ᘛ Read Format Kindle @Tattoos on the Heart: The Power of Boundless Compassion (English Edition) For Free ᚞ Ebook Author Gregory Boyle ᚳ

ᘛ Read  Format Kindle @Tattoos on the Heart: The Power of Boundless Compassion (English Edition) For Free ᚞ Ebook Author Gregory Boyle ᚳ ᘛ Read Format Kindle @Tattoos on the Heart: The Power of Boundless Compassion (English Edition) For Free ᚞ Ebook Author Gregory Boyle ᚳ Tattoos on the Heart 1 God, I Guess God can get tiny, if were not careful Im certain we all have an image of God that becomes the touchstone, the controlling principle, to which we return when we stray My touchstone image of God comes by way of my friend and spiritual director, Bill Cain, S.J Years ago he took a break from his own ministry to care for his father as he died of cancer His father had become a frail man, dependent on Bill to do everything for him Though he was physically not what he had been, and the disease was wasting him away, his mind remained alert and lively In the role reversal common to adult children who care for their dying parents, Bill would put his father to bed and then read him to sleep, exactly as his father had done for him in childhood Bill would read from some novel, and his father would lie there, staring at his son, smiling Bill was exhausted from the days care and work and would plead with his dad, Look, heres the idea I read to you, you fall asleep Bills father would impishly apologize and dutifully close his eyes But this wouldnt last long Soon enough, Bills father would pop one eye open and smile at his son Bill would catch him and whine, Now, come on The father would, again, oblige, until he couldnt any, and the other eye would open to catch a glimpse of his son This went on and on, and after his fathers death, Bill knew that this evening ritual was really a story of a father who just couldnt take his eyes off his kid How much so God Anthony De Mello writes, Behold the One beholding you, and smiling God would seem to be too occupied in being unable to take Her eyes off of us to spend any time raising an eyebrow in disapproval Whats true of Jesus is true for us, and so this voice breaks through the clouds and comes straight at us You are my Beloved, in whom I am wonderfully pleased There is not much tiny in that In 1990 the television news program 60 Minutes came to Dolores Mission Church One of its producers had read a Sunday Los Angeles Times Magazine article about my work with gang members in the housing projects Mike Wallace, also seeing the piece, wanted to do a report I was assured that Id be getting Good Mike These were the days when the running joke was you know youre going to have a bad day when Mike Wallace and a 60 Minutes film crew show up at your office Wallace arrived at the poorest parish in Los Angeles in the stretchest of white limousines, stepped out of the car, wearing a flak jacket, covered with pockets, prepared, I suppose, for a journey into the jungle For all his initial insensitivity, toward the end of the visit, in a moment unrecorded, Wallace did say to me, Can I admit something I came here expecting monsters But thats not what I found Later, in a recorded moment, we are sitting in a classroom filled with gang members, all students in our Dolores Mission Alternative School Wallace points at me and says, You wont turn these guys in to the police Which seems quite silly to me at the time I say something lame like, I didnt take my vows to the LAPD But then Wallace turns to a homie and grills him on this, saying over and over, He wont turn you in, will he And then he asks the homie, Why is that Why do you think he wont turn you over to the police The kid just stares at Mike Wallace, shrugs, nonplussed, and says, God I guess This is a chapter on God, I guess Truth be told, the whole book is Not much in my life makes any sense outside of God Certainly, a place like Homeboy Industries is all folly and bad business unless the core of the endeavor seeks to imitate the kind of God one ought to believe in In the end, I am helpless to explain why anyone would accompany those on the margins were it not for some anchored belief that the Ground of all Being thought this was a good idea Rascal is not one to take advice He can be recalcitrant, defensive, and primed for the fight Well into his thirties, hes a survivor His truck gets filled with scrap metal and with this, somehow, he feeds his kids and manages to stay on this side of eviction To his credit, he bid prison time and gang banging good bye a long time ago Rascal sometimes hits me up for funds, and I oblige if I have it and if his attitude doesnt foul my mood too much But you cant tell him anythingexcept this one day, he actually listens I am going on about somethingcant remember what but I can see hes listening When Im done, he says simply, You know, Im gonna take that advice, and Im gonna let it marinate, pointing at