what did she do with him? As soon as Jesus came into Mary’s life, immediately she went in haste to give that good news. And as she came into the house of her cousin, Elizabeth, Scripture tells us that the unborn child—the child in the womb of Elizabeth—leapt with joy. While still in the womb of Mary, Jesus brought peace to John the Baptist, who leapt with joy in the womb of Elizabeth.
And as if that were not enough—as if it were not enough that God the Son should become one of us and bring peace and joy while still in the womb, Jesus also died on the cross to shoe that greater love. He died for you and me, and for that leper and for that man dying of hunger and that naked person lying in the streets—not only of Calcutta, but of Africa, of everywhere. Out Sisters serve these poor people in 105 countries throughout the world. Jesus insisted that we love one another as he loves each one of us. Jesus gave his life to love us, and he tells us that we also have to give whatever it takes to do good to one another. And in the Gospel Jesus says very clearly, “Love as I have loved you.”
Jesus died on the cross because that is what it took for him to do good for us—to save us from our selfishness and sin. He gave up everything to do the Father’s will, to show us that we too must be willing to give everything to do God’s will, to love one another as he loves each of us. If we are not willing to give whatever it takes to do good for one another, sin is still in us. That is why we too must give to each other until it hurts.
It is not enough for us to say, “I love God.” But I also have to love my neighbor St. John says that you are a liar if you say you love God and you don’t love your neighbor. How can you love God and you don’t love your neighbor. How can you love God whom you do not see, if you do not love your neighbor whom you see, whom you touch, with whom you live? And so it is very important for us to realize that love, to be true, has to hurt. I must be willing to give whatever it takes not to harm other people and, in fact, to do good to them. This requires that I be willing to give until it hurts. Otherwise, there is no true love in me and I bring injustice, not peace, to those around me.
It hurt Jesus to love us. We have been created in his image for greater things, to love and to be loved. We must “put on Christ”, as Scripture tells us. And so we have been created to love as he loves us. Jesus makes himself the hungry one, the naked one, the homeless one, the unwanted one, and he says, “You did it to me.” On the last day he will say to those on his right, “whatever you did to the least of these, you did it to me,” and he will also say to those on his left, “whatever you neglected to do for the least of these, you neglected to do it for me.”
When he was dying on the cross, Jesus said, “I thirst.” Jesus is thirsting out love, and this is the thirst for everyone, poor and rich alike. We all thirst for the love of others, that they go out of their way to avoid harming us and to do good to us. This is the meaning of true love, to do good until it hurts.
I can never forget the experience I had in visiting a home where they kept all these old parents of sons and daughters who had just put them into an institution and, maybe, forgotten them. I saw that in that home these old people had everything: good food, comfortable place, television—everything. But everyone was looking toward the door. And I did not see a single one with a smile on his face.
I turned to Sister and I asked, “Why do these people, who have every comfort here—why are they all looking toward the door? Why are they not smiling?” (I am so used to seeing the smiles on our people. Even the dying ones smile.) And Sister said, “This is the way it is, nearly every day. They are expecting—they are hoping—that a son or daughter will come to visit them. They are hurt because they are forgotten.”
See, this neglect to love brings spiritual poverty. Maybe in out family we have somebody who is feeling lonely, who is feeling sick, who is feeling worried. Are we there? Are we willing to give until it hurts, in order to be with our families? Or do we put our own interests first? These are questions we must ask ourselves, especially as we begin this Year of the Family. We must remember that love begins at home, and we must also remember that “the future of humanity passes through the family.”
I was surprised in the West to see to see so many young boys and girls given to drugs. And I tried to find out why. Why is it like that, when those in the West have so many more things that those in the East? And the answer was, “Because there is no one in the family to receive them.” Our children depend on us for everything: their health, their nutrition, their security, their coming to know and love God. For all of this, they look to us with trust, hope and expectation. But often father and mother are so busy that they have no time for their children, or perhaps they are not even married, or have given up on their marriage. So the children got to the streets, and get involved in drugs, or other things. We are talking of love of the child, which is where love and peace must begin. These are the things that break peace.
