Meditation On Doin' the Hokey Pokey

"This Is What It's All About At The Marczynski's"

Today’s postcard is about The Hokey Pokey.  There is a story, I am not sure of its veracity, that when the author of The Hokey Pokey, Larry LaPrise, passed away the undertakers had a difficult time putting him in the coffin.  They would put his left leg in and then his left leg would come out; his right arm would go in and then it would go out . . . . But seriously, just maybe there is some deeper meaning to The Hokey Pokey.

After seeing the question, “What if The Hokey Pokey really is what it’s all about?” in a decorative frame in a psychologist’s office I began to wonder what if The Hokey Pokey really is what it’s all about?  Here are a few of the questions I invite you to ponder with me:  
Why do the lyrics never instruct us to “dance” The Hokey Pokey, but rather to “do” The Hokey Pokey?

The lyrics don’t tell us, so how do we know to form a circle when The Hokey Pokey music begins?

How do we know that “doing” the Hokey Pokey means to raise our hands in the air and carelessly twirl all around? Again, the lyrics don’t tell us.

Why is it that when we “do” The Hokey Pokey, we drop all defenses and pretenses and no one ever stops to notice how foolish the whole thing looks?

Why is it that when we get to “put your whole self in and shake it all about,” we do so with wild abandon and, like lemmings marching to the sea, we just do it, because the lyrics tell us to?

Given all of the personal angst these questions and observations have caused me and after spending way too much time thinking about them, I have come to believe that The Hokey Pokey contains a deep secret and lesson for life – "Sometimes The Hokey Pokey really is what it’s all about."  There are things in life that we are asked, or told, to do that don’t make a lot of sense, just like the lyrics of the song.  Sometimes we just have to do stuff without having to be on an endless pursuit for meaning or a never-ending quest to find “what it really is all about.”  Sometimes life is simply about carefree abandonment.  This doesn’t mean surrendering to a life devoid of meaning and purpose, but every now and then we have to appreciate life as simply being something to enjoy without thought and explanation.  Maybe that’s why kids are so good at doing The Hokey Pokey.

So, wherever you are and whatever you are doing, stop right now, close your eyes and start doing The Hokey Pokey, and for at least the next few minutes let “shaking yourself all about” really be “what it’s all about.” 

Gotta go, time for my Hokey Pokey Anonymous meeting – it’s a place to help turn myself around!

Jesus On Ice . . .



Crucifix in the LA Cathedral - R. Marczynski

About 20 years ago I made a Cursillo (meaning "short course"), part of a Catholic movement started in Spain to help Christians “revive” and recommit themselves to their faith.  The movement has spread to other denominations, referred to as “The Walk,” or “The Great Harvest.” 

In very simple terms, a Cursillo is an intense 3 day weekend retreat with a series of talks and activities given, for the most part, by lay leaders. I noticed, and was struck by the fact, that as each leader spoke, he held a Crucifix.  It seemed as though by clutching that Crucifix the speaker gained a greater sense of confidence, purpose and peace as they spoke.  At the close of the Cursillo weekend each participant is presented with a small Crucifix.  I carried mine in my pocket where I could feel it throughout the day (I swear sometimes it “poked” me when I was about to do something wrong!). 

A few months after making my Cursillo, a close friend faced a very serious personal and professional crisis that was breaking him.  I told him the story I related above and gave him my Crucifix to carry, hoping it would give him some peace.  My friend and his family made it through the crisis stronger than ever.  I bought another one and we traded, but each of us continued to carry our Crucifix daily. 

A couple years later he told me that it was his habit that when coming home from work each day, he would empty his pockets and put the contents in a little “letter holder” they kept on the top of their refrigerator.  One morning when he went to get his stuff, he noticed his Crucifix was missing.  He and his family looked around on top of the refrigerator, on the floor, in his pants, in his closet, but could never find it.   A few months later, they were cleaning and defrosting their freezer and there it was - the ice covered Crucifix buried in the back of the freezer.  Obviously, it had somehow fallen out of the letter holder and into the freezer without anyone noticing.  We referred to the experience as putting “Jesus on Ice.”

In a similar vein, one day on a family outing, I reached into my pocket and I couldn’t feel my Crucifix.  It was strange, but I became panicky.  After I made the whole family look for it for about a half an hour, we called off the search.  I took some solace hoping that maybe someone who “needed” it more than I did would find the Crucifix and it would help them through whatever struggles they were facing.  I simply bought another one. 

Over the years, I have lost several Crucifixes and have given some away.  After a while it can be expensive, and time consuming since there isn’t a Crucifix store on every corner, so I took to hooking one on my key chain, but somehow it just wasn’t the same.  So I went back, as often as I could, to carrying one in my pocket.  If I lose one I always hope that whomever finds it will gain the confidence, purpose, or peace that they may need. 

Even though I don’t spend my days paying much attention to it, simply throwing my Crucifix on my desk with the rest of my pocket trash;  it is nice to know that, like my friend,  I have “Jesus On Ice.”   I just need to remember that when I need a little extra boost, I just need brush off the lint from my pocket or let it thaw out and He’s still there – just for me. 

Next time you see a crucifix, think about this postcard and always remember, “Jesus loves you, but He still likes me best!”

Gotta go, I have to look for something.

I Got a Hole in My Soul, but Jesus in My Pocket . . .

Cross Atop Chapel at Franciscan Retreat Center by R. Marczynski

I did not mean my postcards to take necessarily take on a spiritual tone, but it seems that the times I feel I have something worthwhile sharing have been after some “spiritual” experience or insight.  I guess that is a good thing.

I serve as a “Minister to the Sick” and on the second Saturday of each month.  Today, March 8, was my turn to hold a Communion Service at a near-by nursing home and to visit with and distribute Communion to those unable to come to the service.  On some visits it can be a pretty dismal and depressing experience. Yet, I always leave a little more refreshed, if not grateful, and a little more faith-filled.  For these folks, receiving the Eucharist and praying with someone is truly the high point of the week.   It is humbling when someone grabs my hand and looks me in the eyes and keeps repeating, “Thank you for coming. Thank you.”   Their anticipation, joy and the peace that seems to come over them makes me feel a little embarrassed by my personal struggles with my faith and my doubts.  They never take someone coming to pray with them for granted.  For some residents, it literally may be the last time.   In fact, the first time I visited a patient at a nursing home, I found out that the man I visited died that night – I thought I killed him.  I thought, this Ministry to the Sick thing wasn’t starting off too hot.  It was truly humbling to know that I may have been the last person to say a prayer with him.

A Pyx

During the visits the consecrated hosts are carried in a small gold holder called a “pyx” that opens like a pocket watch or a brooch.  I usually go from room to room with the pyx and the consecrated hosts in my pocket.   I was visiting and joking with one of my favorite 95 year-old “girlfriends” one morning before giving her Communion.  I asked her if she was going dancing that night because she looked so good.  Mind you, she can barely get out of bed.  She laughed and said, “Oh, you’re just a big liar.”    I smiled back and asked her, “Now how could I be lying to you with Jesus in my pocket?  That just wouldn’t be right.”  We said a prayer, I gave her Communion, and told her I would see her next month and in the meantime not to go chasing any of the male residents.  She just laughed and waved me out.

As I left one day I thought about having Jesus in my pocket.  Sounds like a line from a country song, “I got a hole in my soul, but Jesus in my pocket!”  I wonder what I would be like and if my faith would be stronger, if every day, I had Jesus in my pocket.  

Gotta go, I have a hole that needs some mending!