Seven.
I wonder what it would be like if my quality of life depended on this number never returning to zero, if this was as important as a recovering alcoholic, drug, or gambling addict abstaining from their addiction? Would it make it easier to stay on track, or harder, if my perceived stakes were greater? Would there be more pressure, a greater longing for what I could never experience again - especially, in my case, for an alleged part of myself that I've denied? Would I depend on God more, or use the addictive dynamic to reinforce my mistaken notions of my nature to an even greater degree?
I think that the brain mechanism of my addiction and others is probably similar. I have always judged that the consequences of mine are less, but Matthew Kelly has revealed the lie behind the common perception that this a personal thing that doesn't matter much.
I also worry that the adversary will use this fresh awareness to set me up for a bigger fall. I don't, for instance, treat this as morally equivalent to eating more than I should - there may be similarities, but it isn't the same thing; after all, you have to eat to live - and I also no longer treat it as no big deal. I am coming to recognize that every temptation we experience is an assault on our identity and our destiny, and we must meet them in the same was that Jesus met his. I know that I am a beloved Son of the Most High who lives by His grace and draws upon His strength in my weakness, and my purpose is to glorify Him with my entire life.
And this is one area in which I have struggled to do so for as long as it has been physiologically possible.
Showing posts with label Matthew Kelly. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Matthew Kelly. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 13, 2018
Thursday, March 01, 2018
What a helpful post
Today's Best Lent Ever post offers me fresh insight into how virtue and character fit into the greater picture of holiness. I think the Desert Fathers and Mothers would caution us about making virtue and character the goal in and of themselves, but I think they'd confirm their importance in greater scheme of living in Christ Jesus.
Tuesday, February 27, 2018
True self vs. false self
Even after sharing on this, just this morning, with a friend, I still manage find myself getting caught up in thoughts and wishes that lead me away from my true identity and my place in God.
Thursday, February 22, 2018
Do the next right thing
In today's Best Lent Ever reflection, Matthew Kelly says this is the approach that truly maximizes our long-term happiness.
I'm trying to decide whether he's full of bovine defecation. I've already been doing this for a really long time.
I'm trying to decide whether he's full of bovine defecation. I've already been doing this for a really long time.
Friday, January 16, 2015
The Two Standards, part 1
When Jesus answers to Satan, “One does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes forth from the mouth of God”, (Lk 4:4 and Mt 4:4, cf. Dt 8:3) it means that he chose to renounce the immediate gratification in order to follow what God’s will was for him. - The Two Standards meditation, 140-142. First Part: The Standard of Satan, the “values” he uses to deceive and seduce all of us
I am not so good at making this choice consistently. I do it pretty well for the bigger things, but there are areas of purity that I miss out on because I indulge in immediately gratifying thoughts instead.
The second temptation of Jesus is to let the power principle dominate his life. The search for power, personal prestige and status, the exploitation of others in order to gain these, and the allure of “honor” is so much widespread phenomenon that Alfred Adler in his “individual psychology” asserted it as the basic drive in life. Although a certain level of self-esteem is necessary for a healthy psyche, the temptation of the power drive misleads us to seek status and honor directly, and the price to pay for it is in destroyed relationships, falsity and deceit. - ibid.
There can be a tricky balance between setting appropriate boundaries for ourselves and trying to exercise power over the lives of others. Sometimes the people around us can feel that we are imposing boundaries or values on them when we are really only setting them for ourselves. It's an important distinction. To keep from being taken advantage of in an unhealthy way, I must sometimes prevent another from taking unhealthy advantage of me. That can feel to them as if I am trying to make a decision for them that they do not wish to make for themselves, when in truth I am truly only making a decision about what is healthy for me. It is important, when we are on the other side of such a decision, not to allow our own wishes to outweigh our respect for the other person by acting in a dishonest way in order to coerce a decision in line with our own wishes. This is especially hard when we feel that we need our lives to be different from how they actually are.
Viktor Frankl pointed out many times that there are several things, like joy and happiness that cannot be willed directly but should come as a by-product of one’s deeds. As the pursuit of happiness does not lead to its fulfillment so is it with the power drive. - ibid.
