Category: Life

I've Been Gone…

~ Fr. John Chagnon ~ 4 Comments

for a while and not of my own choice.

In the week before this my heart began thumping, not in the anxiety attack style but more like I had been running for days uphill. At times it would stop, then it would start again. Finally Sunday brought me to the doctor, embarrassed to think it was just about nerves, pride wounded a bit, and I was attached to an EKG. The doctor returned with a reasonably somber face and said “You need to get to the hospital immediately your heart is in atrial fibrilation.”

I arrived at the emergency room at United Hospital and they already knew I was coming. Shirt off. Vitals taken. Hooked up to a new EKG. Nurses and doctors in and out. Atrial fibrilation, apparently, gets you to the front of the line at ER. Then we waited. More people came in and out. My heart popped in and out of sinus (normal) rhythm. They were going to discharge me, then not.

Its an electrical thing with me. As I stayed in the hospital my heart was x-rayed, ultra-sounded, blood work was done, and no cause was found. I have a perfectly normal, undamaged heart except for the fact that the top part and the bottom part can’t seem to find a way to get into sync. Though it seems weird there’s no danger to it, apparently I can live the rest of my life with it and just make sure that my blood stays thin and I’ll be okay.

But it hasn’t stopped yet. The hope is that my heart will set itself back into a normal rhythm but to date it hasn’t. Medicine keeps it from going too fast, two aspirins keep the blood from clotting (the only real danger from prolonged a fib is that pooled blood in the atrium may develop clots) and when my heart rate was stabilized I was sent home.

So what now?

Well now is rest and now is staying at home to get my strength back. Exertion is a problem and stairs wipe me out. Work is out of the question this week and I have lots of time to think, ponder, pray, and watch westerns on TV. There are a lot of questions about what the future will bring. I don’t want to be an old man until its absolutely necessary.

Yet it happened, for no known reason but it still did. I’ve been amazed at how many people were praying for me, the people that stopped in, and by the love of my wife. I hope some day, by the grace of God, to be healed, to have a heart that returns to its normal rhythm but for now I’m like a bird trying out new wings, flapping them a bit more and more to see what happens. Stand up. Walk. Stretch a bit. Let’s see what my ticker can take. Eat like a rabbit and sleep whenever the urge is present.

I have no idea what will happen next. The doctors have told me that this is not life threatening, but it is life changing. I have no intention of cursing God and dying as Job was advised to do. I have a thorn in the flesh that I presume was allowed to help me draw close to God. In some ways I am more alive than when I went into the hospital.

So we’ll see. Everything, including my life, is in God’s hands. Just remember me in your prayers because if nothing else I want to make it to church this Sunday.

We Need Dozens of These…

~ Fr. John Chagnon ~ Leave a comment

homes as a way to put shoe leather on our pro-life commitments.  A new one, by the way, is being prepared in the Chicago area. Minneapolis – St. Paul next? That would be a very positive step.

A Funeral Message…

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The details of her life will come later, later in this service, later in the days and months ahead when you pause and think of her. It’ll be something you hear. Something you see. A quiet wind when you stand alone that brings back a memory.  Any, all, or more of will bring Ruth and the stories her life created back to you. Cherish them, even if they are sometimes sad. They are the echoes of a life, the sweet pain of a love whose object, for now, has been taken away. In this way she lives with everyone who remembers.

But even for the most famous among us that’s temporary. Some people have been adored by millions while they lived but still managed to, for the most part, fade away as time moved on after their passing. In time, sadly, most of us will be forgotten. Out of sight, out of mind, the stories of our life passing away as those who remember also pass. People always seem to want whatever is new and death quickly becomes old news.

In my Eastern Orthodox Christian tradition we observe the passing of the ones we love with “May their memory be eternal.” Yet how can this be? Even with the greatest exertions of human memory we all will fade from history as our bodies fade into the earth from which we were created.

Some people, rich people, powerful people, notorious people seek to solve this by building great monuments to themselves. The world is filled with objects where great amounts of time, labor, and riches were expended simply to tell history “I was here, I was here”.  Mostly such things end up being as silent as their builders, a thing standing alone while the rest of the world goes by.

No, when the people in my parish say “May their memory be eternal” they are talking about the only One with the capability of perpetual reminiscence, God. We wish that those who are departed from us will always be alive and present with God so that even if our frail minds lose track of whom they are, what they are, still everything holy, good, and right about them, and they themselves, will be secure with God.

You see God cares very little about buildings bearing our names, works of art with our signature, how people addressed us, how bright our star was shining when we lived. All of that is temporary, a gift at best, often a hindrance in our pursuit of what really matters, and always eclipsed by the light, the brightness, the glory of eternity and eternity’s God.

Rather its faith, kindness, love, humility, generosity, caring, purity, the things that are the best of our humanity and the closest we humans can draw in likeness to God that endure. An act of true charity matters more than a whole wing of a university with our name on it. A cup of cold water, Jesus tells us, given to a thirsty soul in his name lives on in heaven. A heart that stores its treasure above is a heart that has wisely deposited it’s riches safely and forever.

Life is short, even if you live to a hundred it’s just a blip in eons of existence. We’re reminded about that now as we come to remember and celebrate Ruth. Mother, grandmother, wife, friend, possessed of such a sweet smile and a haven for animals without a home. These are all sweet things, things worth remembering, worth emulating. They are, like all the higher and better things, a memory, a reality that exists well beyond these short lives of ours because they, and the people who have given themselves to them, are in the hands of the Almighty. 