his heart, right here Perhaps we should all marinate in the intimacy of God Genesis, I suppose, got it rightIn the beginning, God Ignatius of Loyola, the founder of the Jesuits, also spoke about the task of marinating in the God who is always greater He writes, Take care always to keep before your eyes, first, God The secret, of course, of the ministry of Jesus, was that God was at the center of it Jesus chose to marinate in the God who is always greater than our tiny conception, the God who loves without measure and without regret To anchor yourself in this, to keep always before your eyes this God is to choose to be intoxicated, marinated in the fullness of God An Algerian Trappist, before his martyrdom, spoke to this fullness When you fill my heart, my eyes overflow Willy crept up on me from the drivers side I had just locked the office and was ready to head home at 8 00 p.m Shit, Willy, I say, Dont be doin that Spensa, G, he says, My bad Its just well, my stomachs on chale Kick me down with twenty bones, yeah Dog, my wallets on chale, I tell him A dog is the one upon whom you can relythe role dog, the person who has your back But get in Lets see if I can trick any funds outta the ATM Willy hops on board He is a life force of braggadocio and posturinga thoroughly good soulbut his confidence is outsize, that of a lion wanting you to know he just swallowed a man whole A gang member, but a peripheral one at besthe wants to regale you with his exploits than to actually be in the midst of any In his midtwenties, Willy is a charmer, a quintessential homie con man whos apt to coax money out of your ATM if you let him This night, Im tired and I want to go home Its easier not to resist The Food 4 Less on Fourth and Soto has the closest ATM I tell Willy to stay in the car, in case we run into one of Willys rivals inside Stay here, dog, I tell him, Ill be right back Im not ten feet away when I hear a muffled Hey Its Willy, and hes miming, the keys, from the passenger seat of my car Hes making over the top, key in the ignition seales The radio, he mouths, as he holds a hand, cupping his ear I wag a finger, No, chale Then its my turn to mime I hold both my hands together and enunciate exaggeratedly, Pray Willy sighs and levitates his eyeballs But hes putty He assumes the praying hands pose and looks heavenwardcara santucha I proceed on my quest to the ATM but feel the need to check in on Willy only ten yards later I turn and find him still in the prayer position, seeming to be only half aware that Im looking in on him I return to the car, twenty dollars in hand, and get in Something has happened here Willy is quiet, reflective, and there is a palpable sense of peace in the vehicle I look at Willy and say, You prayed, didnt you He doesnt look at me Hes still and quiet Yeah, I did I start the car Well, what did God say to you I ask him Well, first He said, Shut up and listen So what dya do Come on, G, he says, What am I sposed ta do I shut up and listened I begin to drive him home to the barrio Ive never seen Willy like this Hes quiet and humbleno need to convince me of anything or talk me out of something else So, son, tell me something, I ask How do you see God God he says, Thats my dog right there And God I ask, How does God see you Willy doesnt answer at first So I turn and watch as he rests his head on the recliner, staring at the ceiling of my car A tear falls down his cheek Heart full, eyes overflowing God thinks Im firme To the homies, firme means, could not be one bit better Not only does God think were firme, it is Gods joy to have us marinate in that The poet Kabir asks, What is God Then he answers his own question God is the breath inside the breath Willy found his way inside the breath and it was firme I came late to this understanding in my own lifehelped along by the grace filled pedagogy of the people of Dolores Mission I was brought up and educated to give assent to certain propositions God is love, for example You concede God loves us, and yet there is this lurking sense that perhaps you arent fully part of the us The arms of God reach to embrace, and somehow you feel yourself just outside Gods fingertips Then you have no choice but to consider that God loves me, yet you spend much of your life unable to shake off what feels like God only embracing you begrudgingly and reluctantly I suppose, if you insist, God has to love me too Then who can explain this next moment, when the utter fullness of God rushes in on youwhen you completely know the One in whom you move and live and have your being, as St Paul writes You see, then, that it has been Gods joy to love you all along And this is completely new Every time one of the Jesuits at Dolores Mission would celebrate a birthday, the same ritual would repeat itself You know, one of the other Jesuits would say to me, for example, Your birthday is Wednesday The people are throwing