I've been thinking about this lately. In fact, I have long been convinced that the single greatest obstacle to finding happiness is to pursue it directly. Matthew Kelly propounds that we maximize our happiness by becoming the best version of ourselves, by making physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually healthy choices rather than pursuing happiness for its own sake.
The third temptation of Jesus as Robert C. Leslie points out is to escape from personal responsibility, which is a manifestation of self-sufficiency and pride. Harder to recognize than the other two this temptation is permeating our culture on personal and societal level. It works through the dominance of psychological and sociological determinism. We can excuse our behavior endlessly by past traumas and by what others did or did not. - ibid.
There is so much in these few sentences. First of all, I'm pretty sure that I've never thought of the third temptation quite in these terms, but this makes perfect sense. Jesus is tempted to escape the consequences of a personal decision. The one thing that I am pleased about concerning my initial experience with therapy is that, while I needed to learn the effect that my childhood abuse had on my adulthood decision making, I recognized from the beginning that I was responsible for my choices. No matter how many men may have sexually abused me when I was a kid, I knew that I was responsible for my own adult actions. But this temptation remains so very present in how we respond to stimuli around us, as it is so easy to feel that we have been provoked into our choices.
In reality the future does not depend so much on past experiences as on our conscious decisions in the present. - ibid.
Yes!! Now, it is true that our past may have trained us to make decisions in a way that does not maximize our future growth, but we have the power to recognize that and learn to make our decisions in a different way. But let's say, for instance, that I recognize that I have a tendency to try to fix things for those around me. It does no good to recognize that trait in myself unless I recognize when I am doing that at the expense of others.
Responsibility is an indelible characteristic of human existence and it means that we ought to give a response or an answer for our acts in front of our conscience. In religious terms, we are created beings and we are not self-sufficient but our life is constant gift from God whose creative love we respond to with our existence, choices and acts. - ibid.
Yes, all of our life is our response to God's creative love, in one way or another. I must choose to respond in ways that draw me more deeply into that love, believing that God's plan for my life is more trustworthy than my own wishes, which are subtly tainted by the influence of the standard of Satan in my life and on the world around me.
Okay I haven't even started looking at the reflection on Jesus' standard, but there is just so much in here! The really should have made this initial meditation part of a longer step; one week was just not enough to cover this along with six individual session readings. On the other hand, they do revisit it twice in short order.
I am not so good at making this choice consistently. I do it pretty well for the bigger things, but there are areas of purity that I miss out on because I indulge in immediately gratifying thoughts instead.
The second temptation of Jesus is to let the power principle dominate his life. The search for power, personal prestige and status, the exploitation of others in order to gain these, and the allure of “honor” is so much widespread phenomenon that Alfred Adler in his “individual psychology” asserted it as the basic drive in life. Although a certain level of self-esteem is necessary for a healthy psyche, the temptation of the power drive misleads us to seek status and honor directly, and the price to pay for it is in destroyed relationships, falsity and deceit. - ibid.
There can be a tricky balance between setting appropriate boundaries for ourselves and trying to exercise power over the lives of others. Sometimes the people around us can feel that we are imposing boundaries or values on them when we are really only setting them for ourselves. It's an important distinction. To keep from being taken advantage of in an unhealthy way, I must sometimes prevent another from taking unhealthy advantage of me. That can feel to them as if I am trying to make a decision for them that they do not wish to make for themselves, when in truth I am truly only making a decision about what is healthy for me. It is important, when we are on the other side of such a decision, not to allow our own wishes to outweigh our respect for the other person by acting in a dishonest way in order to coerce a decision in line with our own wishes. This is especially hard when we feel that we need our lives to be different from how they actually are.
Viktor Frankl pointed out many times that there are several things, like joy and happiness that cannot be willed directly but should come as a by-product of one’s deeds. As the pursuit of happiness does not lead to its fulfillment so is it with the power drive. - ibid.
I've been thinking about this lately. In fact, I have long been convinced that the single greatest obstacle to finding happiness is to pursue it directly. Matthew Kelly propounds that we maximize our happiness by becoming the best version of ourselves, by making physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually healthy choices rather than pursuing happiness for its own sake.
