The Common Good (And My Nephew, the Mayor)
Two weeks ago my nephew, John Hartman, was elected mayor of Churchville, NY, near Rochester. After serving as a trustee and then as deputy mayor for 8 years, John ran unopposed. Churchville is a small town. Population about 2,000. You might be asking: So what’s the big deal? Well, even small towns have some of the same issues as large cities: welfare of schools, trash disposal, safety and security issues, road maintenance, zoning issues, and planning for the future. John will be balancing his family and his business obligations along with his new duties as mayor.
And that’s what makes his election a big deal. John and myriads of people like him are investing a significant amount of their time and talent in some form of public service. Another way of saying this: They are assuming roles of leadership in serving the common good. So today I’d like to offer a few thoughts on the vital importance of the common good.
First, what do we mean by the common good? Here’s a simple definition: the common good is that which benefits all or most of the people in a society or group. One reason we have taxes, as we know, is to insure that all citizens contribute to those entities that benefit all—such as schools, roads, the military, health care, programs for the poor, to name a few. But sometimes, a major threat to the concept of the common good is the principle of individual rights. Balancing these two values can be challenging.
Historically, the spirit of individual rights has been strong in the United States. In our American lore we celebrate explorers like Daniel Boone who supposedly moved every time he could see the smoke of a neighboring chimney. We have idolized drifters and lonesome cowboys. We see this individualism reflected in popular slogans such as these: my home is my castle, good fences make good neighbors, I have my rights, and don’t tread on me. Some hot button issues in our own day—abortion and gun control, for example—can be viewed as conflicts between individual rights and the rights of others or the common good. It boils down to the individual right (to have an abortion or to own guns—even assault rifles) versus another’s right to life or the right to be safe in the community, whether at school, on the street, or in a place of worship. Lately, in some instances, the case for the 
common good seems to be losing.
Embedded within our Constitution is the “Bill of Rights.” Someone has asked, “Why don’t we also have a Bill of Responsibilities”? Good question. Why don’t we delineate those responsibilities we individuals have toward the common good, that is, toward our local community, our country, or the world community in which we live?
I think there is evidence that reverence for the common good is eroding. We build palatial individual homes in our rural areas while our nearby cities decay. We drive our luxury cars on roads and over bridges that are deteriorating beneath our tires. We complain about money needed to update sewer systems or power grids. We get nervous whenever we hear the phrase “government regulation,” seeing it as an infringement on our right to amass unlimited individual or corporate wealth. We vote against levies for schools, libraries, fire departments, mental health services. We cut funds to the arts and environmental projects. And we run up a national debt that threatens to enslave our children and grandchildren for decades to come.
I know, I have painted a pretty grim picture. Let me add that throughout our history in this country (and in other countries as well) we still have concrete symbols of the promotion of the common good: museums, hospitals, libraries, universities, zoos, courthouses, city halls, police and fire stations, Rotary Clubs, garden clubs, the Scouts and 4-H, food banks, community centers, homeless shelters, women’s shelters, and our magnificent local, state, and national parks.
Reflecting on our investment in the common good is a good Lenten practice. Lent is a time we remember God’s investment in our common good: the person of Jesus. We recall Jesus’ core mandate to love one another. We remember his injunction to care for those in need in our midst, an injunction enshrined in Matthew 25. Today, let us ask ourselves:
How are you investing your time and talents in the common good?
Has Matthew 25 ever been a motivating force for you?
If you drew up a “Bill of Responsibilities,” what one or two responsibilities would you want to be sure to include?
Where do you see evidence of reverence for the common good in your local, state, national, or world community?
Today’s song is the melody that some of us know as “Tantum Ergo,” attributed to St. Thomas Aquinas. These words, I believe, were written by Fred Kaan in 1968. I have written out the 3 verses below the video:
For the healing of the nations, Lord, we pray with one accord.
For a just and equal sharing of the things that earth affords.
To a life of love and action help us rise and pledge our word.
