Saint Damien

Untouchable

He was once described as a “coarse, dirty man, headstrong and bigoted.” 

Aside from being bigoted, this introduction is a fair description of what Father Damien was. Separated from the rest of society, Father Damien spent his best years with those stricken with leprosy. While being considered coarse and dirty is far from the holy attributes that one would expect from a soon to be canonized Saint, that is just what he is.

Father Damien asked to go to Kalawao in 1873 in order to serve and comfort the six hundred leprosy sufferers at the isolated settlement on the island of Molokai. Newly arrived, full of vigor and health, the young priest took to his duties without the slightest hesitation while caring for people who most refused to acknowledge. Isolated from the rest of the population, these lepers were sent to Kalawao not to live but to die.

What was so remarkable about Father Damien was not his extraordinary ability as a preacher, for his words were simple and to the point. Nor was it his plain and rugged carpentry skills that he used to build much of the infrastructure from churches to residences. The most remarkable aspect about this man was his heart. 

Father Damien can be best summarized by one of his biographers, Gavin Dawes who remarked, “He was no savant, no sophisticate, after all: just an earnest peasant hard at work in his own way for God.” With very few personal belongings or possessions, Father Damien took to God’s work with mostly a tool belt, bible and the clothes on his back. He asked for nothing in return but for the help towards his mission and the dignity of the people he had served. Although he died a peasant and a leper, this year we honor him as our newest Saint.

Last month as I stood before the grave site which once housed his body, I shook my head in disbelief at how such a person with such a common upbringing could take on a task with complete disregard for his own health and welfare and do uncommon things for people who had written off by the rest of the world. Today, his works still have meaning and are a great reminder to us that we can reach out and help strangers, comfort those less fortunate without an individual purpose other than to do God’s work. 

As a Hawaiian prayer was being sung in the background by a group that will be going to the Vatican this fall, I thought to myself "remember this Josh: FEEL THIS." At that moment, it was just where I needed to be. I couldn't think of a better example of self sacrifice than the grave site before me.

Like Saint Theresa, Father Damien lived with a kind of humility that makes me feel like the most selfish human being on the planet. He lived and worked each day caring for the sickest people in the world, with the knowledge that he would never leave that island. Indeed, Father Damien would not leave Kalawao. He died of the very disease that he had worked so hard to stop. When asked if he wanted to be cured he replied no and instead saw leprosy as only shortening his road to heaven.

Up close Father Damien was not the saintly figure that we read about growing up. He was tough, impatient and came across as demanding, uncompromising and rude to outsiders. It has been said that “saints look better at a distance.” Although there may be some truth behind that statement, Father Damien is one that you want to get see up close. He is a figure whose heart and soul you want to touch. He is a man whose story only gets better and more intense as you begin to peel back the layers and investigate the man who gave all of himself for strangers. In fact, the more you know about Father Damien the more of his spirit will begin to be revealed. He helped those that were deemed "untouchable," and through his extraordinary strength this is exactly how I think he ought to be remembered.

A Phone Call Away

I debated whether to pick up the phone and call the people who were on my mind. I do that from time to time. I’ll pick up my phone, scroll through a list of names only to put it back down and resume my daily routines. This time was different though. As I came across her name in my phone, emotions poured out of me as I just stared at what once was. The feeling stayed with me for several minutes as reality sunk in. I couldn’t escape the emotions that consumed me as I struggled to move on to the next contact. Instead, I just stared at her name realizing that I would never have the opportunity to call that number again.

On May 20th, 2009 I lost a friend and comrade to an IED outside of Kabul Afghanistan. For the next several days I couldn’t shake the thought of her from my mind. Memorial Day brought new meaning this year and was another reminder of the connection that she will forever be associated with. Selfishly, I tried to think of every memory of her that I could as a way to remember how much she had meant to me and those around her. As I went through the rolodex of great memories, I could only dwell on the ones that I had missed. I thought about how I never sent her a care package or thought about her much while she was on her deployment. I thought about the times when I came up with excuses every time she had asked me to play tennis. I thought about our broken plans. I thought about the times when I scrolled past her name in my phone and never bothered to make that call. Indeed, the void memories that I didn’t have but “could have” had with her will haunt me for the rest of my life. I am overwhelmed by guilt and regret.

It’s amazing the simplicity of a phone call. Anyone can pick up a phone and touch a few buttons and in an instant get a hold of someone thousands of miles away. Today, we have resorted to less conventional and less personal methods such as email and the like. We pass up on the chance to talk to longtime friends thinking that they will always be there and that their number will never go away. Well…I’ve seen a number go away. Although her name and legacy will never escape my thoughts and prayers, I know I can never go back in time and make the calls that once seemed so easy to make. How ungrateful I was. How many times had I seen a number and blocked it? How many times had I allowed a call to go to voicemail and how many missed calls had I not returned?