The third temptation of Jesus as Robert C. Leslie points out is to escape from personal responsibility, which is a manifestation of self-sufficiency and pride. Harder to recognize than the other two this temptation is permeating our culture on personal and societal level. It works through the dominance of psychological and sociological determinism. We can excuse our behavior endlessly by past traumas and by what others did or did not. - ibid.
There is so much in these few sentences. First of all, I'm pretty sure that I've never thought of the third temptation quite in these terms, but this makes perfect sense. Jesus is tempted to escape the consequences of a personal decision. The one thing that I am pleased about concerning my initial experience with therapy is that, while I needed to learn the effect that my childhood abuse had on my adulthood decision making, I recognized from the beginning that I was responsible for my choices. No matter how many men may have sexually abused me when I was a kid, I knew that I was responsible for my own adult actions. But this temptation remains so very present in how we respond to stimuli around us, as it is so easy to feel that we have been provoked into our choices.
In reality the future does not depend so much on past experiences as on our conscious decisions in the present. - ibid.
Yes!! Now, it is true that our past may have trained us to make decisions in a way that does not maximize our future growth, but we have the power to recognize that and learn to make our decisions in a different way. But let's say, for instance, that I recognize that I have a tendency to try to fix things for those around me. It does no good to recognize that trait in myself unless I recognize when I am doing that at the expense of others.
Responsibility is an indelible characteristic of human existence and it means that we ought to give a response or an answer for our acts in front of our conscience. In religious terms, we are created beings and we are not self-sufficient but our life is constant gift from God whose creative love we respond to with our existence, choices and acts. - ibid.
Yes, all of our life is our response to God's creative love, in one way or another. I must choose to respond in ways that draw me more deeply into that love, believing that God's plan for my life is more trustworthy than my own wishes, which are subtly tainted by the influence of the standard of Satan in my life and on the world around me.
Okay I haven't even started looking at the reflection on Jesus' standard, but there is just so much in here! The really should have made this initial meditation part of a longer step; one week was just not enough to cover this along with six individual session readings. On the other hand, they do revisit it twice in short order.
Sunday, December 29, 2013
Lessons from Nazareth
I'm not going to quote Pope Paul VI directly here, but in today's Office of Readings he mentions three things we should learn from Nazareth. I'm paraphrasing, and maybe referring to others (certainly there's a Matthew Kelly reference here):
- God speaks many lessons to us and gives us growth and maturity in the school of silence, which we cannot receive if we do not come away from the clamoring cacaphony of the world. This is even more true today than it was in the 1960s and '70s when Paul was our holy father. No matter the size of our domestic church, it is too easy for us to become distracted by the noise of daily life. But in that life's rhythm, if we are careful to carve out time for it, there is a quiet transformation that can take place in the midst of the routine, a daily living in love that undergirds and gives context and new meaning to all of it. This will not happen without our conscious participation, if we fail to actively listen for the voice of the Father.
- Family is central to God's plan for each of us.
- Work is valuable, not for its own sake but for its effect on us and in context with the first two lessons. It is not a mere drudgery that we cannot avoid, but a gift God gives us.
Tuesday, December 10, 2013
So why am I here?
Yeah, yeah, I know: it's the central question of humankind's existential search for meaning. And I know the Baltimore Catechism answer (question 6), and embrace it. It packs a lot of truth into a few words - words that are worth taking some time to unpack more fully, actually. Other writers have done so, including Matthew Kelly, who uses it as a launching point in his excellent "essential purpose" discussions. That's not what I had in mind when I started this post, but now that I've started writing, I imagine it's going to turn out to be exactly where God is taking me with it. The title is a reflection on my response to today's Office of Readings. But let's start with a lengthy detour:
The Liturgy of the Hours is a treasure of the Church, opportunities to pray throughout the course of the day that set up a rhythm of prayer for our lives. With that hearty endorsement out of the way, I must confess that the only part of the Hours I have ever managed to pray with any regularity at all is the Office of Readings. I fell in love with this "hour" when I first visited the Abbey of Gethsemani, where they pray it under its ancient name of Vigils at 3:15 a.m. I found it was a treasure worth setting the alarm for, though I never could convince most of my fellow retreatants to join me, either then or on subsequent weekends. When praying it on my own, I just start my day with it rather than getting up in the middle of the night. In fact, the recommendation for the Office of Readings is that it should be prayed whenever the course of one's day allows sufficient time to soak in it, rather than at a specified time each day. But the thing that is most different about this hour compared to the more familiar Morning and Evening Prayer is that in addition to the Psalms, which are a part of each hour, there are two rather lengthy readings. The first is a scriptural reading, and throughout the Advent season it seems that it is mainly taken from the book of the prophet Isaiah. These largely deal with God's promise to care for Israel and to nurture his people and provide a Savior, and the people's longing for that promise to be fulfilled. This is one reason I find this hour so particularly wonderful during Advent, and there tends to be a similarly appropriate thematic focus during Lent, too. This reading is way longer than the short readings used during Morning and Evening Prayer, and is generally longer even than we typically get at Mass, except maybe for the gospels during the last weeks of Lent.
