Try this word ζητώ
This Third Saturday of Lent was spent with about 30 other old men. Some a lot older, some not so much older and probably three other men who are still in their forties. We were all at church for the annual men’s retreat.
It was really a Day of Recollection as it started Friday evening and ended on Saturday at noon. We got to go home to our own beds at night. Just a partial escape from daily life.
It was a good time as the priest presiding over the activities was excellent. His name is Rick Ganz, SJ, a highly educated Jesuit with a great innate skill of relating stories about faith, tradition and life. He is glad to be a Catholic and it shows.
The theme of the retreat was simply “How do I know what is God’s will for me?” It is a more complicated answer that is made up of more questions. What is God’s will? What is my will? How do I know the difference? Why won’t God just tell me what to do? Did I miss what God told me to do? And on and on.
One of the words Father Rick referred to in the discussion is the Greek word ζητώ. The pronunciation as best I could find online: zito. It means ‘to seek’. Father embellished the meaning to ‘seek ardently’.
As Father talked about ‘seeking ardently’, I thought of my children and where they are in their lives. Each of them is seeking ardently but from different stages in life and with different views of the world.
My daughter is busy reestablishing herself in America after a year in Germany and also starting her own business in landscape design. A lot of changes in her life over the last year and half have caused her great joy, challenged her beyond her wildest dreams and helped her become an ardent seeker of… God knows what and soon my daughter will know too as each day unfolds.
My son is near the end of that wonderful time in his life where he realizes that his dad has learned a lot in the last eight years, ala Mark Twain. Not to mention the fact that he has learned a lot. He is seeking what we all seek at some point in our youth, the answer to “Who am I?” And he is getting closer each day. Looking for work in a slow economy is no fun and often disheartening. But he continues and is checking into the JobCorps as a viable route for schooling and job skills that make sense to him.
So Father Rick uses the word ζητώas a beautiful description of our seeking. Whatever my children are seeking or what I am seeking, it all comes down to "How do I know what is God’s will for me?”
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
FREE AT LAST, FREE AT LAST
Free at last! Free at Last!…
(With all due apologies to Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr.)
I disconnected my Facebook account recently. I am no longer friends with my friends. Sure feels good not having that to look at, get messages from folks I do not know, etc.
I feel better about disconnecting from Facebook than I did joining it. The only reason I joined Facebook was to try to find a friend from my Air Force days. Facebook served its purpose. I have his email address now so I don’t need the Facebook connection.
The only people I told about my disconnect from Facebook are two friends from high school, Mike and Peter. Mike is not on Facebook. Peter is and we became friends on Facebook. Somehow that is different than becoming friends over 40 years ago.
Peter responded to my declaration of freedom.
“Good for you. I was thinking the same thing about Facebook today -- but how do you "disconnect"? Do you send out one last message to everyone? Is there a protocol? Will your "friends" miss you?”
I took some time to find it, but there is a button to disconnect. You go to the help section and type 'disconnect' (Facebook talk for "get me out of this crap!"). They give you directions to the right spot to hit the disconnect button. Of course, if you aren't sure, they ask you if you aren't sure and then give you the opportunity to disconnect or disconnect permanently. Much like stopping the newspaper delivery while you are on vacation. You can always start up again where you left off. If you decide for the permanent disconnect, it goes into effect immediately but stays available for 14 days. At that time you will be disconnected permanently and your friends will be forever gone.
If you opt for the not so permanent disconnect, your profile and friend connections hang around longer than the 14 days of permanent disconnect.
There is probably a twelve-step program in this. You would have to join it online, but what the heck. One vice for another.
I don't know if there is a protocol to quitting Facebook. I quit. The friends haven't noticed. They weren't really my friends after all.
My wife didn’t know I had quit Facebook and she is my best friend. But, as she was going through her Facebook page after we got home the other night, she asks, "You quit Facebook?'
"Yep, how did you know?"
"Nancy says you dumped her." We hadn't seen Nancy in over 30 years. She was the adult altar minister at Barb's aunt's funeral. Nancy comes up to us after Mass and says, “You probably don't remember me but I remember you."
My wife and I had been in college with Nancy and were involved in campus ministry with her. Her Facebook note to Barb was something about not seeing us for over 30 years and then just days after my becoming her friend on Facebook, I dumped her. (Yet another woman scorned.)
So at least one friend missed me. Otherwise, Barb hasn't heard anything from any of our mutual friends. Your friends will only miss you if they happen to look at their list of friends and don’t find you there.