a surprise party for you on the Saturday before The protests are as predictable as the festivities Oh come on, Id say, Cant we pass this year Look, one of my brothers would say to me, This party is not for youits for the people And so I am led into the parish hall for some bogus meeting, and I can hear the people shushing one anotherEl Padre ya viene As I step in the door, lights go on, people shout, mariachis strike themselves up I am called upon to muster up the same award winning look of shock from last year They know that you know They dont care They dont just love youits their joy to love you The poet Rumi writes, Find the real world, give it endlessly away, grow rich flinging gold to all who ask Live at the empty heart of paradox Ill dance there with youcheek to cheek Dancing cumbias with the women of Dolores Mission rhymes with Gods own wild desire to dance with each one of us cheek to cheek Meister Eckhart says God is greater than God The hope is that our sense of God will grow as expansive as our God is Each tiny conception gets obliterated as we discover and the God who is always greater At Camp Paige, a county detention facility near Glendora, I was getting to know fifteen year old Rigo, who was about to make his first communion The Catholic volunteers had found him a white shirt and black tie We still had some fifteen minutes before the other incarcerated youth would join us for Mass in the gym, and Im asking Rigo the basic stuff about his family and his life I ask about his father Oh, he says, hes a heroin addict and never really been in my life Used to always beat my ass Fact, hes in prison right now Barely ever lived with us Then something kind of snaps in himan image brings him to attention I think I was in the fourth grade, he begins I came home Sent home in the middle of the day Got into some pedo at school Cant remember what When I got home, my jefito was there He was hardly ever there My dad says, Why they send you home And cuz my dad always beat me, I said, If I tell you, promise you wont hit me He just said, Im your father Course Im not gonna hit you So I told him Rigo is caught short in the telling He begins to cry, and in moments hes wailing and rocking back and forth I put my arm around him He is inconsolable When he is able to speak and barely so, he says only, He beat me with a pipe with a pipe When Rigo composes himself, I ask, And your mom He points some distance from where we are to a tiny woman standing by the gyms entrance Thats her over there He pauses for a beat, Theres no one like her Again, some slide appears in his mind, and a thought occurs Ive been locked up for than a year and a half She comes to see me every Sunday You know how many buses she takes every Sundayto see my sorry ass Then quite unexpectedly he sobs with the same ferocity as before Again, it takes him some time to reclaim breath and an ability to speak Then he does, gasping through his tears Seven buses She takes seven buses Imagine How, then, to imagine, the expansive heart of this Godgreater than Godwho takes seven buses, just to arrive at us We settle sometimes for less than intimacy with God when all God longs for is this solidarity with us In Spanish, when you speak of your great friend, you describe the union and kinship as being de ua y mugreour friendship is like the fingernail and the dirt under it Our image of who God is and whats on Gods mind is tiny than it is troubled It trips on our puny sense of God than over conflicting creedal statements or theological considerations The desire of Gods heart is immeasurably larger than our imaginations can conjure This longing of Gods to give us peace and assurance and a sense of well being only awaits our willingness to cooperate with Gods limitless magnanimity Behold the One beholding you and smiling It is precisely because we have such an overactive disapproval gland ourselves that we tend to create God in our own image It is truly hard for us to see the truth that disapproval does not seem to be part of Gods DNA God is just too busy loving us to have any time left for disappointment One day I receive a phone call in my office around three in the afternoon Its from a twenty five year old homie named Cesar I have known him for most of his life I can remember first meeting him when he was a little kid in Pico Gardens during the earthquake of 1987 when the projects had become a tent city People lived outside in carpas well past the time of any danger Cesar was one of the many kids seeking reassurance from me Are we gonna be okay Is this the end of the world I spent every evening of those two weeks walking the tents, and I always associate Cesar with that period Hes calling me today because he has just finished a four year stint in prison Turned out, earthquakes were the least of Cesars troubles He had joined the local gang, since there wasnt anyone around to chase his ass