The Beauty Of A ‘Living Wake’

A recent experience of a man’s “living wake” unveiled some lessons in how to be a loving presence.

I attended my first “Living Wake” this weekend. It’s a time for family and friends to honor and tell stories about someone they love — while the person is still alive. It was a beautiful and poignant experience.

Phil Lo Dolce is a gregarious 84-year-old man devoted to his family and friends and the many community organizations and activities to which he gave of himself so generously. Phil was one of the first persons who welcomed my husband and me when we joined the Chicago Chapter of the International Thomas Merton Society. He was always there when someone was needed to set up or break down tables, schlepp boxes.

Phil operated a wholesale meat business and his homemade sausage was legendary at the Merton Society’s summer picnics. He was an early supplier of the Italian beef served at the Portillo’s restaurant chain. But it was Phil — the man and not the businessman — who more than a hundred people came to celebrate. The best part was that Phil, who is technically in hospice care, was there to hear it all — in a wheelchair and with an oxygen tank helping him to breathe.

Friends and family wanted to share their warm and funny stories about Phil, but Phil also had an important message for his friends.

“Everyone here is someone who touched my life or whose life I touched. I want you to know I love you all,” he began. “I also know that there are people here who are harboring anger and resentment against someone in their lives from whom they are estranged. I want you to know I love you and want you to love the people in your life.”

Phil’s words hit home on several levels, as there are people in my own life with whom I need to reconcile. They were also meaningful as we face what promises to be a chaotic and confusing time in our country. Already Trump administration officials have signaled that they want to begin immediately expelling thousands of immigrants, reportedly targeting initially my my beloved hometown for many years, Chicago.

The innocent are bound to get caught up in any massive deportation effort. Schools and businesses will be targeted. Family members will be separated.

Just as a perspective of 40 years has altered how many Americans now view the administration of President Jimmy Carter, I believe in several decades we will look back at this period in history as a time when America lost its moral compass. Instead of being a beacon of hope, opportunity and generosity for the world, we’ve sunk into a swamp of me-first-ism.

To be sure, a majority of Americans — including a large number of Christians — voted for Donald Trump, believing he will bring down the price of milk, gas, and other necessities. Sadly, this is shaping up as an administration more interested in punishing and dividing, benefiting the rich, perpetrating lies and extracting loyalty from public servants, rather than on serving and improving the lives of the vast majority of Americans, especially the poor and most vulnerable. That is, the very people Jesus repeatedly said we must serve.

Tikkun olam is a Jewish practice that means “to repair a broken world.” (Photo courtesy of The Jewish Journal).

Tikkun olam, a concept that comes from Judaism, is one I’ve been thinking about a great deal. It means “to repair a broken world.” It’s a reminder that we are responsible for one another’s well-being. We all have a role to play in building in what Martin Luther King, whose birthday we celebrate coincidentally on Inauguration Day, called “the beloved community.”

I’ve written often about going to poetry as a balm in troubled times. Writing poetry is also a way for me to work through the confusion and despondency I might be feeling.

Here is a poem called Tikkun Olam that I wrote this past week. I offer it as a prayer and benediction as we head toward Inauguration Day.

Tikkun Olam

That friend sliding into dementia

who asks, ‘Who are you?’ three times,

who tells you she has an appointment

at the hairdresser when she means the dentist,

call her anyway. The cars that speed ahead,

wait until the last minute to merge in a lane closure,

let them merge anyway. Observe the old niceties:

hold the door open for the person behind you,

don’t monopolize the end seat of a church pew

as though it was your personal real estate.

Remember to flush. Wash hands. Offer your gloves

to the gloveless man on the street

rubbing his bare hands together to keep them warm.

Say often when out to eat, “It’s my treat.”

Cover with canvas the sapling tree in winter,

as you would bundle a child in a snowsuit against the cold.

Look upon the table where you eat, chop carrots

and slice celery as if it were an altar. It is.

Think of making your bed, brushing your teeth

as holy acts. They are.

Don’t block driveways or put ash cans in front of

your house after you cleared the snow

so no one else can park there. And then,

clear your neighbor’s snow too.

What does it serve to spend your pennies of meanness?

Watch how the coins of kindness grow.

At my weekly prayer group the other day, we discussed how one way to get through what promises to be a challenging four years is to put one foot in front of the other, to do what we can to practice tikkun olam, and try to make this world a place “where it is easier for people to be good,” to borrow a favorite phrase of Catholic Worker co-founder Peter Maurin.

Thank you, dear Phil LoDolce, for showing us how to be a healer in a broken world.

This week and thereafter, how can we spend our coins of kindness?

Phil LoDolce, seated, with friends left to right Barbara Holowczak, Michael Brennan and author Judith Valente of the Chicago Chapter of the International Thomas Merton Society.

(To learn more about the Interntional Thomas Merton Society, please visit: https://merton.org/)