Weekend Blogitoral: Michael Jackson is in a Better Place

I was profoundly moved by the death of the King of Pop. Similar to Elvis only even more vivid for me, I grew up with Jackson. With the exception of a few 45's (Google that if you are under 40) I never spent much money on his music. Yet, in his prime, he was everywhere. You could not avoid his music and influence.

I am not on a which hunt. I am no more offended by Michael's life choices than God is offended by mine. What struck me unexpectedly through a radio interview last Thursday was a commentary from a friend of Jackson's. I do not know for sure who was being interviewed. Repeatedly in the interview, calmly and confidently, the person kept saying, Michael is in a better place.

In some ways this is a tough blog to write. I am thinking out loud here. I am not sure what I really want to say, and by no means do I want to come across as that guy. You know, the guy who has an agenda -- A vulture who jumps on the things people far from God say in order that I can look smarter than them. The arrogant and unChristian, I am right and everybody else is wrong, that keeps people far from God, far from God --

Yet, the confidence and calmness of the Michael is in a better place comment made me feel awkward inside. Did this friend know something about Michael that was not obvious through casual examination of the evidence? Maybe or maybe not.

Pop culture has a theology. In fact, everybody has a theology and a belief system. Everybody, however, really can't be right. I mean, will we say at Charles Manson's funeral, Charles is finally at peace? I don't think so. Did we say something similar about Mother Theresa? Probably. So, where does Michael Jackson fit on the scale? How about Elvis? Princess Di?

Ultimately only God knows if Michael is in a better place. But if he is, it is not by chance, it is by choice. At some point in Jackson's journey he would have responded to the invitation of Jesus, before his death.

However, why not begin with what we know. How about you? When you die, where will you go? What will others left behind say about your whereabouts? How can you find out more about life after death? No matter your belief system, most of humanity (not all) believe death is irreversible. Wherever Michael is, that is where he will be. His music will live here as long as there is a planet, but he is gone. Sad day.

Weekend Blogitorial: Accidental Father

I know the headline may put one thought in your mind about fatherhood. I borrowed the term from the 1988 movie called, The Accidental Tourist. At risk of being misunderstood, I can't help but to think of my dad, when I think of something that happened that was totally unintentional.

My dad was a great dad. He could do a seminar for young fathers if he were an intentional father. He never, to my knowledge, read a book, watched an instructional video, nor went to better father support groups. Don't invite him to teach your young fathers. I am not sure it will be all that compelling.

Some of us live our lives looking for seminar material. My dad lived his life doing what he was supposed to do. When it came to being a father, he was just good at it.

Of the things I admire most about my dad, the fact that he was just plain good at stuff without trying, was the most. He was the best man in my wedding. That was not accidental either. I wrote in his 2009 Father's Day card: To The Best Man I Ever Met.

Dino Sr. turned 77, Friday. My sister and I had breakfast with him at IHOP. I had coffee with him at 7:00 a.m. this morning before heading off to Louisville. Time with him now is like gold. Time with him is now intentional.

I have met many people over the years that grew up without good fathers, or without fathers at all. When my dad was 5 years old, his dad died (In Italy - Coal Miner's Asthma). Certain things in life are beyond my comprehension. I guess what I am saying is, Why Me? Why was I born the son of Dino Senesi, Sr.? Why did I have coffee with my dad this morning?

Maybe it would be better to say, I was the Accidental Son. Not because there was no human planning involved, there was. Only because I was so blessed and had nothing to do with it. I did not plan or deserve to be born to either of my parents. It just happened.

I think this is the time I am supposed to thank God for His amazing grace!

Monastic Retreats for Dummies IV - Like Water to Fish

So, enough suspense already (see Friday's cliff hanger). What kind of secret information was written on the tablets hidden within the chapel at Mepkin Abbey?

First let me give you the words of monastic hall of famer, Thomas Merton. I will tell you more about him later. His words were in a guest registry at the entrance of the chapel.

Let there always be quiet, dark churches in which people can take refuge . . . Houses of God, filled with His silent presence. There, even when they don't know how to pray at least they can be still and breath easily.