and rein him in At this point in his life, Cesar had been locked up often than not Cesar and I chitchat on the phone, dispatching the niceties in short orderIts good to be outId love to see yathen Cesar says, Let me just cut to the cheese This was not a spin I had heard on this expression before You know, I just got outta the pinta and dont really have a place to stay Right now, Im staying with a friend in his apartmenthere in El Monteaway from the projects and the hood and the homies Y sabes qu, I dont got no clothes My lady she left me, and she burned all my clothes, you know, in some anger toward me, I guess Im waiting for him to cut to the cheese So I dont got no clothes, he says Can you help me Sure, son, I say, Look, its three now Ill pick you up after work, at six oclock I drive to the apartment at the appointed hour, and Im surprised to see Cesar standing on the sidewalk waiting for meIm used to searching for homies when asked to retrieve them I guess you might say that Cesar is a scary looking guy Its not just the fact that hes large and especially, fresh out of prison, newly swole from lifting weights He exudes menace So there he is, standing and waiting for me When he sees its me, this huge ex con does this bouncing up and down, yippy skippy, happy to see ya, hand clapping gleeful jig He flies into my car and throws his arms around me When I saw you right now, G, I got aaaallllll happy There was some essence to him that hadnt changed from that child wanting to know that the world was safe from earthquakes We go to JCPenney, and I tell him he can buy two hundred dollars worth of clothes In no time, his arms are filled with the essentials, and we both are standing in a considerable line to pay for it all All the other customers are staring at Cesar Not only is he menacing, but he seems to have lost his volume knob People cant help but turn and look, though they all take great pains to pretend theyre not listening Hey, he says, in what you might call a loud ass voice, See dat couple over there I am not the only one turning and looking The entire check out line shifts Cesar points to a young couple with a tiny son Well, I walk up to that guy and I look at him and I say, Hey, dont I know you And his ruca grabs the morrito and holds him and shakes her head and says, NO, WE DONT KNOW YOU all panickeada as Then the vato looks at me like hes gonna have a damn paro cardiaco, and he shakes his head, NO, I DONT KNOW YOU Then I look at him closer, and I say, Oh, my bad, I thought you were somebody else And they get aaaaallllll relaxed when I say that He takes a breath I mean, damn, G do I look that scary I shake my head no and say, Yeah, pretty much, dog The customers cant help themselves, and we all laugh I drop Cesar off at his friends apartment He becomes quiet and vulnerable, as frightened as a child displaced by shifting ground I just dont want to go back La neta, Im scared Look, son, I say to him, Whos got a better heart than you And God is at the center of that great, big ol heart Hang on to that, dogcuz you have what the world wants So, what can go wrong We say our good byes, and as I watch him walk away alone, I find his gentleness and disarming sweet soul a kind of elixir, soothing my own doubts and calling me to fearlessness At three oclock in the morning, the phone rings Its Cesar He says what every homie says when they call in the middle of the night, Did I wake you I always think Why no, I was just waiting and hoping that youd call Cesar is sober, and its urgent that he talk to me I gotta ask you a question You know how Ive always seen you as my fatherever since I was a little kid Well, I hafta ask you a question Now Cesar pauses, and the gravity of it all makes his voice waver and crumble, Have I been your son Oh, hell, yeah, I say Whew, Cesar exhales, I thought so Now his voice becomes enmeshed in a cadence of gentle sobbing Then I will be your son And you will be my father And nothing will separate us, right Thats right In this early morning call Cesar did not discover that he has a father He discovered that he is a son worth having The voice broke through the clouds of his terror and the crippling mess of his own history, and he felt himself beloved God, wonderfully pleased in him, is where God wanted Cesar to reside Jesus, in Matthews gospel, says, How narrow is the gate that leads to life Mistakenly, I think, weve come to believe that this is about restriction The way is narrow But it really wants us to see that narrowness is the way St Hedwig writes, All is narrow for me, I feel so vast Its about funneling ourselves into a central place Our choice is not to focus on the narrow, but to narrow our focus The gate that leads to life is not about restriction at all It is about an entry into the expansive There is a vastness in knowing youre a son daughter worth having We see our plentitude in Gods own expansive