Lead us now, Lord, into freedom, from despair your world release.
That redeemed from war and hatred, all may come and go in peace.
Show us how through care and goodness fear will died and hope increase.
You, Creator God, have written your great name on humankind,
For our growing in your likeness bring the life of Christ to mind.
That by our response and service earth its destiny may find.
Now it’s your turn. I invite you to serve the common good of our Sunflower community by offering a response below:
Excuses for All Occasions
Jesus told a parable about a certain man who prepared a huge banquet and invited a great many people to come and enjoy it. But right away, the excuses began to come in. Two of those excuses were immortalized in the old song, “I Cannot Come.” (Medical Missionary Sisters, 1965). Those two excuses were, “I have married a wife” and “I have bought me a cow.” (As very young sisters we used to sing, “I have bought me a wife… I have married a cow!” We thought we were clever!)
The man is understandably upset. He orders his servants to go and invite the poor, the crippled, the blind, and the lame. They do so, but there are still empty chairs in the banquet hall. So the man sends his servants out again to the “highways and hedgerows” for more people, and soon the banquet room is filled to capacity.
What about us? We readily receive invitations from Jesus under the umbrella invitation, “Come, follow me.” Often that means doing a “Jesus-like-thing” in some specific way. Some sample invitations are the following:
* be more patient with her
* speak more gently to him
* spend more time with your loved ones
* call your mother (or father, grandmother, grandfather, brother, sister, aunt, uncle, friend)
* forgive
* tell the truth
* send that donation to your struggling alma mater
* write that email to your congressman/woman
* give a hand with that parish project
* smile more
* slow down
* drive more graciously
* be kind to cashiers, store clerks, maintenance personnel
* let that person go ahead of you in line
* complain less
* thank a stranger
* get more involved in that vital issue of our day
* look at those flowers… that lake… those wispy clouds… those birds
* talk to me.
What excuses do we come up with to avoid these invitations, these urgings, these promptings of the Spirit? In case you can’t think of any, I have come up with a short list of 20 excuses to use for a wide variety of occasions. No need to fumble for an excuse any more. Just post these excuses on your desk, near your phone, or on your bathroom mirror. The next time you feel the Spirit inviting you to do something you don’t want to do, just say one of these:
- I’m too busy.
- I’m too tired.
- I’m too old (too young, too middle-aged)
- I’m no expert. Leave that to the professionals.
- Later. Not now.
- Ask someone else to do it.
- I’m not feeling very well.
- I have enough on my plate already.
- I’m too shy.
- It’s none of my business.
- I’m not good at that kind of thing. That’s not where my talents lie.
- I’ve never done anything like that before.
- I’m afraid.
- I’m learning to say “no.”
- I can’t hear you.
- Why me?
- Wait until I get my life in order first.
- That’s not my style of spirituality.
- How do I know this urging is even coming from Jesus?
- I don’t want to.
For reflection:
What excuses do you use the most to get out of doing certain things? How valid are they?
What excuse is the flimsiest. Why?
What excuse(s) would you add to this list?
PS: These past two weeks I’ve given two talks. On March 13 I spoke to some parishioners from Holy Spirit Church in Avon, OH. They came out to see our new Notre Dame Village on our provincial center property in Chardon. I enjoyed them very much! I want to thank Cynthia and Sr. Connie for taking care of the details. Then on March 21 I led a morning retreat for a group of women at St. Joan of Arc Parish in Chagrin Falls, OH. They too were an attentive and fun group to be with. Special thanks to Sr. Ann Marie and her committee for making the retreat run so smoothly! My next talk is April 10 at a luncheon for the Breath of Life group at St. Noel Parish in Willoughby Hills, OH. Then I’ll be flying to Florida to give a retreat in the St. Petersburg’s diocese on Saturday, April 27. Thank you for your prayers for these talks and retreats!
Below are two versions of the song I referred to earlier: “I Cannot Come.” The first uses visuals… the second shows the lyrics:
Here is the song with lyrics:
I’d like to invite you to respond to this reflection below… No excuses! (hee! hee!)