But I feel that the greatest destroyer of peace today is abortion, because it is a war against the child—a direct killing of the innocent child—murder by the mother herself. And if we accept that a mother can kill even her own child, how can we tell other people not to kill one another? How do we persuade a woman not to have an abortion? As always, we must persuade her with love, and we remind ourselves that love means to be willing to give until it hurts. Jesus gave even his life to love us. So the mother who is thinking of abortion, should be helped to love—that is, to give until it hurts her plans, or her free time, to respect the life of her child. The father of that child, whoever he is, must also give until it hurts.
By abortion, the mother does not learn to love, but kills even her own child to solve her problems. And by abortion, the father is told that he does not have to take any responsibility at all for the child he has brought into the world. That father is likely to put other women into the same trouble. So abortion just leads to more abortion. Any country that accepts abortion is not teaching the people to love, but to use any violence to get what they want. That is why the greatest destroyer of love and peace is abortion.
Many people are very, very concerned with the children of India, with the children of Africa, where quite a few die of hunger, and so on. Many people are also concerned about all the violence in this great country of the United States. These concerns are very good. But often these same people are not concerned with the millions who are being killed by the deliberate decision of their own mothers. And this is what is the greatest destroyer of peace today: abortion, which brings people to such blindness.
And for this I appeal in India and I appeal everywhere: “Let us bring the child back.” The child is God’s gift to the family. Each child is created in the special image and likeness of God for greater things—to love and to be loved. In this Year of the Family we must bring the child back to the center of our care and concern. This is the only way that our world can survive, because out children are the only hope for the future. As other people are called to God, only their children can take their places.
But what does God say to us? He says, “Even if a mother could forget her child, I will not forget you. I have carved you in the palm of my hand.” We are carved in the palm of his hand; that unborn child has been carved in the hand of God from conception, and is called by God to love and to be loved, not only now in this life, but forever. God can never forget us.
I will tell you something beautiful. We are fighting abortion by adoption—by care of the mother and adoption for her baby. We have saved thousands of lives. We have sent word to the clinics, to the hospitals, and police stations: “Please don’t destroy the child; we will take the child.” So we always have someone tell the mothers in trouble: “Come, we will take care of you, we will get a home for your child.”
And we have a tremendous demand from couples who cannot have a child. But I never give a child to a couple who have done something not to have a child. Jesus said, “Anyone receives a child in my name, receives me.” By adopting a child, these couples receive Jesus, but by aborting a child, a couple refuses to receive Jesus.
Please don’t kill the child. I want the child. Please give me the child. I am willing to accept any child who would be aborted, and to give that child to a married couple who will love the child, and be loved by the child. From our children’s home in Calcutta alone, we have saved over 3000 children from abortions. These children have brought such love and joy to their adopting parents, and have grown up so full of love and joy!
I know that couples have to plan their family, and for that there is natural family planning. The way to plan the family is natural family planning, not contraception. In destroying the power of giving life, through contraception, a husband or wife is doing something to self. This turns attention to self, and so it destroys the gift of love in him or her. In loving, the husband and wife must turn the attention to each other, as happens in natural family planning, and not to self, as happens in contraception. Once that living love is destroyed by contraception, abortion follows very easily.
I also know that there are great problems in the world—that many spouses do not love each other enough to practice natural family planning. We cannot solve all the problems in the world, but let us never bring in the worst problem of all, and that is to destroy love. This is what happens when we tell people to practice contraception and abortion.
The poor are very good people. They can teach us so many beautiful things. Once one of them came to thank us for teaching her natural family planning, and said: “You people—who have practiced chastity—you are the best people to teach us natural family planning, because it is nothing more than self-control out of love for each other.” And what this poor person said is very true. These poor people maybe have nothing to eat, maybe they have not a home to live in, but they can still be great people when they are spiritually rich.