The subject of silence seems to twist and turn. What spiritual neurosis in me caused me to avoid the silence? What about the Bible? Real Christianity has lost a bit of its appeal in recent days. God tells us clearly through the Apostle Paul, "Be anxious for nothing," (Phil. 4.6). I end too many days with red hands from the consistent wringing and fretting.

Here is one quote on the easel, then I will begin to list the series of bullet points that I understood the most. You make application. I am in process.

Silence for a monk is like water to a fish.

Here are more random thoughts from the secret monastic locker room wall on the benefits of silence:

1. Sanctuary to receive God's word

2. Strengthen us in weakness

3. Openness to God

4. Settles me down

5. Leads to serenity

6. Gives reality and depth of God

7. Intimacy with Christ

8. Receive what God is offering in the moment

9. Fosters continual prayer

10. Keeps me aware of the needs of others.

More coming this week. This is not all that was on the sacred tablet at Mepkin Abbey. Let me know which one of these connect with you.

Weekend Blogitorial - Free Speech, David Letterman, Sarah Palin

I am a huge fan of television comedy. Since 1980, before David Letterman was cool, my sister, Debbie, and I have been Letterman groupies. I seldom watch Letterman now due to a different routine. I do keep up with an occasional Top 10 list and see him periodically. He made me laugh. Letterman, for me, was always good for a giggle while surfing.

Sometimes my bar should be higher on these guys. In the past I have conceded (maybe rationalized) the majority of "Letterman" types do not remotely value the things I do. I have never used that as a criteria to enjoy their entertainment.

David Letterman crossed my line recently. Not because I am out to defend Sarah Palin or her politics. Not because I believe Letterman should be censored. Sarah Palin's politics are much like mine, but I am not playing the liberal vs. conservative media slant. Maybe another day . . . but there is nothing new under the sun about that tired old rant. BTW, take a look at the comments on the National Organization for Women's Hall of Shame blog if you think conservatives are the only people who have noticed Letterman.

Letterman's blatant disrespect for Todd and Sarah Palin's children (June 8,9) gives me a window into his soul. I am not surprised or necessarily outraged by his comment about Sarah Palin's "slutty flight attendant look." That is, at least not for Sarah Palin. I have wondered how flight attendants might feel, however.

Bottom line for me - I am done with Letterman. He crossed a line when he made a sexual joke about a Yankee baseball player and Palin's under aged daughter. Yes, it was pointed at her older daughter, Bristol, but even then, not funny. Bad judgment. Deeply flawed thinking. Disregard for women, rape, children, healthy sexuality, and much more. Not funny.

I am sad, but sad mostly for Letterman. To add to the outrage was his arrogant attempt at a non-apology on June 10th. Here you see the "heart" behind all this. Essentially, he blamed the need for the non-apology on the Palin families' reaction to his humor. He made himself up as the victim in all this.

How does all this fit on the big picture? I will not write CBS or Letterman. I will not rant to people (with the exception of this blog). I will simply exercise my freedom and make a choice. He is free to say what he wants. I am free to be critical of his judgment and stop watching him. Simply put, if Letterman can make a choice, I can make a choice. So, I am. And you know what else? You and Letterman, are free to criticize my choice inspired by his choice. What a country!

Monastic Retreats for Dummies III - A Visit in the Monastic Locker Room

I felt like I was in a movie. My monastic IQ was pretty low as I drove on the grounds at Mepkin Abbey. A few things from church history class at Milligan College came back to mind. The name St. Benedict rung a bell. So, I wanted to get the back story here. I wanted to see up under the hood of monastic life.

On day 2 I hit that monastic jackpot. I was prowling, wait no, I was enjoying the chapel during non-prayer meeting hours. I started opening doors. You know, no harm intended. I walked into a side room off from the main chapel. I saw an easel pushed away in the corner of what looked like a classroom. Page after page of notes were scribbled on the easel pad. Private notes.