view of us, and we marinate in this In March of 2004, Scrappy walks into our office and, Im not proud to admit it, my heart sinks From the perch of my own glass enclosed office, I can see Scrappy talking to Marcos, the receptionist, who is also from Scrappys gang He is apparently signing up to see me I havent seen Scrappy in ten years, since hes been incarcerated all that time, but even before that, Im not sure if hes ever set foot in my office My heart is in some lower register Lets just say Scrappy and I have never been on good terms I first met him in the summer of 1984 I was newly ordained at Dolores Mission He was fifteen years old, and his probation officer assigned him to the church to complete his hours of community service The chip located on his shoulder was the size of a Pontiac I dont have to listen to you I dont have to do what you say Some five years later, I am standing in front of a packed church, preaching at the funeral of one of Scrappys homeboys If you love Cuko and want to honor his memory, I say to the congregation, then you will work for peace and love your enemies Immediately, Scrappy stands up and moves out of his pew and into the center aisle All eyes are on him I stop speaking The eternal scowl I had come to know in that summer of 1984 is fixed on me as he walks straight ahead We stand face to face, he mad dogs me with some intensity, then turns and exits the church by the side door Three years later, Im riding my bike, as I would in those days, patrolling the projects at night I enter Scrappys barrio, and there is a commotion The homies have formed a circle and clearly two of their rank are goin head up I break through the mob and, indeed, find Scrappy throwing down with one of his own homies I discover later that the beef was over some jaina girl I stop the fight, and Scrappy reaches into the front waist of his pants and pulls out a gun that he waves around wildly The crowd seems to be horrified than I am There are great gasps and pleas, Hey, dog, damn, put the gun away Dont disrespect G Scrappy steadies the gun right at me and grunts a half laugh, Shiiittt, Ill shoot his ass too Are you getting a sense of what our relationship was like So years later when I see him enter my office, it takes me a moment, but I locate my heart, hiding in Filenes basement, and Marcos intercoms me Scrappys here Then his voice gets squeaky and tentative Ya wanna see him Marcos knew enough that this would be in some doubt Course, send him in Scrappy is not a large fellow, but there is no fat in his midsize build His hair is slicked back and his moustache is understated He hugs me only because not to would be too awkward We have, after all, known each other for twenty years He sits and wastes no time Look, lets just be honest with each other and talk man to man You know that Ive never disrespected you I figure, why not, Im gonna go for it Well, how bout the time you walked out on my homily at Cukos funeral or the time you pulled a cuete out on me Scrappy looks genuinely perplexed by what Ive just said and cocks and scrunches his face like a confused beagle Yeah, well besides that, he says Then we do something we never have in our two decades of knowing each other We laugh But really, truly laughhead resting on my desk laughter We carry on until this runs its course, and then Scrappy settles into the core of his being, beyond the bravado of his chingn status in his gang I have spent the last twenty years building a reputation for myself and now I regret that I even have one And then in another first, he cries But really, truly cries He is doubled over, and the rocking seems to soothe the release of this great ache When the wailing stops and he comes up for air, he daubs his eyes and runs his sleeve across his nose He finally makes eye contact Now what do I do I know how to sell drugs I know how to gangbang I know how to shank fools in prison I dont know how to change the oil in my car I know how to drive, but I dont know how to park And I dont know how to wash my clothes except in the sink of a cell I hire him that day, and he begins work the next morning on our graffiti crew Scrappy discovered, as Scripture has it, that where he is standing is holy ground He found the narrow gate that leads to life Gods voice was not of restriction, to shape up or ship out Scrappy found himself in the center of vastness and right in the expansive heart of God The sacred place toward which God had nudged Scrappy all his life is not to be arrived at, but discovered Scrappy did not knock on the door so God would notice him No need for doors at all Scrappy was already inside God seems to be an unwilling participant in our efforts to pigeonhole Him The minute we think weve arrived at the most expansive sense of who God is, this Great, Wild God, as the poet Hafez writes, breaks through the claustrophobia of our own articulation, and things