But the part of the Office of Readings that I love the best is the second reading each day. This is an extra-canonical reading of similar length from some source outside of scripture. Frequently it is taken from a sermon or letter by one of the early church fathers, a thematically-related section from an encyclical, or a writing from one of the Doctors of the Church. These readings often give lie to the idea that because we have advanced so greatly in the realms of technology and science we have also grown wiser. Indeed, the least insightful and nourishing of these readings tend to be the ones from the past century, though I find that these also contain great truth, even when they are a reiteration of things I already know. I have a tendency, though, after one of these more modern readings or even one of the older ones that is mostly a series of brief expansions on some of the phrases within a famous scripture passage, to feel a little unfulfilled and even disappointed.
Such was the case this morning (he observes, as he finally starts coming back around to the point!) with a reading from Second Vatican Council documents. Even as I nodded my head in agreement with what it was saying, I felt as if the Church had somehow let me down a little by not giving me better material to reflect on this morning. Fortunately, this self-absorbed initial response soon yielded - by the Holy Spirit, I can only surmise - to a stock-taking of what this daily prayer time is really all about. For the purpose of such prayer time is not primarily to make us feel as if we have been touched by divinely inspired insight, nor to expand our mind with a deeper understanding of God. I mean, in the eternal scheme of things, no matter how much we learn about God in this life, the ratio of what we don't know about God to what we do know doesn't change (the infinite divided by any finite x is still infinite). We should, of course, strive to know God, but that is ultimately not a head knowledge but a relationship knowledge - to know in the truly biblical sense, in the same intimate way (only, obviously, not as completely) as God knows us - and that is why I am here in the morning: to simply spend some time in the presence of the One who loves me perfectly. As a result I become more equipped to recognize him when I encounter him through the course of the day, to bear his love into others' lives.
So I am not here in the light of this wreath to wonder anew at a fresh piece of insight, but to have my whole life illumined by God, to simply begin the day in God's presence, to breathe in the Breath of Heaven, to allow God to draw me more fully into eternal Love, for God is Love. This reality is independent of - and far more important than - whether I feel as if the process has taken place because some inspired piece of brilliance has impressed me.
The Liturgy of the Hours is a treasure of the Church, opportunities to pray throughout the course of the day that set up a rhythm of prayer for our lives. With that hearty endorsement out of the way, I must confess that the only part of the Hours I have ever managed to pray with any regularity at all is the Office of Readings. I fell in love with this "hour" when I first visited the Abbey of Gethsemani, where they pray it under its ancient name of Vigils at 3:15 a.m. I found it was a treasure worth setting the alarm for, though I never could convince most of my fellow retreatants to join me, either then or on subsequent weekends. When praying it on my own, I just start my day with it rather than getting up in the middle of the night. In fact, the recommendation for the Office of Readings is that it should be prayed whenever the course of one's day allows sufficient time to soak in it, rather than at a specified time each day. But the thing that is most different about this hour compared to the more familiar Morning and Evening Prayer is that in addition to the Psalms, which are a part of each hour, there are two rather lengthy readings. The first is a scriptural reading, and throughout the Advent season it seems that it is mainly taken from the book of the prophet Isaiah. These largely deal with God's promise to care for Israel and to nurture his people and provide a Savior, and the people's longing for that promise to be fulfilled. This is one reason I find this hour so particularly wonderful during Advent, and there tends to be a similarly appropriate thematic focus during Lent, too. This reading is way longer than the short readings used during Morning and Evening Prayer, and is generally longer even than we typically get at Mass, except maybe for the gospels during the last weeks of Lent.
