“glass ceiling” – hugmamma's MIND, BODY and SOUL

In 2009 I began blogging in response to pundits who said they were speaking for the American people. Almost daily I was scrunching my nose, rolling my eyes and talking back to the TV. Exasperated, I often fumed…”are they talking about me?” No one called to ask, not that I’d answer the phone. But still…who told them what I was thinking?

Well here we are again in the midst of another Presidential campaign. How time flies…when you’re having fun. Hmmm…

What are MY thoughts?

President of the United States Barrack Obama (Photo credit: AN HONORABLE GERMAN)

It seems to me that a black man with a Muslim name wasn’t ever going to occupy the Presidency…without forever having to prove he belonged. As far as white men, and those who think like white men, are concerned Barack Obama is the outsider with his nose pressed up against the glass…still trying to play with the big boys. In this case…the “good ole boys.” If he were a “front man,” things might be different.

That Obama has a mind of his own is a double-edged sword. He’s doing things the way he knows how, which doesn’t always win him friends. As we well know. He’s a thinker… prone to weighing all options before acting. He’s a professor…encouraging discussion and compromise. He’s a constitutional lawyer…knowing how far he can push the envelope. And he’s a public servant…driven by his compassion for the underdog.

I imagine Obama as a man with a family who goes to work every day, like any typical American providing for his loved ones.

As President, Obama’s days are long. He’s juggling a war, a recovering economy, high unemployment, a combative Congress, terrorists, Mid-East turmoil, nuclear threats, natural disasters, Europe’s financial upheaval…and criticism…nonstop criticism. Including those who deny his U.S. citizenry.

The man has stamina. He’s ready, willing, and able…to go another 4 rounds. Obama’s a glutton for punishment…or the eternal optimist…or both.

Decades ago, when I was in college, I read a novel which told of international bankers who controlled governments, manipulating them for their own selfish purposes. During a class discussion there was talk that bankers were, in fact, in control of global finances. I’d never heard of such a thing. It seemed so hush-hush.

Here we are today with Super Packs buying the White House. And no one’s sweeping it under the carpet. It’s front and center in the media, 24/7. No secrets here, except as it pertains to who the money men are. They could even be foreigners with a vested interest in America’s activities at home and abroad.

So the vote for President of the United States is between an unlikely incumbent, and the “old boys” choice who might be obligated to one or more foreigners with their own agenda.

A U.S. citizen who happens to be black, with a name that some ascribe to our enemy…or the man with all the right credentials which might not be the case with some of his backers.

These are my thoughts based upon gut instinct. I don’t presume to know…what every other American thinks. We’re all entitled to our own opinions…

With his family by his side, Barack Obama is sworn in as the 44th president of the United States by Chief Justice of the United States John G. Roberts, Jr. in Washington, D.C., Jan. 20, 2009. More than 5,000 men and women in uniform are providing military ceremonial support to the presidential inauguration, a tradition dating back to George Washington’s 1789 inauguration. VIRIN: 090120-F-3961R-919 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

…we’re all equal…in God’s eyes…

………hugmamma.

My mind may wander during Mass, I may glance around looking for familiar faces among the congregation, smile when a friend recognizes me, admire Father Brian’s recently purchased vestments, puzzle over the types of flowers arranged in vases around the altar. But when we sit and Father begins the homily, he has my undivided attention. My husband agrees that our pastor has a gift for public speaking.

I’m sorry to say I’ve no idea what the Gospel was about. I was lost in thought attempting to make sense of the previous reading, the Epistle. The woman seemed not to understand what she was reading so she stumbled over the words, saying “disciple” instead of “discipline.” I’m always impressed by these volunteers who must appear to understand the words set in front of them, even though they may not grasp their full meaning. Some may take a few minutes before Mass to familiarize themselves with their task, but it’s not always possible to do so, I’m sure. So while Father was reading the Gospel, I was probably feeling sorry for the previous speaker, and thanking God that I had not been in her shoes. Unlike her, I would have been blushing to my white roots.

My ears perk up when I hear Father speaking “regular” English for it makes comprehending simpler; narratives in the Bible require that I focus. And as I’ve said, my mind is multi-tasking. When Father begins with some personal anecdote everyone seems to straighten up, and tune in to what he’s saying.

Father spoke of his early days as a seminarian, and how difficult it was to learn discipline. He did not relate well with the first person charged with instructing the novices. He did better with the next person, the “student master,” who would explain the reason for leveling discipline upon those in his care. When students at the UofW Newman Center asked Father Brian to join them for a weekend retreat, the ‘student master” denied the request. When Father asked if he might attend the wedding of friends elsewhere, he was again denied. The explanation given for the denials was that he needed to focus on the vocation he had chosen, and the community in which he lived. He needed to learn discipline, understanding that he could not have his way in everything. As Father’s words washed over me, I pondered their meaning for me.

Over breakfast my husband and I discussed the homily. I explained that as Father spoke, I could feel myself turning inward, humbling myself as Catholics of my era are wont to do. Talk about “glass ceilings,” I think Catholicism cornered the market on that centuries before it ever occurred to feminists trying to work their way up the corporate ladder. Throughout the 12 years I was schooled by nuns from Boston, we students were constantly reminded about our need for humility. So I wondered if I was confusing the need for discipline with the need to be humble, as taught by my religion.

I was interested in my husband’s perspective since, having been a seminarian, I assumed he’d had more theology than me. Ever the pragmatist he replied that his theological schooling had not exceeded mine and furthermore, every person needed discipline within himself, that it had nothing to do with religion. He was right.

Without self-discipline, we usurp the rights of others, including other species which share our natural resources. Without self-discipline, personal happiness eludes us because we are never satisfied unless we have more. Without self-discipline, we set ourselves apart from our community. Without self-discipline, we are unable to teach our children the values necessary for their evolution as good citizens.

I think having humility might make it easier to learn self-discipline; but having self-discipline doesn’t guarantee humility. Being a Catholic raised in the 50’s and 60’s, I have to be careful not to mistake being humble with self-reproachment. Catholics of my generation bought into the guilt trip, “hook, line and sinker.” So while I humbly acknowledge my gift for writing, I realize that with it comes the need for discipline, knowing that I have a responsibility to my readers in what I say, and how I say it. I think all writers have that responsibility, though some may not think so.

While I paid no heed to God’s gospel, I think I got Father Brian’s homily. I think I’ll need him as a middle-man to gain entrance to Heaven. Father speaks my language, “regular” English.

pray for me…hugmamma.