get large again Richard Rohr writes in Everything Belongs that nothing of our humanity is to be discarded Gods unwieldy love, which cannot be contained by our words, wants to accept all that we are and sees our humanity as the privileged place to encounter this magnanimous love No part of our hardwiring or our messy selves is to be disparaged Where we stand, in all our mistakes and imperfection, is holy ground It is where God has chosen to be intimate with us and not in any way but this Scrappys moment of truth was not in recognizing what a disappointment hes been all these years It came in realizing that God had been beholding him and smiling for all this time, unable to look anywhere else It is certainly true that you cant judge a book by its cover, nor can you judge a book by its first chaptereven if that chapter is twenty years long When the vastness of God meets the restriction of our own humanity, words cant hold it The best we can do is find the moments that rhyme with this expansive heart of God Shortly after I was ordained, I spent a year in Cochabamba, Bolivia It was a gracious time that changed me forever My Spanish was quite poor, and the year was to be filled with language study and ministry I could celebrate the Eucharist in Spanish after a summer at Dolores Mission , but I was a slave to the missal for some time to come Early on, I began to minister to a community named Temporal, which had been without a priest for a long time A few weeks into my time there, I was approached by a group of health workers who asked me to celebrate Mass in Tirani This was a Quechua community located high above Cochabamba, whose indigenous folks harvested flowers for market It was common to see campesinos making the long trek from Tirani with a huge weight of flowers tied to their backs Like beasts of burden, they were doubled over all the way to town The health workers explain that the Quechua Indians in Tirani have not seen a priest in a decade, so they ask me to celebrate the Mass in Spanish, and one of the workers would preach in Quechua Everyone there speaks Quechua, with only the men able to defend themselves in Spanish The workers pick me up at the bottom of the hill at one oclock on a Sunday afternoon I hop into the back of the open air truck with the others, and we climb to the top of the mountain Midtrek, I decide to do an inventory of the contents of my backpack I have brought everything I need but a missalette I have not the words At this point in my early priesthood, I couldnt wing Mass in English The thought of doing so in Spanish was preposterous I do have a Spanish Bible, so I frantically flip through the pages, trying to find any passages that sound like the words of consecration Take this and eat I locate any part of the New Testament that has Jesus kicking it at a table and eating Soon, my body is introducing me to the marvels of flop sweatand I havent even arrived at Tirani yet I am red in the face and stingy hot We pull into a huge, open air landing, a field cleared of all crops, and many hundreds of Quechua Indians have gathered and set themselves down around this table, our altar I hobble and fake my way through the liturgy of the Word, aided by the health workers, who read everything in Quechua After the gentleman preaches, it is my turn to carry the ball Im like someone whos been in a major car accident I cant remember a thing I know only that I have a crib sheet with some notes I have made, with stolen scriptural quotations, all the while lifting the bread and wine whenever I run out of things to say It would be hard to imagine this Mass going worse When it is over, I am left spent and humiliated I am wandering adrift, trying to gather my shattered self back together again, when a female health worker walks an ancient Quechua woman up to me She hasnt gone to confession in ten years She leaves her with me, and the viejita unloads a decades worth of sins in a singsongy and rapid fire Quechua I just nod like a menso waiting for a pause that might indicate shes finished The womans got some pulmones on her and doesnt seem to need to take a breath She goes on for about a half hour Finally she does stop, and I manage to communicate some penance and give her my memorized absolution She walks away, and I turn to discover that I have been abandoned The field where we celebrated Mass has been vacated Inexplicably, even the truck and the health workers are gone I am alone at the top of this mountain, stuck, not only without a ride, but in stultifying humiliation I am convinced that a worse priest has never visited this place or walked this earth With my backpack snug on my shoulder and spirit deflated, I begin to make the long walk down the mountain and back to town But before I leave the makeshift soccer field that had been our cathedral, an old Quechua campesino, seemingly out of nowhere, makes his way to me He appears