Inevitable Surrender

25 09 2016

This blog piece is about surrender.

This is where we are.

Flashback to the holiday season two years ago. In London, the Cardinal had invited me into his house. Over tea we discussed traditions of the Roman Catholic Church. We discussed multiple topics from health, behavior, relationships to one’s inherit need for conquest.

I still recall vividly the Cardinal’s questioning of humanity’s impulse to wage war.

“What makes us want to fight battles?,” he asked. “Why do we feel the need to prove ourselves? What are we fighting for??”

Missionaires

Missionaires

This was, of course, before the rise of Trump. The U.S. presidential campaign had yet to begin and I was on a solo mission to Europe for self discovery — fresh from a successful summer in Montana. I met the Cardinal at a ceremony in London’s Mayfair District with my good friend, Jim. Later, I went alone to his house in London’s outer zone, curious as to where the church in Europe stood on what I considered to be important, vital issues.

Question after question was met with ultimately one answer — surrendering to a higher power.

The Cardinal told me of his situation. How he was taken care of by both his job and his government. He was older and well into the entitlement stage of his career. He also shared of his personal battle with cancer. At some point in life one must recognize that to turn over control to another is essential, he told me.

“No one goes through life alone, John,” he said.

Surrendering to life’s circumstances is inevitable, the Cardinal told me.

“We all need someone or something to help us through. For some it’s the church for others the government. For most it is the family,” he said.

Two years later the Cardinal’s words ring in my ears as if I were still knocking on his door in that humble British neighborhood. I have reached a place of acceptance in my life. There are things I can change and things I cannot. This, after 40 years of searching, I know to be true.

Walking through poverty, suffering defeat and loss, climbing out of debt and learning to forgive have bolstered what were deficiencies in my character. I am stronger for experiencing hardships. Wiser to know they will come again and confident I can cope without panic.

Moving forward in the next 40 years, if I am lucky, I intend to put lessons I have learned to good use. For not one, but for all. Not to make myself feel better, but because it is the right thing to do. Surrender teaches us many things. Yes, we can control our own choices and ultimately are responsible for our own decisions but it takes two or more for an agreement to be reached.

A new chapter in American history will soon begin. Having experienced good times and bad, I am ready for whatever presents itself, knowing that I am not alone in this journey.

Strength, courage and wisdom shall prevail.

Looking through my photos and notes from that visit to London, I came across a quote from Catholic writer Thomas Merton which sums up my reflection point best.

“The more you try to avoid suffering, the more you suffer, because smaller and more insignificant things begin to torture you, in proportion to your fear of being hurt. The one who does the most to avoid suffering is, in the end, the one who suffers most.”

 

 





Tea With The Cardinal

21 03 2015
All Aboard

All Aboard

My Hammam experience was far from thought on the train ride back to London. I was preparing for my next important interview — with an Irish Catholic Cardinal. I met the Cardinal a week earlier during a World AIDS Day mass in London’s Mayfair District. I approached him after mass during an informal coffee and conversation session inside the fellowship hall of the Church of the Immaculate Conception Farm Street. I gave him my card and disclosed my Catholic hertiage and interest in the Church. Much to my surprise, he responded a few days later, via e-mail, requesting I visit with him at his home in southwest London.

I left Paris before the break of dawn. The Euro Star is worth every penny. It is fast and connects people swiftly under the English Channel on a daily basis. This particular car was full. The man sitting next to me was a French businessman who shared his copy of “The Spectator” Magazine. I found the content, while obviously conservative, quite interesting. He asked about America, I said the country appeared headed for a re-run of the 1992 election. I asked about France, specifically the rise of Marine Le Pen’s National Front. Ms. Le Pen was quite the talk back at the Paris hostel where I had camped out for the weekend. Many of the young ladies I polled in the kitchen one evening during dinner had rejected the notion that Ms. Le Pen was a feminist. I found this fasnicating as I did most of the Parisan culture.

The French businessman dismissed any assertion that Ms. Le Pen was not a woman. He seemed only interested in my thoughts on Jeb Bush and Hillary Clinton. I said an election between the two would be costly. After that we said nothing more on that subject. Once we arrived in London, he made a quick dash for the door, saying he was late for a business meeting. I was in no hurry, my appointment with the Cardinal was later in the afternoon, so I hung around the train station and took a few pictures. Much like Gare du Nord, London’s St. Pancras station is fascinatingly put together with a mix of modern conveniences built into old world architecture.

The Cardinal lived south of the River Thames. I got off the tube in Stockwell, directions in hand, and proceeded past an Irish corner pub and into a section of government housing projects. Once I arrived at the apartment, I noticed a sign on the front of the door which declared, “Sonny Does Not Live Here. Nor JD nor Taylor. Wrong Door!! No Sex No Drugs.” I found this quite interesting even though I was after neither, instead seeking simple counsel. Back in the south of Florida, I had begun writing about AIDS. The subject was challenging and broadened my journalistic abilities. It has traditionally been written about in the American media as a horror story and yet I was discovering more and more remarkable tales of bravery.

Cardinal Warning

Cardinal Warning

I was hoping the Cardinal could give me the United Kingdom’s perspective. I knocked on the door and Vincent invited me in.

“Come in, John, I’ve been expecting you,” he said. “The kettle is on.”

His apartment was full of books. It was small, humble and somewhat disheveled. I was there for almost three hours. Talking, sharing life stories. It was amazing. During our visit, a man and his apprentice came to check on the water line. Vincent was the building superintendent and the men needed direction. I said hello but nothing more. Once they left, I began my probe.

The Church, Disease, Power, Charity and, most important of all … Surrender.