Seeking Truth in a World of Sound Bites

Social media has fostered a world where communication is delivered in sound bites. Debates and discussions often consist of memorized statements, which oftentimes are not even factual. Deep philosophical conversations are a thing of the past. We listen to one another not to learn, but to respond. This reality was all too evident in an experience I recently had.

I heard a knock at my front door. I admit I usually do not answer if it is a solicitor, but when I looked through the glass, I could see a well-poised young woman standing on my porch. My guess is she was in her mid-twenties, smartly dressed and checking her iPad.

The young lady smiled and greeted me when I opened the door. I was impressed—she was polite and professional. I said hello and smiled. She noted she was from Planned Parenthood and was getting the word out about the organization and women’s reproductive rights, including abortion. She asked me if I was familiar with the group.

I smiled and told her I was and asked her if she could tell me a bit about the organization. She began to rattle off the familiar sound bites. I listened for a bit—but then stopped her when she hit the topic of abortion, asking, “Why would a woman need an abortion?” I intentionally placed emphasis on the word, need. She looked at me, a bit puzzled. After a few seconds, she continued with the familiar sound bites on how abortion was for women who were raped or in medical cases.

I smiled and repeated my question. I then asked if she could offer statistics on how many abortions were performed for cases of rape and give examples of medical needs for abortion.

She looked at me, not able to answer my question. After a few seconds of silence, she looked at me and said, “I can tell you are against abortion.”

I politely responded, “That is not why I am asking you the questions. I want to know what you know about Planned Parenthood. You came to my door to talk to me about women’s reproductive health issues and the organization. If you are going door-to-door to talk about Planned Parenthood and its services, your fervor and conviction should lead to you being able to answer my questions.”

She started to fumble with her iPad and turned to leave.

“Don’t leave,” I said. “I genuinely want to know what you know and believe. Since you cannot answer my questions, let me ask another. Do you know who founded Planned Parenthood?”

I received a deer in the headlights look as she shook her head ‘no.’ I continued, “Margaret Sanger was the founder of Planned Parenthood. She wrote on the topic of eugenics. Her writings on selective reproduction majorly influenced the leader of a European nation of her day. Do you know who that was? He was quite an admirer.”

At this point, she looked down, shook her head, and started to walk off the porch.

My final words as she left were, “If you want people to listen to what you have to say, you need to have a depth of knowledge and conviction. By the way, the European leader’s name was Adolf Hitler.”

She paused, looked back at me, and then continued down the sidewalk to the house next door.

A sense of sadness overwhelmed me. I was reminded of the Carmelite nun, St. Edith Stein, whose life was a constant search for Truth. She spoke openly of the role of women in the world, noting, “The nation does not simply need what we have. It needs what we are.” Edith Stein was martyred at Auschwitz for her Jewish roots. Her tenacity in search of indisputable Truth is an example for us today, who often settle for emotionally driven sound bites in lieu of the much deeper reality that is often difficult to accept but necessary for our well-being and happiness.

We need to spend time considering what we are—perhaps even more important as Christians—whose we are. Are we puppets repeating sound bites gleaned from social media fueled by corporate or political greed? Or do we take the deep dive in search of absolute Truth that not only defines us, but guides our steps and trajectory?

In the end, Truth does matter if we are to be a light and hope for others. We are all responsible for living with a conviction that proclaims the Truth, which ultimately leads to God. Our eternity depends on it.

A Matter of Focus

My husband and I went out to breakfast this morning. At the restaurant, there was a couple there with their young son. No more than two, this little one was obviously the apple of his parents’ eyes. He was intrigued by the waiter’s bejeweled face mask. He was curious as to the hustle and bustle at the drink station located by his highchair. His exuberance was a joy to behold. The older gentleman sitting near him happily told the young couple about his own newly born grandchild. The wait staff became more animated every time they passed the table. This little one lifted everyone’s spirits.

When we left the restaurant, there was joy in my heart, and it got me thinking.

Without saying a word—that little one captivated everyone he encountered. His awe and curiosity were enlivening. The love his parents showed for him (and each other) was uplifting. There was a palpable joy in everyone who was there. The world was ordered to happiness, in that moment of time and space, in that restaurant today.

It made me realize that what we focus on directly impacts our attitudes, thoughts, and interactions with each other.

We live in a world that is fixated on chaos, negatives, and hopelessness. Turn on the news, run through social media or pick up a newspaper and you will get hit with this reality. From the Pandemic to racial tensions, from politics to natural disasters, we are fed a continuous line of tragedy, upheaval, violence, and turmoil.

As human beings, however, God has wired us to seek beauty, joy, truth, and happiness. When our environment is in direct conflict with how we are wired, we will experience an inner-disconnect that wreaks havoc, both interiorly and exteriorly.

The little boy in the restaurant made me realize that what we focus on is truly what we see. In his world—everything was new and fresh. There was a bounce in his step and a curiosity that was enlivening. He was filled with joy and the world was his.

You may say—but he’s only two. He doesn’t have bills to pay. He isn’t confronted with the realities and hardships of life. And yes, that is true.

But there is another truth at work here. And it has to do with our choices to notice what we notice.

If I choose to focus on the negative, that is exactly what I will find. I will gravitate toward the chaos. I will seek the imperfections—in others and myself. And when I do, I will be swallowed up by the hopelessness that is consuming us individually and as a nation.

If, however, I choose to focus on the good and the beautiful, I will be drawn to it. I will see the little child. I will be lifted in spirit—just as I was by everyone in that restaurant. When I change my focus, I will see the world differently. That focus has the ability to unite—just as it did the people of all ages and races, in that moment in time, in that restaurant.