But the part of the Office of Readings that I love the best is the second reading each day. This is an extra-canonical reading of similar length from some source outside of scripture. Frequently it is taken from a sermon or letter by one of the early church fathers, a thematically-related section from an encyclical, or a writing from one of the Doctors of the Church. These readings often give lie to the idea that because we have advanced so greatly in the realms of technology and science we have also grown wiser. Indeed, the least insightful and nourishing of these readings tend to be the ones from the past century, though I find that these also contain great truth, even when they are a reiteration of things I already know. I have a tendency, though, after one of these more modern readings or even one of the older ones that is mostly a series of brief expansions on some of the phrases within a famous scripture passage, to feel a little unfulfilled and even disappointed.
Such was the case this morning (he observes, as he finally starts coming back around to the point!) with a reading from Second Vatican Council documents. Even as I nodded my head in agreement with what it was saying, I felt as if the Church had somehow let me down a little by not giving me better material to reflect on this morning. Fortunately, this self-absorbed initial response soon yielded - by the Holy Spirit, I can only surmise - to a stock-taking of what this daily prayer time is really all about. For the purpose of such prayer time is not primarily to make us feel as if we have been touched by divinely inspired insight, nor to expand our mind with a deeper understanding of God. I mean, in the eternal scheme of things, no matter how much we learn about God in this life, the ratio of what we don't know about God to what we do know doesn't change (the infinite divided by any finite x is still infinite). We should, of course, strive to know God, but that is ultimately not a head knowledge but a relationship knowledge - to know in the truly biblical sense, in the same intimate way (only, obviously, not as completely) as God knows us - and that is why I am here in the morning: to simply spend some time in the presence of the One who loves me perfectly. As a result I become more equipped to recognize him when I encounter him through the course of the day, to bear his love into others' lives.
So I am not here in the light of this wreath to wonder anew at a fresh piece of insight, but to have my whole life illumined by God, to simply begin the day in God's presence, to breathe in the Breath of Heaven, to allow God to draw me more fully into eternal Love, for God is Love. This reality is independent of - and far more important than - whether I feel as if the process has taken place because some inspired piece of brilliance has impressed me.
Sunday, February 17, 2013
Thought from retreat
Near the beginning of the day, our regional liaison for the charismatic renewal was sharing some thoughts from Pope Benedict's document on the current Year of Faith, and some other thoughts from the Holy Father's Ash Wednesday homily. I'm not sure which of these was the source for the thought that caught my attention and resonated for me: the idea that the Eucharist is the summit of worship. I know plenty of people who believe that social outreach ministry is a higher calling.
I'm sure I must have written before against a popular approach to our faith that has begun to dominate over the past century: that its chief value is in how it moves us to be a force for social change in the world. In Catholic circles, the theology behind this thought is sometimes summed up very briefly in a very reasonable sounding idea, "The Eucharist is created for us, not vice versa." I had a former pastor, whom I love dearly, who was fond of quoting this as he opposed any excesses, as he understood them, in Eucharistic adoration. But there are a couple of truths which get mixed up in this misunderstanding, and of these, the first is probably the one that most gets at the root cause of the error.
It is the failure to fully understand that the Holy Eucharist is Jesus Christ.
Of course, it is ridiculous to suggest that any of us fully understands this. Only when we participate fully in the heavenly banquet for all eternity will we begin to approach this level of knowledge of God. Yet even understanding to the smallest extent that, in ways we do not fully understand, the Eucharist is Jesus Christ, leads us to understand that we were indeed created for the Eucharist - though not to meet His needs, for He has none. And this is where those who use that phrase have it right, for indeed the Eucharist was instituted to meet our need for spiritual food. Done right, worshiping the Lord in the Eucharist is a key element of eating his Body and drinking his Blood. (More on which aspect of Christ's body was created/instituted for which in a bit.)
