Bully

It started with a death, as these things often do. A quiet, shy young man committed suicide following harassment from a schoolmate. It was not the first such nor the worst, Yet it has led to too-little-too-late endeavors to keep it from happening again.
One of the biggest issues today in different sectors of society is bullying. In schools, in work,  even in some religious groups, anti-bullying is taken seriously and programs to prevent it or deal with it when it happens are increasingly common.
As a former victim of bullies when I was a boy in school, I can appreciate the sentiment to protect the people in this world who can't or won't fight back. In my case, it had a lasting effect on the way I live my life. But I suspect that, as is so often the case, deeper issues are not being talked about.
When I came home crying after some bully had verbally or physically attacked me, I was admonished to be a Man! Never mind that the bullies were bigger, stronger and more in number, the proper response was supposed to be: fight back! (I got too many lickings by trying.) So I learned that the proper response to a problem was violence, aggression. (Note: Aggression is not the same as Assertion!) And when I chose to find another, gentler way to deal with my problems, my opponents chose to stigmatize this as weak and unacceptable. Never mind that it plays a major role in my faith, they still could not accept the alternative of vulnerability. Ironically, these are the same people who claim to be Christian!
But there is still another issue here: too often the quiet young man who is the victim of bullies is seen as being gay (sometimes rightly so, sometimes not). And there are authority figures even today who defend bullying as merited as a way to deal with homosexuality. We will not go into the psychological issues of why a person secure in their own sexuality would find it necessary to fight off someone else's. The fact is that some today still follow that old mantra: be a Man!

Where?

One of the characteristics of my Celtic ancestors was a strong sense of place! As a tour guide back in Scotland once told me, "Yes, we know some of our stories didn't happen, but at least we know where they didn't happen!"
Unlike most of modern society today with the obsession on time (when did it happen? how long until until it will happen? how long did it last when it happened?), the peoples of the Celts were more concerned with where. They had a certainty that such-and-such a location was actually and obviously fuller of the presence of the divine than another location. They called them "thin" places, for there the veil between the everyday and the numinous was less substantial, "thinner."
Today we have few spaces that we recognize as sacred. Such need not be overtly religious or spiritual (although they may well be), but they still are places we feel closer to the divine. And if we select individually a place (even if only in memory) that we knew we were walking on holy ground, then there is our very own "thin" place.
So why are we in such a rush to commercialize, pave over, homogenize the world around us? Why do we need another building that will only be torn down to build another building?
The first time I walked on the isle of Iona, I knew that this little island off the west coast of Scotland was special, and it gives me, even at this great distance, a sense of grounding. Do you have someplace that does that for you? A  place you can return to, even if only in memory, that lets you know the divine is in that place?
So rather than rushing from place to place worrying that you might not be in time, pause and consider where you are rushing to. Because when we arrive where we were supposed to be, we will know it, and never leave.

How to Help

Another heart-rending request came in today. Because I am on so many referral sites on-line, I get phone calls or e-mails all the time, and sometimes I can help. Aaaand sometimes not. (There ain't that many therapists providing out-patient mental health for low- or no-income clients, folks!) Since I am not eligible for Medicare or Medicaid, I offer a sliding-scale fee, but even there many can't afford the minimum on that scale.
So, occasionally, I do therapy pro bono, which means I don't charge at all. Uh, very occasionally! But there are those I wish I could help, and just can't afford to.
I went into this line of work so I could be there for people at their point of greatest need. And I learned very quickly that, besides those whom I am just not capable of helping, there are those whose need is so great, or those who don't really want to be helped, as well as those who very problem prevents them from accepting the help they need (like a question preventing its own answer)!
So when this woman writes for help for someone who has been refused disability, has no income, can't drive, my human response is I want to help! Then I take a step back, calm my breathing, and know that (1)this person has more needs  than I could handle, (2) the cost would be too much, (3) it was the friend who contacted me, and that disabled person needs to be the one to show enough commitment to call me himself.
Okay, okay, I come across as callous, even to me. And the money should not be that big a deal. Although, in our society today, we tend to measure worth by cost: anything that's free is worth every penny!
But then the bigger picture hits me: why is the need for mental health coverage so lousy for those who have only Medicare or Medicaid, or even nothing at all? Those much-maligned street people wandering downtown, carrying on conversations with themselves, are there because they are given vestigial care consisting of fifteen minutes every couple of months to renew their prescription for meds they may or may not be taking.
No, I have no answers to that question, either. I do my little best, but sometimes I feel as though I were trying to bail out the ocean with a teaspoon.
Maybe we are looking at a tectonic shift in perception of people in need. Excuse me while I give a cynical scoff.

Love and death

Would you die for someone you love?
Yes of course, that is the whole point of Jesus' death on the Cross, to show how much God loves us. And I would hope that most parents would make such a sacrifice to rescue their child. But on a more general scale, how many of us would do something that radical for the sake of love? Would you, or you, or even, yes, you, die just a little for another?
We seem to have fewer hesitations when it comes to violent reprisal upon someone who hurts the ones we love. When those gentlemen (ahem) broke in and slaughtered the Pettit family, the general consensus, lead by the good Doctor Pettit , was: string 'em up! I will not get distracted by the whole  debate over capital punishment(although here's a hint: I'm agin it), but stay on message. Are we willing to love anyone so much that we are willing even to go the last step for them?
It might seem, on first blush, as though love and death would be polar opposites. Again, scripture tells us that love conquers death. But too often we get them enmeshed. So many fear love because they fear the potential of loss, of giving up some part of ourselves however large or small, important or unimportant,that will have to be let go.
Wait, that last part seems backward: are those who fear love because they fear loss really afraid of losing the one they love- or losing something of themselves? Do they resist conceding any part of themselves even in the face of gaining something that might make them more complete than before?
There are many ways that we can let go for the sake of another. It could be something as minor as what movie you both go to, or what to have for dinner. Or it could be something like where you will live, or where you will work, or how many children you have (if any).
For some, giving in on even small things is dying a little. For some, he (usually he) will continue to live the same way regardless of another person's  needs and preferences. Maybe these people's self-esteem is so fragile that even a small shift seems life-threatening.
Of course, there are those at the other end of the spectrum. For her (usually her), any sort of personal need is readily discarded in a (vain) attempt to keep the other happy. And it is catastrophic when it turns out that Humpty-Dumpty cannot be put together again for the hundredth time, no matter what concessions are made.
The alternative is to stop trying to die for love. When we are able to realize that such measures aren't necessary for others to know our love, and for them to love us, then we can go on from there. We can live for love.