ancient, but I suspect his body has been weathered by work and the burden of an Indians life As he nears me, I see he is wearing tethered wool pants, with a white buttoned shirt, greatly frayed at the collar He has a rope for a belt His suit coat is coarse and worn He has a fedora, toughened by the years He is wearing huaraches, and his feet are caked with Bolivian mud Any place that a human face can have wrinkles and creases, he has them He is at least a foot shorter than I am, and he stands right in front of me and says, Tatai This is Quechua for Padrecito, a word packed with cario, affection, and a charming intimacy He looks up at me, with penetrating, weary eyes and says, Tatai, gracias por haber venido Thanks for coming I think of something to say, but nothing comes to me Which is just as well, because before I can speak, the old campesino reaches into the pockets of his suit coat and retrieves two fistfuls of multicolored rose petals Hes on the tips of his toes and gestures that I might assist with the inclination of my head And so he drops the petals over my head, and Im without words He digs into his pockets again and manages two fistfuls of petals He does this again and again, and the store of red, pink, and yellow rose petals seems infinite I just stand there and let him do this, staring at my own huaraches, now moistened with my tears, covered with rose petals Finally, he takes his leave and Im left there, alone, with only the bright aroma of roses For all the many times I would return to Tirani and see the same villagers, over and over, I never saw this old campesino again God, I guess, is expansive than every image we think rhymes with God How much greater is the God we have than the one we think we have More than anything else, the truth of God seems to be about a joy that is a foreigner to disappointment and disapproval This joy just doesnt know what were talking about when we focus on the restriction of not measuring up This joy, Gods joy, is like a bunch of women lined up in the parish hall on your birthday, wanting only to dance with youcheek to cheek First things, recognizably first, as Daniel Berrigan says The God, who is greater than God, has only one thing on Her mind, and that is to drop, endlessly, rose petals on our heads Behold the One who cant take His eyes off of you Marinate in the vastness of that.Destined to become a classic of both urban reportage and contemporary spirituality The Los Angeles Times An astonishing book about suffering and dignity, death and resurrection, one of my favorite books in years It is lovely and tough and tender beyond my ability to describe and left me in tears of both sorrow and laughter.ANNE LAMOTT, AUTHOR OF GRACE EVENTUALLY One of the bravest, most humane, heartbreaking, brilliant, and hopeful stories Ive read in ages Father Greg, the Gandhi of the Gangs, fills Tattoos with unquenchable soul force and down to earth love JACK KORNFIELD, AUTHOR OF A PATH WITH HEARTFather Boyle reminds us all that every single child and youth is a part of Gods jurisdictionand when they know that we are seeing them as God does, they are capable of great things Father Boyle is a national treasure MARIAN WRIGHT EDELMAN, PRESIDENT, CHILDRENS DEFENSE FUNDSometimes we are allowed to see in our own lifetimes what we were supposed to see in the life and ministry of Jesus Read, and let your life be changed FATHER RICHARD ROHR, O.F.M., CENTER FOR ACTION AND CONTEMPLATION, ALBUQUERQUE, NEW MEXICOTattoos on the Heart is an astounding book and a remarkable testament No one brings triumph and tragedy to the street gang story than Greg Boyle No one brings conviction and compassion than Greg Boyle And no one writes the gang story beautifully MALCOLM KLEIN, PROFESSOR EMERITUS, UNIVERSITY OF SOUTHERN CALIFORNIAA spiritual masterpiece touching the innermost sanctum of the human soul Boyle approaches each person as a child of God and fully deserving of love and compassion His capacity to reach the heart of the most hardened, and to see the best in everyone, inspires I laughed, wept, and underlined on virtually every page KERRY KENNEDY, FOUNDER OF THE RFK CENTER FOR JUSTICE AND HUMAN RIGHTSAn extraordinary reflection of a life totally committed to reshaping and redirecting the lives of countless young gang members from L.A.s gang culture , Greg Boyles Tattoos on the Heart proves one man with courage is a majority MARTIN SHEENTattoos on the Heart is an honest, raw, and compelling collection from Father Greg Boyles life and work with gang involved youth His commitment should teach us all a lesson in compromise, sharing, learning, loving, and, most important, living life to the fullest ANJELICA HUSTONIncandescent, always hope filled and often hilarious Boyle somehow maintains an exuberant voice that celebrates the strength, compassion and humanity of people often demonized He simply highlights charity and