First, though, is the thing that this modern theology usually gets right when its adherents lament the practice of regular Eucharistic adoration (an objection which they have wrong, in most cases). They point out that the traditionalists' emphasis on reverence for the consecrated elements in the context of the Mass often comes at the expense of a recognition that Christ is just as really present in the assembled Body as in the Eucharistic elements of the Body and the Blood. They are often right about this, yet the one ought not come at the expense of the other. In this sense, it is true that we and the Eucharist have indeed been created and instituted for each other. According to God's plan for us, we do not become his Body - and individually parts of it - to the degree God intends unless we are fed by the spiritual food, in which Christ gives us himself as the nourishment we most need.
So my chief objection to the phrase as it seems (to me) to be misused is in its implication that the purpose of the Eucharist is to equip us for the social outreach that many mistakenly consider the "real purpose" of Christianity. Indeed, this viewpoint holds that the chief purpose of our worship is to make us the best version of ourselves - itself a concept on which Matthew Kelly has written extensively that is worth investing our energy and effort into - so that we might go forth and do what we're really supposed to be about. The truth of the matter is that we frequently put too little effort into the things that God might have us do, but the purpose of our relationship with God is not for us to do those things. Rather, a relationship with God is the greatest good our lives will ever know, and inevitably when it is all that it should be it leads to our transformation - which is of course a good thing - and our social outreach - which is also a good thing.
And yet to say that our personal growth or our social ministry is the purpose of our relationship with God gets the two greatest commandments out of order. Jesus said that the greatest commandment was to love the Lord our God with all of our heart, soul, mind and strength, and that the second is like it: to love our neighbor as ourselves. Now, these two are inextricably linked for us, but their linking does not make the second commandment equal to the first.
Of course, God is love, and all who live in love live in God, and it is impossible to love God without loving our neighbor. And if we love our neighbor rightly, we will enter more deeply into our relationship with God in the process. So maybe this whole megapost is just an arguing of unimportant semantics.
And yet it seems to me that I see way more people lose their perspective on the truth by focusing on service of others and trying to let their spirituality flow from that than by focusing on worshiping God (though perhaps I've just been blessed by being around true believers). Putting service ahead of worship puts us at risk of despairing over the injustice we perceive in our neighbors' suffering. Worshiping first reminds us that God is God, and we, though his Body, are not God. We are his presence in the world, yet in God's infinite eternity he remains greater than any finite collection of our finite minds can fathom. It is certainly possible to go through the rituals of worship without entering into a true relationship with God in the process, but then the lack of fruit - the absence of transformation and service - eventually becomes evident.
I'm sure I must have written before against a popular approach to our faith that has begun to dominate over the past century: that its chief value is in how it moves us to be a force for social change in the world. In Catholic circles, the theology behind this thought is sometimes summed up very briefly in a very reasonable sounding idea, "The Eucharist is created for us, not vice versa." I had a former pastor, whom I love dearly, who was fond of quoting this as he opposed any excesses, as he understood them, in Eucharistic adoration. But there are a couple of truths which get mixed up in this misunderstanding, and of these, the first is probably the one that most gets at the root cause of the error.
It is the failure to fully understand that the Holy Eucharist is Jesus Christ.
Of course, it is ridiculous to suggest that any of us fully understands this. Only when we participate fully in the heavenly banquet for all eternity will we begin to approach this level of knowledge of God. Yet even understanding to the smallest extent that, in ways we do not fully understand, the Eucharist is Jesus Christ, leads us to understand that we were indeed created for the Eucharist - though not to meet His needs, for He has none. And this is where those who use that phrase have it right, for indeed the Eucharist was instituted to meet our need for spiritual food. Done right, worshiping the Lord in the Eucharist is a key element of eating his Body and drinking his Blood. (More on which aspect of Christ's body was created/instituted for which in a bit.)
First, though, is the thing that this modern theology usually gets right when its adherents lament the practice of regular Eucharistic adoration (an objection which they have wrong, in most cases). They point out that the traditionalists' emphasis on reverence for the consecrated elements in the context of the Mass often comes at the expense of a recognition that Christ is just as really present in the assembled Body as in the Eucharistic elements of the Body and the Blood. They are often right about this, yet the one ought not come at the expense of the other. In this sense, it is true that we and the Eucharist have indeed been created and instituted for each other. According to God's plan for us, we do not become his Body - and individually parts of it - to the degree God intends unless we are fed by the spiritual food, in which Christ gives us himself as the nourishment we most need.