"Useless Beauty"
We Sisters of Notre Dame are divided into smaller groups that meet once a month to share faith together. Using scripture, other readings, music, and prayer, we try to share our faith more deeply with one other, often focusing on a certain theme. Last month’s theme was beauty.
I shared excerpts from an article I saved from the Notre Dame Magazine (August 2012). The article, by Scott Russell Sanders of Bloomington, Indiana, was entitled “Useless Beauty.” Some of the thoughts in this reflection are based on his beautiful article.
Sanders does not define beauty. He leaves that to philosophers. But he does describe many examples of beauty from the natural world. He concludes that some beauty is useful. In fact, some beauty seems specifically designed to increase the chances of survival for organisms or species. The peacock’s tail, for example, is attractive to mates. The zebra’s stripes confuse predators. The monarch butterfly’s bright orange, gold, and black wings, shout to predators: “I’m poison! Don’t eat me!” The blinking of fireflies, the courtship dance of sandhill cranes, and the chirps of spring peepers all can be a result of natural selection.
But what about useless beauty, that is, beauty that seems to have no purpose—except to be? Sanders gives a host of examples of useless beauty; for example, the pearly interior of the nautilus shell. No one sees this beauty—except the nautilus and a two-legged predator who now collects these shells and slices them in half, thus exposing their interior beauty for other two-legged animals to see—and hopefully buy!
The extravagance of useless beauty is seen in geodes. Inside these brownish-grayish lumps of sediment are orange agate, bands of purple amethyst, strands of pale blue chalcedony, and bursts of red jasper. Useless beauty is found in some beetles “bearing scrawls on their backs as jazzy as urban graffiti.” The color, scent, and shape of many flowers are designed to attract pollinators, yes. But aren’t some flowers much fancier than they need to be—fuchsia, bleeding hearts, wild columbine, the iris, to name a few?
And what about the useless beauty found in the nonliving world? What about sunrises and sunsets, the northern lights, the stars, the sea with its vast expanse and its steady drumming on the shore? What about clouds, waterfalls, glaciers, mountains, canyons? There is useless beauty everywhere!
What effect does beauty have on humans? Recall a recent experience of beauty that you had. How did it make you feel? Sanders uses these words to describe such an experience: enthralling, nourishing, invigorating, thrilling. If we are alone, we often find ourselves calling out to someone else to come and share the experience. We might find ourselves wanting to protect the source of this beauty for our children, grandchildren, and children yet to be born so they too may have the same experience of awe.
What does all this beauty reveal about the Creator? Says Sanders, “The Designer must be inordinately fond of beauty.” Anyone who believes this would view beauty as sacred and deserving of our care. Unfortunately, a utilitarian ethic is present in our world, an ethic that says nothing has value unless it is useful to humans. “What good is a wilderness if we can’t drill it for oil or mine it for minerals? What good is an ancient forest if it doesn’t yield board-feet of lumber? Why protect wild salmon if we can grow fish in concrete vats laced with chemicals?”
How then should we live in a world saturated with beauty? We must make time for beauty in our every day. We must rejoice in this beauty, give thanks for it, care for it, “and strive to add our own mite of beauty, with whatever power and talent we posses.”
For reflection:
Recall an experience of beauty that you had. How did it make you feel?
Do you make time for beauty in your every day? If so, how?
How are you adding your own “mite of beauty” in the world through your power or talent?
The song today is one I often use for retreats: “Creation Calls” by Brian Doerksen. (The second version has the lyrics.) This video celebrates the beauty and diversity of the planet we call home. After every viewing, I find myself asking, “What must God be like?”
With lyrics:
I welcome your responses to this reflection. Enrich us with your “mite of beauty” below…
“Useless Beauty”
We Sisters of Notre Dame are divided into smaller groups that meet once a month to share faith together. Using scripture, other readings, music, and prayer, we try to share our faith more deeply with one other, often focusing on a certain theme. Last month’s theme was beauty.