How many calls had I not made?

I have a tendency to talk myself out of things. In fact, I’ve actually been quite adept at it. If I’m tired, I know exactly what cards to play to convince myself that I don’t have the energy to do something. When I’m scared about trying something new, I insert streams of my distorted logic to justify my fear. And when I’m thinking about calling back home to friends and family I’ll think more about the time difference and how busy the person on the other end is than about how much I’d really like to catch up.

And so the death of my friend has awakened me to a new appreciation for life. Instead of trying to get out of things, I’ve decided to take chances and simply say “yes,” when otherwise I would have said “no.” Next week my schedule is filled with plans that will encompass new adventures, perhaps some uncomfortable moments but nonetheless experiences that I wouldn’t have had if I hadn’t picked up my phone and reached out.

I picked up my phone today and called one of my best friends. As the phone rang I was nervous since I had not spoken to him in a while. With each ring I wondered if he’d pick up and for a moment, almost wished that it had just gone to voicemail. I was unsure what to say and thought of reasons for this impromptu and perhaps random phone call. I knew that by today’s standards calling a distant friend out of the blue just “because” is more unusual than it is common. After several rings, he picked up the phone and I heard his voice…I let out a sigh of relief. It didn’t seem to matter what we talked about, I was simply glad that I had not passed up on the moment. After almost not making that call, I can honestly say it was the best five minutes that I’ve spent all week. It didn’t take courage or wisdom. It just took a little bit of initiative and two people picking up their phones. I had almost lost sight of what is truly important in life.

I'm damn glad that I made that call today.

Amazing Grace

As millions of people around the globe tuned in to witness the Presidential inauguration, many of them also watched with confusion as President Obama reached out his arm and instead of doing a traditional wave, stuck his pinky finger and thumb out to greet the crowd. Newscasters scrambled to figure out the meaning of this sign and what its purpose was. Meanwhile, Hawaiians back on the islands smiled as if the motion had been a secret handshake that nobody else was privy to. Deep down, Hawaiians understood the message that the President was sending; he was from Hawaii.

Ordinarily, the “shaka” is not a symbol that one gives much thought to. It merely means, aloha to those of us who reside in Hawaii. To the President, it too was probably unrehearsed but its impact on Hawaii could not have been better calculated. More than ever, the State of Hawaii felt a tremendous amount of pride as they saw a “local boy” reach the highest public office in the land. In a sense, many of them felt as though they too had made it.

The “shaka” moment should not over analyzed. It didn’t mean that he had won over those voters who disapproved of him back in Hawaii. It didn’t mean that he was going to appear at all public events in a showering of leis (which is customary) and it certainly didn’t mean that he was going to shape his policies around his home state. Essentially, what it represented was that he knew what the “shaka” meant and what it meant to the people of Hawaii. It was genuine and thoughtful and for that he deserves the gesture back.

In these uncertain economic times it’s unfortunate that other public officials and wall street executives haven’t followed suit in an attempt to reach out to the public. For many Americans this is a reminder of the gap between “us and them.” Someone responsible ought to show remorse, send out an olive branch and then find a way to relate with the way the rest of the country is living. Although there are some who are worse off than others, we are all in this mess together.

It seems obvious the sense of responsibility that needs to be displayed and yet none of these so-called leaders are taking that step. Americans know that there’s not a panacea for the ills of our economy but we do know more can be done that just throwing money at the problem. With all of the trillions of dollars that are being used to raise the deficit, Americans still walk away with the feeling of an empty stomach as if to say "here's your cash, now get out of my business."

This gap between what is logical and what is the "right thing to do" could be closed if we all saw each other as equals. Rather, we tend to believe that the amount of money someone holds in their bank account actually makes them more deserving of certain privileges or rights. We think, maybe their concerns and issues are a higher priority than those who work for minimum wage. This socially accepted practice of caring more about class and money has been the downfall of what was originally supposed to make America unique and prosperous to begin with...that is inalienable rights. Thus my proposal is for the big wigs with the big checkbooks to step out from behind their desks and to make a simple gesture...an apology. Sure, that's not going to revive someone's 401K, college fund or foreclosure, but it will show a little decency and is a step in the right direction.

Whether the President is traveling around the world and speaking with countries from Europe, Asia and the Middle East, or discussing policy on capital hill, he always finds a way to connect by reaching a common ground with those he speaks with. If wall street can take away anything from the President, it would be that a little “shaka” can go a long way. And if they choose to utilize such gestures, they need not be mere lip service. The act must be one of heartfelt consideration. Because after all, isn’t being considered all we want in the first place?