Looks like the abbot (head monk) needed to have a "come to Jesus" meeting with the monks. You mean, Baptist churches are not the only places that have those kind of meetings? What I found on the pages of the pad, on the easel, was gold to me.

The issue seemed to be that some of the monks were struggling with keeping their mouth shut. Okay, now it was starting to feel creepy Baptist. My struggle with keeping my mouth shut is one thing. My tribe's well documented talking issues are another. But . . . these guys . . . those who had given their lives to silence and solitude?

What I read on the proceeding 10-12 large, ruled pages, scribbled with a marker, was in a word, revolutionary. So revolutionary that I have decided to do my first cliff hanger blog in history.
See you Monday. In the mean time . . . keep your mouth shut.

Monastic Retreats for Dummies II - Silence Every Voice

I think my uncle was right. We need to be over matched to grow. Yet, people (my pastor, Bill Howard, told me this) have perfectly good reasons for doing what they do. I will never grow with the Lord if I avoid environments that make me feel awkward, silly, and inadequate. My sense of adequacy or even superiority freezes me in time. But they are so comfortable. They are so reassuring and dependable.

Why would I go on a retreat at Mempkin Abbey? I confessed earlier this week that solitude and personal retreats have never been a priority. I knew at this point I needed more. I needed deeper. I needed quiet. Yet the prospect was awkward.

Wayne Cordeiro 's book, Leading on Empty, was recommended to me in March. Perfect timing. In the midst of Wayne's valley he withdrew to a monastic retreat. As he unfolded the story, the following caught my attention:

During my time of solitude, I asked God to silence every voice but His own.

That was a hammer for me. All the voices in my head needed to stop. From Fox News to ESPN; to the Internet to the latest book; from the recorded voices throughout my lifetime; even from the dark side, Satan himself, something had to stop the voices. Thus, getting away from them was the only way.

The monks had committed their lives to silence. This particular order had gone contemporary. I hope they never contemplate taking abbey out of the name of Mepkin Abbey. I hope they never show a movie clip in vespers. But, for a few hours a day, while they worked, they could talk to each other. Don't know when and why they changed, but they did. For some reason. Essentially it came to around 12 on 12 off on the talking thing.

I wanted to ask them questions. I would have loved to interview one of them for my blog. But . . . no talky. Not many voices there on the Ashley River. Not many at all. Not any place for me to say: bed hard; food cold; or I quit. Just a place for all voices to stop. It took awhile, but I think it happened, except for one voice. More on silence coming.

Monastic Retreats for Dummies - Prayer, Solitude, and Silence for the Rest of Us

Mepkin Abbey turned out to be more significant than I thought. Don't get me wrong, the minute I pulled out of my driveway in West Columbia to drive that way, it was huge personal win.

I left two hours later than I should have. That was normal. Check-in at MA is 1-4 in the afternoon. I left around 1:45 but had two stops due north of my destinations so . . . I did not get there until about 4:20.

I already felt spiritually over matched. Around 22 monks live at Mepkin Abbey. Some are in their 80's and 90's. I am not sure if any of them have sinned very much. I mean, there was no internet, no cable t.v., or anything that might cause a person's mind/heart to steer off course. Here are guys, who have been at this prayer, silence, and solitude thingy for as long 65-70 years. Their first daily prayer meeting is at 3:20 a.m. Those who had not figured it out were long ago court marshaled or had faced a firing squad.

My beliefs about God are different than those guys at Mepkin Abbey. But to totally dismiss their experience with God because of the apparent theological flaws might cause me to miss something. I do believe in theological non-negotiables. However, my list has shrunk over the years. I confess.

So, the journey to M.A. began with a profuse apology to the monk in charge of check-in. The only thing that made me comfortable was his baldness. Little did I know that God had me right where He wanted me. Apologetic and spiritually over matched.

I remember what my Uncle Harold told me years ago. I was a highly motivated, sixth grade basketball player. "Always play with people that are better than you." That is a great principle in spiritual growth. I will talk to you more about why I shy away from Uncle Harold's advice tomorrow. Maybe you will see why you do too, if you do.