I shared excerpts from an article I saved from the Notre Dame Magazine (August 2012). The article, by Scott Russell Sanders of Bloomington, Indiana, was entitled “Useless Beauty.” Some of the thoughts in this reflection are based on his beautiful article.
Sanders does not define beauty. He leaves that to philosophers. But he does describe many examples of beauty from the natural world. He concludes that some beauty is useful. In fact, some beauty seems specifically designed to increase the chances of survival for organisms or species. The peacock’s tail, for example, is attractive to mates. The zebra’s stripes confuse predators. The monarch butterfly’s bright orange, gold, and black wings, shout to predators: “I’m poison! Don’t eat me!” The blinking of fireflies, the courtship dance of sandhill cranes, and the chirps of spring peepers all can be a result of natural selection.
But what about useless beauty, that is, beauty that seems to have no purpose—except to be? Sanders gives a host of examples of useless beauty; for example, the pearly interior of the nautilus shell. No one sees this beauty—except the nautilus and a two-legged predator who now collects these shells and slices them in half, thus exposing their interior beauty for other two-legged animals to see—and hopefully buy!
The extravagance of useless beauty is seen in geodes. Inside these brownish-grayish lumps of sediment are orange agate, bands of purple amethyst, strands of pale blue chalcedony, and bursts of red jasper. Useless beauty is found in some beetles “bearing scrawls on their backs as jazzy as urban graffiti.” The color, scent, and shape of many flowers are designed to attract pollinators, yes. But aren’t some flowers much fancier than they need to be—fuchsia, bleeding hearts, wild columbine, the iris, to name a few?
And what about the useless beauty found in the nonliving world? What about sunrises and sunsets, the northern lights, the stars, the sea with its vast expanse and its steady drumming on the shore? What about clouds, waterfalls, glaciers, mountains, canyons? There is useless beauty everywhere!
What effect does beauty have on humans? Recall a recent experience of beauty that you had. How did it make you feel? Sanders uses these words to describe such an experience: enthralling, nourishing, invigorating, thrilling. If we are alone, we often find ourselves calling out to someone else to come and share the experience. We might find ourselves wanting to protect the source of this beauty for our children, grandchildren, and children yet to be born so they too may have the same experience of awe.
What does all this beauty reveal about the Creator? Says Sanders, “The Designer must be inordinately fond of beauty.” Anyone who believes this would view beauty as sacred and deserving of our care. Unfortunately, a utilitarian ethic is present in our world, an ethic that says nothing has value unless it is useful to humans. “What good is a wilderness if we can’t drill it for oil or mine it for minerals? What good is an ancient forest if it doesn’t yield board-feet of lumber? Why protect wild salmon if we can grow fish in concrete vats laced with chemicals?”
How then should we live in a world saturated with beauty? We must make time for beauty in our every day. We must rejoice in this beauty, give thanks for it, care for it, “and strive to add our own mite of beauty, with whatever power and talent we posses.”
For reflection:
Recall an experience of beauty that you had. How did it make you feel?
Do you make time for beauty in your every day? If so, how?
How are you adding your own “mite of beauty” in the world through your power or talent?
The song today is one I often use for retreats: “Creation Calls” by Brian Doerksen. (The second version has the lyrics.) This video celebrates the beauty and diversity of the planet we call home. After every viewing, I find myself asking, “What must God be like?”
With lyrics:
I welcome your responses to this reflection. Enrich us with your “mite of beauty” below…
A Reflection on Sin and Evil
Lent is a good time to reflect on sin and evil. Some of what I write here is based on an article by Alice Camille one of my favorite writers. The article, entitled “Unoriginal Sin” appeared in the March 2019 issue of U.S. Catholic.