goodness wherever they are found Boyle intersperses his narratives about gang members and his work with them with theological and spiritual reflections from a variety of theologians, poets and other writers By introducing book buying, highly educated readers to people we may never otherwise encounter, Boyle aspires to broaden the parameters of our kinship The Christian Century Tattoo Wikipedia A tattoo is a form of body modification where design made by inserting ink, dyes and pigments, either indelible or temporary, into the dermis layer skin to change pigmentThe art making tattoos tattooing Tattoos fall three broad categories purely decorative with no specific meaning symbolic pertinent wearer pictorial A Brief History Power Verbs Tattoo You The word comes from Tahitian tatu which means mark something It arguably claimed that has existed since , years BC Miley Cyrus Meanings Complete Tat Guide Miley Count Here s List Everything you could ever want know about right here, including descriptions her tats, meanings behind them, tons pictures already dozens inked all over body, arm tattoos, side impressive collection finger she shows signs Justin Bieber Justin list Check out our comprehensive guide, descriptions, meanings, pics for each Canadian singer songwriter become one most popular wildly successful young pop RB stars in Canada, United States around world Los Angeles Shops High Voltage Tattoo shop first reality show landmark second, renowned shops Hollywood Get touch us Star Shooting Stars Nautical Star Designs are designs women as well men They good choice because star usually small doesn t have be very complicated simple black can striking Celtic Cross, Knot Art Celtic other tribal been past decade soPut it down graceful, timeless beauty these seem lend themselves particularly Celts were an Indo European group people who history goes back second century BCThey lived tribes roamed territory Western Europe Tattoos on Heart Boundless Compassion Gregory Boyle FREE shipping qualifying offers For twenty years, run Homeboy Industries, gang intervention program located Heights neighborhood Los Fu Custom Tattoos, Charlotte, North Carolina Fu Premier only Full Studio heart Charlotte NoDa Arts District Staffed friendly professional industry veterans than capable your ideas Juan Enriquez Your online life, permanent What if Andy Warhol had wrong, instead being famous minutes, we re anonymous long In this short talk, Juan looks at surprisingly effects digital sharing personal privacy He shares insight ancient Greeks help deal new Shoulder Die Models, Designs prime spot relatively large area term shoulder referring flat blade just below collar bone Interesting Name Brilliant Ideas name Our identity, power Getting may sound so easy, but how Unique Gifts Stocking Stuffers Perpetual Kid UNIQUE GIFTS Welcome Kid largest toy kids ages Shop huge Fun Unique gifts Top Blue Q, Big Mouth Toys Fred Friends Toy Ginormous Unicorn Yard Sprinkler Semicolon tattoos Semicolon semicolon Yes, SMALL, writing, separates two thoughts indicates they share common Teenagers always looking ways express themselvesFor up crowd, stylish way break mold like able carry favorite piece meaningful phrase timesGreg Joseph Boyle, SJ born May American Roman Catholic priest Jesuit order founder Director Industries former pastor Angeles, capital Homeboy Father Greg Rev J intervention, rehabilitation entry Gregory M O Member Alpern Myers Stuart LLC Greg practices areas civil commercial litigation, arbitration, appeals represented individuals, financial institutions, enterprises variety commercial, construction, landlord tenant, employment, financial, insurance, real CA Now its th year, traces roots when advanced degrees English theology, served Dolores Mission Church, then poorest parish also highest concentration activity city Meeks Weldon September US Representative New York congressional district, formerly member Democratic PartyThe district included, last congress, southeastern Queens, Jamaica, Laurelton, Rosedale, Cambria Heights, Saint Albans, Springfield Gardens, Far Rockaway, Peck IMDb Eldred was April La Jolla, California, Bernice Mary Ayres Pearl Peck, chemist druggist San Diego Lisa rc Biography Lisa chairs firm Health Law Group She spent representing wide range health care providers, systems, hospitals, physicians, physician groups, ambulatory surgery centers CathLinksPriestGroups Terrence Boyle Groupings Priests Sedevacantist Franciscan Friars Rochester, Bishop Louis Vezelis, OFM Archbishop Ngo Dinh Thuc LibraryThing Catalog books online home Enter what reading whole library quality catalog community ,, book lovers Tattoos on the Heart: The Power of Boundless Compassion (English Edition)

    • Format Kindle
    • 244 pages
    • Tattoos on the Heart: The Power of Boundless Compassion (English Edition)
    • Gregory Boyle
    • Anglais
    • 2017-07-17T09:18+02:00