What we focus on in life is our choice. This does not mean we sweep problems under the rug or ignore issues that need to be addressed. But, if we seek the good in each other, if we seek what is beautiful and true, we will have peace in our hearts. We will be motivated by hope. Love and joy are the fruits of such focus, which builds unity—and isn’t that just what this world needs now?

A Time for Contemplation and Mercy

In these days of quarantine, we watch the television for the daily updates on the spread of the Corona virus. As we watch the death tolls rise and pray that the curve flattens, fear and anxiety take over. 

We miss seeing our families, the hugs and kisses of grandchildren. We mourn for the anticipated loss of family gathered around the Easter dinner table. We grieve that we will not gather for the grand liturgical celebrations. Relegated to a screen to watch and pray, the trappings of worship may seem flat. We long for the time when we can join together again. 

It seems to be all the more difficult as we enter into Holy Thursday, Good Friday, Holy Saturday and Easter.

But there is another thought that has been emerging in the silence of my prayer as I take notice of my longing for the crowds, the sights and smells of Liturgy, to receive the Eucharist, and the joys of family. It is a small voice, but I do admit it is getting louder, especially as we enter into the Upper Room, the Garden of Gethsemane, the prison, the Praetorium, Calvary Hill and ultimately, the Tomb.

What has come to me in this time of quarantine is this: Do I love all the trappings more or is my desire truly centered and focused on the love of my Savior?

Jesus walked alone. While His Disciples were gathered around the table and He prayed that they all may be one, their hearts were not unified. One betrayed Him. One denied Him. Most ran away and hid. Only the Beloved Disciple, Mary, His Mother, Mary Magdalene and a few other women stood in consolation and unity with Him in His suffering.

But what if this time of quarantine, rather than a time of mourning the loss of what was, was a time to listen to that small voice and ask ourselves, "Who or what is truly the focus of our life and love?"

Do we love the Lord of Life or are we caught up with the feelings and emotions of the crowds? Are we swept away with the liturgical music, decorations and robes, or are we consumed with the love of the One who walked the solitary path of His Passion, Death and Resurrection? Are we swept up in the busyness of life or are we content to sit solely in His Divine Presence?

What if this time of quarantine is a time of God’s Mercy? What if it is an opportunity to sit in the stillness and solitude of Jesus and reflect on what truly moves our hearts and actions? What if it is a chance to consider what we think is critically important in our lives and ask, “Does this lead me ever closer to Jesus or is it an obstacle to that relationship?” What if this is a time for us to take account of who or what we are truly in love with? What if it is a time to let go and be swept ever more deeply by the Holy Spirit into the love that flows between Father and Son?

Let us give thanks for this time of quarantine as a time of quiet reflection, stripped of the distractions that often cause us to lose focus. Jesus walked the path to Calvary alone, confident in the love of His Father. Let us walk with Him. Let us give Him our anxieties and fears, knowing that despite what looks like a hopeless end—the Cross and tomb and yes, even this time of quarantine—are doorways to New Life.

Let us look at this time of isolation as an opportunity to create a new normal, rich in mercy and love, forgiveness and peace as we grow ever closer to Jesus.

What’s in a Name?

My husband and I have season tickets to the Detroit Symphony Orchestra. Every time we attend a concert, a man is standing out near the parking deck playing his trumpet. Far from a professional, he plays a couple lines from a variety of songs as people pass on the way to Orchestra Hall. Rain or shine. Snow or sweltering heat. He is there. Every concert.

Except the last one.

As we walked past “his spot” I noticed his silent absence. Throughout the concert I couldn’t help but wonder what happened to him. Was he ill? What if he died? What if…

It was amid the questions that I realized I didn’t even know his name.

Sure, we had dropped money in his tattered trumpet case and smiled as we walked past, but I knew nothing about him. I never told him his presence brought a bit of joy to every concert. It made me sad to think that after all these years, I had never taken the time to know his name or thank him.

The concert ended and as we walked outside, I could hear the broken notes of his trumpet. I felt a sense gratitude for this second chance. I went up to him and asked his name.

“Frank” he replied. I told him how much I had appreciated seeing him. A smile spread across his face and he said, “Well thank you and may God bless you.”

It got me thinking. How many others in my day do I just pass by? How many go unnoticed? How often do I let people know how much I appreciate them?

Scriptures assure us that God knows us intimately. Even the hairs on our heads are numbered (Luke 12:7; Matthew 10:30). He calls us each by name (Isaiah 43:1). God assures us we are precious in His eyes and honored, and He loves us (Isaiah 43:4). Our God is a God of relationships. Created in the image and likeness of God, we are called to be in relationship not only with God—but with each other. To call each other by name.

What would happen if we kept our eyes open to those around us? To the mother struggling to push her shopping cart while holding a sleeping infant? To the elderly man trying to open a door while hanging on to his walker? To the homeless person we would rather avoid? To the tattooed young adult asking for directions at the gas station? To our spouse? To our parents? To our children?

I was met by a man outside the St. Therese Chapel who was asking for money to pay his phone bill. I was on my way to a meeting and really wanted to keep walking, but I thought of Frank. I turned. Facing him, he repeated his plea. I asked him his name. “David” he replied. “Not the king, just David.” He laughed. I joked that we are all sons and daughters of the king. We both laughed. I gave him a couple of dollars but also asked if he wanted prayers. He eagerly accepted. We both promised to pray for each other.

Jesus calls us His friend. David and Frank are the most recent reminders to me that we are called to take notice. To be aware of the people around us and to reach out as Jesus did in friendship. The beauty of all of this is that when we do, we will be blessed by the encounter in ways far greater than we can ever anticipate.