So my chief objection to the phrase as it seems (to me) to be misused is in its implication that the purpose of the Eucharist is to equip us for the social outreach that many mistakenly consider the "real purpose" of Christianity. Indeed, this viewpoint holds that the chief purpose of our worship is to make us the best version of ourselves - itself a concept on which Matthew Kelly has written extensively that is worth investing our energy and effort into - so that we might go forth and do what we're really supposed to be about. The truth of the matter is that we frequently put too little effort into the things that God might have us do, but the purpose of our relationship with God is not for us to do those things. Rather, a relationship with God is the greatest good our lives will ever know, and inevitably when it is all that it should be it leads to our transformation - which is of course a good thing - and our social outreach - which is also a good thing.
And yet to say that our personal growth or our social ministry is the purpose of our relationship with God gets the two greatest commandments out of order. Jesus said that the greatest commandment was to love the Lord our God with all of our heart, soul, mind and strength, and that the second is like it: to love our neighbor as ourselves. Now, these two are inextricably linked for us, but their linking does not make the second commandment equal to the first.
Of course, God is love, and all who live in love live in God, and it is impossible to love God without loving our neighbor. And if we love our neighbor rightly, we will enter more deeply into our relationship with God in the process. So maybe this whole megapost is just an arguing of unimportant semantics.
And yet it seems to me that I see way more people lose their perspective on the truth by focusing on service of others and trying to let their spirituality flow from that than by focusing on worshiping God (though perhaps I've just been blessed by being around true believers). Putting service ahead of worship puts us at risk of despairing over the injustice we perceive in our neighbors' suffering. Worshiping first reminds us that God is God, and we, though his Body, are not God. We are his presence in the world, yet in God's infinite eternity he remains greater than any finite collection of our finite minds can fathom. It is certainly possible to go through the rituals of worship without entering into a true relationship with God in the process, but then the lack of fruit - the absence of transformation and service - eventually becomes evident.
Thursday, September 13, 2012
Invoking Matthew Kelly
We can never get enough of what we don't really need.
The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.
In our striving to be happy, Matthew Kelly points out, we often elevate to the status of need that which is not truly a need. When we do, we just can't get enough of it, and often enter into addiction, whether to a substance or a habit, a mode of being or way of thinking, an emotional state or a dysfunctional relationship. There can be a wide variety of things we embrace that are a form of elevating a desire to the status of need, and we should be on the watch against this tendency.
On the other hand are our legitimate needs. As with so much of life, we tend toward a pair of antipodal mistakes with regard to them. With regard to some of our legitimate needs, we spend so much time fretting about them that we interfere with them or with other legitimate needs in our lives. We have no trust in God to provide what we truly need by any other means but our own efforts, embracing the adage that "God helps those who help themselves," certain that its inverse is true as well. So we end up spending inordinate amounts of time and energy on those things that God would have us trust in him for (after doing our part), often to the detriment of things that only we can do anything about. These things we often neglect for the sake of the things we consider more important, or at least more urgent.
All of which is a long way of observing that I sure haven't made much time for prayer lately, and maybe I should be doing that instead of writing.
The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.
In our striving to be happy, Matthew Kelly points out, we often elevate to the status of need that which is not truly a need. When we do, we just can't get enough of it, and often enter into addiction, whether to a substance or a habit, a mode of being or way of thinking, an emotional state or a dysfunctional relationship. There can be a wide variety of things we embrace that are a form of elevating a desire to the status of need, and we should be on the watch against this tendency.
On the other hand are our legitimate needs. As with so much of life, we tend toward a pair of antipodal mistakes with regard to them. With regard to some of our legitimate needs, we spend so much time fretting about them that we interfere with them or with other legitimate needs in our lives. We have no trust in God to provide what we truly need by any other means but our own efforts, embracing the adage that "God helps those who help themselves," certain that its inverse is true as well. So we end up spending inordinate amounts of time and energy on those things that God would have us trust in him for (after doing our part), often to the detriment of things that only we can do anything about. These things we often neglect for the sake of the things we consider more important, or at least more urgent.
All of which is a long way of observing that I sure haven't made much time for prayer lately, and maybe I should be doing that instead of writing.