Evil is rampant in our world. Because we are basically people of good will (or we think we are), we label evil as monstrous. The people who propagate atrocities of all kinds, we think of as monsters. In this group we would include people like Stalin, Hitler, serial killers, terrorists, sexual predators, and individuals who shoot people in our work places, churches, and even schools.
The Jewish philosopher Hannah Arendt used to think of evil in those terms too. She, who escaped from 
Germany just before Hitler’s “Final Solution” was put into place, had thought that Hitler and the Nazis were “fiends of the first order.” But after the war, she attended the trial of Adolf Eichmann, one of the chief architects of the incarceration and destruction of Europe’s Jewish population. She learned that Eichmann was not a fiend or a monster, but a rather ordinary man, “a paper pusher” with ordinary ambitions.
What ambitions? Eichmann wanted to do well the task he was asked to do. He wanted to make a decent living, please his bosses, and further his career. (Sound familiar?) But here’s the terrifying part: Eichmann never considered the horrific consequences that his “good job” had on flesh and blood human beings. He never weighed the morality of his actions. He never wondered if it might be evil to imprison, starve, and exterminate millions of people simply because they belonged to a particular religious group. “Eichmann didn’t think at all,” says Camille. “He just followed orders and did his job.”
But massive evil demands massive complicity. Yes, fanatics such as Hitler conceived and promoted the horrors of the Holocaust. But Hitler’s “success” was due to millions of functionaries complicit with his crimes, functionaries who went to work day after day in offices, guard towers, and concentration camps. We also wonder: who were the individuals who designed the camps and crematoriums, the company that manufactured the poisonous gas, the railroad personnel who ran the trains? They all did their jobs well. But (if they were like Eichmann) they did their jobs without reflection. And there’s the crux: without reflection.
Says Camille: “Unreflective adherence to a group identity that requires us to jettison the workings of our conscience… is the very definition of sin.” Evil burrows into our hearts when we are “undisturbed by doubt,” when we dismiss new questions and new information, or when we presume that a particular terrible injustice is none of our business.
Jesus knew what it was like to be tempted by evil (Mt. 4:1-11). After fasting for 40 days in the desert, Jesus encountered the devil who offered him essentially three things: food, social power, and personal security. The devil never offers us something that looks evil. He never told Eichmann, “Murder 6 million Jews.” The devil’s message is “smoother and more familiar.” The devil tells us to “eat your supper, go to church, do your job, earn your promotion, and you will be fine, safe, and comfortable.”
We know how Jesus responded to the devil’s proposals. Jesus chose the bread from heaven over earthly bread; he chose yielding to divine authority over human authority; and he found his security only in God’s love and 
protection. In making these choices, Jesus chose “to dance with the Spirit of God rather than the spirit of self-Interest.” Camille concludes: “Dancing with the devil is more common than we think. Dancing with the Spirit requires deliberate, conscious, and ongoing determination.”
For reflection:
Is there anything in today’s blog that stands out for you? If so, what? Why?
Do you ever prefer to dance with the spirit of self-interest rather than the Spirit of God?
Do you have a “blind allegiance” to any group you belong to—whether it is family, friends, religious congregation, church, political party, state, country? Or do you regularly reflect on the group and appraise the values the group is espousing?
Do you reflect on the consequences of your daily choices—the food you buy, the food you eat, the entertainment you choose, the people you associate with, the way you use your time—and the impact these choices have on such things as those who are marginalized, the environment, the common good, or the large social issues of our day?
Reflecting on sin and evil is not easy. But the fact that you have persevered to this final paragraph is a hopeful sign. It shows that you are open to reflection, to possibly new questions and information, and to personal appraisal and discernment. And that is good! Very good!
This video is drone footage of Auschwitz today. There is background music, a few captions, but no narrative. I used this video on my blog several years ago. But it is so powerful, I’m using it again. As we “tour” Auschwitz, let us remember: 1.1 million people died at Auschwitz in the 4 1/2 years of its existence. And let us say, “Never again… Never again.” And pray for all who suffer the consequences of evil in our time.
I invite your comments below. Thank you.