Mike responded to my notice of disconnect with the wisdom of a computer geek:
“Good man, punch that Facebook in the... Well you know. That is such a vector for malware. I love it. Security issues are my main source of business nowadays. But I don't want to get bit myself so I stay away from those nasty social sites.”
And the next day, Mike says,
“Since your Facebook withdrawal, thought you might like to know that you are not alone. Check out http://tinyurl.com/ydkf6fj.”
I did check it out and, according to the article; I have committed social networking suicide. This sounds terrible. But then I remembered that I live in Oregon and physician-assisted suicide is legal here so I can be free of guilt (social, moral or otherwise). My doctor told me to get off Facebook for health reasons. Or he would have, had I talked to him about it. Close enough.
So I am off Facebook, Mike has stayed away from it and Peter says,
“I just got added as a Friend by my baby sister. I can't quit now.”
Peter is right, of course. If your younger sibling wants to be your friend, you can’t say no. I have a younger brother who is on Facebook. He never responded to my request to be his friend. The request is probably still pending.
I don’t miss Facebook even more.
(With all due apologies to Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr.)
I disconnected my Facebook account recently. I am no longer friends with my friends. Sure feels good not having that to look at, get messages from folks I do not know, etc.
I feel better about disconnecting from Facebook than I did joining it. The only reason I joined Facebook was to try to find a friend from my Air Force days. Facebook served its purpose. I have his email address now so I don’t need the Facebook connection.
The only people I told about my disconnect from Facebook are two friends from high school, Mike and Peter. Mike is not on Facebook. Peter is and we became friends on Facebook. Somehow that is different than becoming friends over 40 years ago.
Peter responded to my declaration of freedom.
“Good for you. I was thinking the same thing about Facebook today -- but how do you "disconnect"? Do you send out one last message to everyone? Is there a protocol? Will your "friends" miss you?”
I took some time to find it, but there is a button to disconnect. You go to the help section and type 'disconnect' (Facebook talk for "get me out of this crap!"). They give you directions to the right spot to hit the disconnect button. Of course, if you aren't sure, they ask you if you aren't sure and then give you the opportunity to disconnect or disconnect permanently. Much like stopping the newspaper delivery while you are on vacation. You can always start up again where you left off. If you decide for the permanent disconnect, it goes into effect immediately but stays available for 14 days. At that time you will be disconnected permanently and your friends will be forever gone.
If you opt for the not so permanent disconnect, your profile and friend connections hang around longer than the 14 days of permanent disconnect.
There is probably a twelve-step program in this. You would have to join it online, but what the heck. One vice for another.
I don't know if there is a protocol to quitting Facebook. I quit. The friends haven't noticed. They weren't really my friends after all.
My wife didn’t know I had quit Facebook and she is my best friend. But, as she was going through her Facebook page after we got home the other night, she asks, "You quit Facebook?'
"Yep, how did you know?"
"Nancy says you dumped her." We hadn't seen Nancy in over 30 years. She was the adult altar minister at Barb's aunt's funeral. Nancy comes up to us after Mass and says, “You probably don't remember me but I remember you."
My wife and I had been in college with Nancy and were involved in campus ministry with her. Her Facebook note to Barb was something about not seeing us for over 30 years and then just days after my becoming her friend on Facebook, I dumped her. (Yet another woman scorned.)
So at least one friend missed me. Otherwise, Barb hasn't heard anything from any of our mutual friends. Your friends will only miss you if they happen to look at their list of friends and don’t find you there.
Mike responded to my notice of disconnect with the wisdom of a computer geek:
“Good man, punch that Facebook in the... Well you know. That is such a vector for malware. I love it. Security issues are my main source of business nowadays. But I don't want to get bit myself so I stay away from those nasty social sites.”
And the next day, Mike says,
“Since your Facebook withdrawal, thought you might like to know that you are not alone. Check out http://tinyurl.com/ydkf6fj.”
I did check it out and, according to the article; I have committed social networking suicide. This sounds terrible. But then I remembered that I live in Oregon and physician-assisted suicide is legal here so I can be free of guilt (social, moral or otherwise). My doctor told me to get off Facebook for health reasons. Or he would have, had I talked to him about it. Close enough.
So I am off Facebook, Mike has stayed away from it and Peter says,
“I just got added as a Friend by my baby sister. I can't quit now.”
Peter is right, of course. If your younger sibling wants to be your friend, you can’t say no. I have a younger brother who is on Facebook. He never responded to my request to be his friend. The request is probably still pending.
I don’t miss Facebook even more.
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