What really matters? Jesus tells us it’s not the whims, the urges, the emotions of a moment, the gifts, the goodies, the titles, or where our office ends up. All of that and more, and each of us, can and will be replaced. As the old cross stitch on the wall says “Only one life will soon be passed. Only what’s done for Christ will last.”

Remember that as you gather here. Remember things eternal. Live as if this is your last day because one day you’ll be right. If your dear Ruth has given you any good advice, pointed you in any good direction, called to mind those things that matter and last, demonstrated her faith, or lived any good example, celebrate her life by following.

Someday, our Christian tradition tells us, all these things, the meaningless things, the things that make us sad, everything that batters us as we make our way through, even death itself, will be overcome through Jesus Christ. This death, this moment, what we are going through is calls not just the stories of a life lived and the sadness of a passing to us, but also that hope. Direct your lives towards that day and all will be well even as all is well for the lady from Indiana whose memory is now eternal in the presence of God.

 

Hymn from My Childhood…

~ Fr. John Chagnon ~ 1 Comment

Jesus! I am resting, resting
In the joy of what Thou art;
I am finding out the greatness
Of Thy loving heart.

Thou hast bid me gaze upon Thee,
And Thy beauty fills my soul,
For, by Thy transforming power,
Thou hast made me whole.

Oh, how great Thy loving kindness,
Vaster, broader than the sea:
Oh, how marvelous Thy goodness,
Lavished all on me!

Yes, I rest in Thee, Beloved,
Know what wealth of grace is Thine,
Know Thy certainty of promise,
And have made it mine.

Simply trusting Thee, Lord Jesus,
I behold Thee as Thou art,
And Thy love, so pure, so changeless,
Satisfies my heart,

Satisfies its deepest longings,
Meets, supplies its every need,
Compasseth me round with blessings,
Thine is love indeed.

Ever lift Thy face upon me,
As I work and wait for Thee;
Resting ‘neath Thy smile, Lord Jesus,
Earth’s dark shadows flee.

Brightness of my Father’s glory,
Sunshine of my Father’s face,
Keep me ever trusting, resting,
Fill me with Thy grace.

source: http://www.lyricsondemand.com/

Please Understand…

~ Fr. John Chagnon ~ 1 Comment

that a hundred years from now you will be a skull, a plaything for archaeologists along with whatever else may be left. No one will remember you and even if somehow you became extraordinarily famous in life virtually no one will think about you. Your home, if it still exists, will belong to someone else. So will all your money. At best someone may have a picture. Your job? Forget about it. Your soul will remain but basically nothing else.

Now that you know this you can either fall into despair or be more free than you’ve ever been in your life.

After the show…

~ Fr. John Chagnon ~ 1 Comment

they call your name. Once, twice, three times and you’re done. Somebody else takes your place.

Outside the wind is cold. The band moves out into the night. The audience heads in from the cold after a last cigarette. It’s not much. A cot and a few feet of space. No privacy really. If someone snores everyone knows. The chapel where the show had been turns into a large bedroom faster than the band can get its gear into the parking lot.

But its warm and tonight the wind is cold. They say its going to get below zero and they call your name, once, twice, three times. If you don’t respond you lose your place. There’s always another person without a place to go, another body in need of a bed. Jesus said that the poor would always be with us and this mission never closes, never has to post a “vacancy” sign, never runs short of lost men needing to be found.

In the end there were five left and three spaces. The names were placed in a bucket and two were left out in the cold. There was nothing that could be done. There are thousands of fancy hotel beds but only a few places for the men with long hair who live in the alleys during the day and sleep in missions during the night.

Right now I’m home. The show is over. My gear is all safely inside. I’ll be in bed shortly. Somewhere out there are two men and probably more, the ones whose names weren’t picked, trying to find a place to keep alive as the wind rolls in from the northwest and the temperature sinks.

Lord have mercy.

 

Lublin…

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There is an Orthodox Church in Lublin, Wisconsin, population a lot less than five hundred, and its been there for over a century. A small building, but well maintained, with a cemetery next to it (how can I get a spot?) and a parsonage with a church hall in the basement. You can see it in this blog’s header.

And its beautiful, not just for the way its been kept up over the years but also because of the kind of people who will to keep such a parish going in an out-of-the-way place. Inside and out there is a serene beauty, simple not fancy yet real to the perceptive.

People think, sometimes, that the best Orthodox churches are the ones with magnificent buildings, six figure plus budgets, and every possible group or service to be desired. Perhaps. Yet I think there’s something wonderful about a small group of people who, given opportunities to close the doors or move on to so-called bigger and better things, believe enough in their faith and their place to stay.

Year after year they dust and clean and mow the lawn and give what they can to have a traveling Priest visit every so often. There’s really no one to pass the responsibilities off on. The choir director, unpaid, finally retired at 85, and some of the men come early on Sunday morning to open up the church and get the heat going. When God calls you home you don’t have to travel far, just across the driveway to the grassy field with the three bar crosses.

I’ve preached before hundreds, really, but Holy Assumption Church in Lublin, Wisconsin, at the edge of the forest and miles from the main road has stuck with me somehow. There is something there or perhaps something that it evoked in me that was deep and special and holy.

I may never get back there again. They may not last much longer but I hope they do. There would be a distinct hole in the world where they used to be. We need little churches with their faith, their love, their constancy over time and the will to be a parish even if worldly “success” passes them by. We need little churches out in the country to stand sentinel over their towns. We need to keep a humble simplicity in our collective lives, a simplicity more beautiful than any gold fixture. There’s a world of lessons in places like Holy Assumption for all of us and if such places pass away we’ll be the less.

There’s more to write, but now this is enough. Until then my mind is still looking east, past the altar, through the stained glass, and somewhere beyond the woods in Lublin.