Those who are materially poor can be wonderful people. One evening we went out and picked up four people from the street. And one of them was in a most terrible condition. I told the Sisters: “You take care of the other three; I will take care of the one who looks worse.” So I did for her all that my love can do. I put her in bed, and there was a beautiful smile on her face. She took hold of my hand, and she said one thing only: “Thank you.” Then she died.
I could not help but examine my conscience before her. I asked, “What would I say if I were in her place?” And my answer was very simple. I would have tried to draw a little attention to myself. I would have said, “I am hungry, I am dying, I am cold, I am in pain,” or something like that. But she gave me much more—she gave me her grateful love. And she died with a smile on her face.
Then there was the man we picked up from the drain, half eaten by worms. And after we had brought him to the home, he only said, “I have lived like an animal in the street, but I am going to die as an angel, loved, and cared for.” Then, after we had removed all the worms from his body, all he said—with a big smile—was: “Sister, I am going home to God.” And he died. It was so wonderful to see the greatness of that man, who could speak like that without blaming anybody, without comparing anything. Like an angel—this is the greatness of people who are spiritually rich, even when they are materially poor.
We are not social workers. We may be doing social work in the eyes of some people, but we must be contemplatives in the heart of the world. For we must bring that presence of God into your family, for the family that prays together, stays together. There is so much hatred, so much misery, and we with our prayer, with our sacrifice, are beginning at home. Love begins at home, and it is not how much we do, but how much love we put into what we do.
If we are contemplatives in the heart of the world with all its problems, these problems can never discourage us. We must always remember what God tells us in the Scripture: Even if the mother could forget the child in her womb—something that is impossible, but even if she could forget—I will never forget you.
And so here I am talking to you. I want you to find the poor here, right in your home first. And begin love there. Bear the good news to your own people first. And find out about your next-door neighbors. Do you know who they are?
I had the most extraordinary experience of love of neighbor from a Hindu family. A gentleman came to our house and said, “Mother Teresa, there is a family who have not eaten for so long. Do something.” So I took some rice and went there immediately. And I saw the children, their eyes shining with hunger. (I don’t know if you have ever seen hunger, but I have seen it very often). And the mother of the family took the rice I gave her, and went out. When she came back, I asked her, “Where did you go? What did you do?” And she gave me a very simple answer: “They are hungry also.” What struck me was that she knew. And who were “they”? A Muslim family. And she knew. I didn’t bring any more rice that evening, because I wanted them—Hindus and Muslims—to enjoy the joy of sharing.
But there were those children, radiating joy, sharing the joy and peace with their mother because she had the love to give until it hurts. And you see this where love begins—at home in the family.
God will never forget us, and there is something you and I can always do. We can keep the joy of loving Jesus in our hearts, and share that joy with all we come in contact with. Let us make that one point—that no child will be unwanted, unloved, uncared for, or killed and thrown away. And give until it hurts—with a smile.
Because I talk so much of giving with as smile, once a professor from the United States asked me, “Are you married?” And I said, “Yes, and I find it sometimes very difficult to smile at my spouse—Jesus—because he can be very demanding—sometimes.” This is really something true. And there is where love comes in—when it is demanding, and yet we can give it with joy.
One of the most demanding things for me is traveling everywhere, and with publicity. I have said to Jesus that if I don’t go to heaven for anything else, I will be going to heaven for all the traveling with all the publicity, because it has purified me and sacrificed me and made me really ready to go to heaven.
If we remember that God loves us, and that we can love others as he loves us, then America can become a sign of peace for the world. From here, a sign of care for the weakest of the weak—the unborn child—must go out to the world. If you become a burning light of justice and peace in the world, then really you will be true to what the founders of this country stood for. God bless you.
11.01.2006
Grrrr.
Does anybody want to tell me why the current election discussion is dominated by Michael J. Fox and John Kerry?
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