A Pope, A Wave, and Italian Beer

A Pope, A Wave, and Italian Beer

(John 13:34)

We bivouacked in front of a tan-camouflaged, armored, military Humvee parked on Philadelphia’s City Avenue. That’s a stand alone image right there -- an intimidating military icon in a tree-lined residential neighborhood, here to protect The Pope, an iconic symbol of world peace. 

Our family and friends positioned ourselves where the police officer thought that if anywhere this might be the place where Pope Francis would see Lindsay. Or at least see Lindsay's wheelchair.

The Pope tossed a wave from the rear window of the black Fiat as it floated by, the 25 MPH motorcade making its way by us as he left his overnight residence at the seminary. 

We had left our car in the neighborhood behind St. Charles Seminary and walked 2 miles along beautiful, tree shaded streets and past expensive suburban houses. I helped Lindsay from her chair so we could climb down the train station steps, we walked along through the tunnel under the tracks, and trudged back up the other side. We found an opening in the security cage and crossed to the city side of the invisible social/racial/economic/cultural divide this street can be.

After the wave, we left by another way. 

Around the southern edge of the seminary we walked up and down hill, on sidewalk and on grass path. Stopped at a traffic light coming out of the residential neighborhood where our car awaited us behind the gated seminary, a friendly man in shirt and tie opened his car window. “Were you trying to get into the seminary?”

The tightly–held security reins wouldn’t let us very close. “Well, we got to see him in his car as he came out,” I replied.

“He’ll be back at 9:30 tonight for dinner. Tomorrow morning he leaves by helicopter to visit the prison.”

“Oh, are you working at the seminary?”

“Yup. We’re making dinner for him tonight. Right now I’m headed out to get beer.” He shrugged a smile at Lindsay and me, “What can I say? The Italians want beer!”

The light turned green and off he went on his holy grail mission. One can only pray that he found some of Philadelphia’s craft beers rather than Italian beer. Wine maybe, but they don’t do beer so well.

Yet for me, there it was, the message of this weekend in that brief encounter. This was not just about a spotlighted Pope on a pedestal with a  message of justice and dialogue and compassion which challenged political progressives and conservatives alike, but it was also a room full of his entourage with sleeves rolled up, gathered at table, eating pasta … and drinking beer.

Pope pedestal aside, the Jesus message is still shared among faithful followers gathered at table, eating, drinking, laughing, praying, planning, discerning. With the security nets down, the pageantry reduced to a whimper, and the Pope safely in Rome, can we still live the table message that Jesus left us?

“I give you a new commandment,” Jesus said at that Last Meal – maybe of pasta and beer, but certainly of laughter and prayer. "I give you a new commandment, that you love one another.” (John 13:34) 

Can’t be more clear than that table message. Seems like that’s the heart of Pope Francis’ words and actions. I pray it’s at the heart of mine.

© Copyright 2015

James F. McIntire
All rights reserved.

I Sing the Life Eternal

Durham Cathedral, Durham, UK 2015

I Sing the Life Eternal   (John 6:56-58)        

 (with deference to Walt Whitman and Billy Joel)

I sing the life eternal,

Life before beginning

Life alive now,

Life continuing then,

Beyond all breathing

All beating

All believing

Of it.

I sing the life eternal,

Not of the “Body Electric”^†

As so the poet

Sings.

No,

I sing

Not of the beauty

Of the shell

Which holds me

Or the touch,

Or fascination,

infatuation,

Of the body

I live in,

As so our poet.

I sing of a moment

of knowing

That life

Begins

When I let it begin.

“The life eternal,”

says the One I Trust

with life itself.

“The life eternal,”

of which

I sing

“lives in you

In the consuming of

What keeps life in each

Body Electric.”

Yes,
"All things please the soul —
but these please the soul well." ^†

In the very sustaining of life

Is found

the life eternal.

“That which brings life,”

breathes the One I Believe,

“the bread, the wine, the love –  

in that

I Am,  

the life eternal.”

My life eternal

Begins

With a first breath

Or even before,

Promised the Believe-ed One.

In the breathing

of those who bore me

Who touched

This Body Electric

at its beginning

breath.

Or even before,

Nurtured in a womb,

Love keeping me

Afloat

Safe

Nourished

Sustaining my life

Without me knowing.

I sing the life eternal

Not a requiem

Composed for my grievers.

which I will never hear

But the soothing lull

Piercing my

Soul

Filling my womb

My cradle

My life.

Song sung

At the beginning,

Before and throughout,

All life in my living.

“I promised I would never leave you”

Sings another poet

“Someday we'll all be gone
But lullabyes go on and on...
They never die
That's how you
And I
Will be.”^††

So also

The Poet of Life

A promise

Of life going

On and on

Which never ends.

A remembering

Of love between

Words shared.

A remembering always.

A promise fulfilled.

Yes,

I sing the life eternal

Beginning  

Before

It’s beginning;

It ends

At never.

“Abide in me” –

I trust, I believe,

From beginning to

Never ending. –

“As I do in you.”

Now

Then

Eternally.

I sing the life eternal

Bread of the Living God

Abundant life,

Forever life

Sustained in me

Shared with you

Alive in us.

I sing the life eternal,

Life sung from beyond me,

Into my life,

From the Living One

Who lives beyond me

Who lives within me

Who lives beyond

All believing

Of it. ^†††

© Copyright 2015
James F. McIntire
All rights reserved.

^†Walt Whitman. “I Sing the Body Electric.” (1855)

^††Billy Joel. “Lullabye (Goodnight, My Angel).” (1993)

^†††John 6:56-58 (NRSV) – Jesus said “Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them. Just as the living God sent me, and I live because of God, so whoever eats me will live because of me. This is the bread that came down from heaven, not like that which your ancestors ate, and they died. But the one who eats this bread will live forever.”

Flirtgangelism

London pub, 2014

“So, you know, Bud Light isn’t really a beer, right?”

“Really?,” replied the server who had just shown me the beer list – bottles and drafts – and then told me $2 Bud Lights were the evening special.

“Nah, it’s basically just water.”

“Well, I guess that explains the ‘Light’ part. I don’t drink beer, so I wouldn’t know. Now hard liquor, I could tell you.”

It was the usual restaurant banter that my wife, Lydia, in one sentence claims is flirtation and in the next tells me it’s a wonderful gift that I have. Evangelism, basically – immediately engaging in a conversation with a stranger who I know nothing about simply because she is another of God’s children. 

Flirtangelism.

By the end of the night, I knew her name is Crystal, that she is 30, married for less than a year, and is now 7 weeks pregnant. The first child of an only child of an only child. Everyone is thrilled.

So she’s not drinking at all these days – not beer or hard liquor. I heard about her intolerable morning sickness and that she’s been told to keep saltines by the bedside so she can eat them before getting out of the bed as soon as she wakes up.

“During my pregnancies,” I slipped into the exchange, “Graham crackers helped.” She gave me that baffled look of confusion that often is the response to my random statements.

Pregnant, little, middle aged, white man – cognitive dissonance flashed across her face.

God is in these moments. Be they flirtations or evangelism or ramblings or profundity. God is in these moments because it is in each other’s faces and through our small interactions that we can today experience God. A beer in the bar, a baby in the belly; a smile, a word – God is there.

Will I ever see Crystal again? I told her I would stop by and check on how she’s getting along. The place is within walking distance of my house but I rarely go there. Will I check in on her?

Maybe. Maybe not. Yet, whatever, God is there.

In that small exchange this week, God was there. In each encounter we have with another person, we experience God who lives in our lives.

© Copyright 2015

James F. McIntire

All rights reserved.