Monday, July 30, 2012
Revelatory questions
Could it be that questions tell us more than answers ever do? - Michael Card, Could it Be?
Sometimes they do, if we pay enough attention to them. I have a friend who just publicly wondered why, years after moving into her current home, she is just now unpacking some boxes. I think she's likely to find an answer to what caused her to be doing so now, and she might find therein a surface answer to why she hasn't done so previously.
But the reasons beyond the surface are probably worthy of a bit of her consideration, not in the sense of revealing any major personality flaw, but in the sense of "how we learn to be the best-version-of-ourselves in small ways." It's the small choices that each of us makes daily which most often stunt our growth and thereby serve as the greatest barriers to us in our lives and our relationships.
And that's as true for me as for anyone.
Sometimes they do, if we pay enough attention to them. I have a friend who just publicly wondered why, years after moving into her current home, she is just now unpacking some boxes. I think she's likely to find an answer to what caused her to be doing so now, and she might find therein a surface answer to why she hasn't done so previously.
But the reasons beyond the surface are probably worthy of a bit of her consideration, not in the sense of revealing any major personality flaw, but in the sense of "how we learn to be the best-version-of-ourselves in small ways." It's the small choices that each of us makes daily which most often stunt our growth and thereby serve as the greatest barriers to us in our lives and our relationships.
And that's as true for me as for anyone.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Musings, hopefully turned useful
Sometimes I find myself spending entirely too much time considering things like this:
2. Suppose a couple has spent decades of their life with one primary strength that has come easily to them and sustained their relationship through turmoil. Even when they have - by choice or circumstance, and mutually or unilaterally - stepped away from that area for a while, it has been a harbor to which they ultimately relished returning. Everything else good about their relationship has been something that one or the other of them has had to work at, sometimes quite hard. Then suppose that, for reasons completely beyond either of their control, that one strength is taken away from them, very possibly forever.
That thing that has always come so naturally seemed to serve as patching cement for the cracks that have occurred through the years, but maybe it has become so prevalent as to cause them to wonder whether it has become the chief material on which their life is built. It may then be revealed to have been mere filler, not able to serve as a strong undergirding for their house. In fact, this is likely if it has been anything other than their commitment to become, each of them, the best version of him- or herself, the reflection of Christ's presence in the world.
If that happens, it seems to me that they'd better both be ready to jump into some serious structural work. But they should be relieved, and count themselves most fortunate, if some of those areas over which they've previously labored, individually and jointly, have in fact formed a stronger foundation for them than that one area ever was on its own.
- Am I am the lowest priority in your life?
- Is there any thing in your life, any activity to which you give your time, which matters less to you than taking care of our home and nurturing our life?
- Is there anything that you would just think on your own that it might be nice to move around in your schedule so that we can just spend some quality time together instead?
- What do I need to do to be the person I want to be, in the way that best helps us become the couple I want us to be, too?
Two unrelated thoughts in this regard:
1. The corollary to "you can't forgive someone for being who they are," has got to be "you can't expect anyone to change in the ways you wish they would." Of course, we're all going to change. The essence of life is change. "You're not the person I married" has to be the most self-evident statement ever made, even if what we really mean more often is, "You're not the person I thought I married."
While it's true, as Matthew Kelly says, that the essence of Christianity is change, it's a particular type of change that is the core of our faith. But our journey through time is a series of changes from one moment to the next, with the large ones we focus on being made up of a series of smaller ones that we can't even perceive. Here's the rub: I can never expect the changes that another accepts and embraces to be the ones I would choose for them, even if my desire to do so isn't chiefly my own self-interest, which I think it too often is for most of us.
While it's true, as Matthew Kelly says, that the essence of Christianity is change, it's a particular type of change that is the core of our faith. But our journey through time is a series of changes from one moment to the next, with the large ones we focus on being made up of a series of smaller ones that we can't even perceive. Here's the rub: I can never expect the changes that another accepts and embraces to be the ones I would choose for them, even if my desire to do so isn't chiefly my own self-interest, which I think it too often is for most of us.
That thing that has always come so naturally seemed to serve as patching cement for the cracks that have occurred through the years, but maybe it has become so prevalent as to cause them to wonder whether it has become the chief material on which their life is built. It may then be revealed to have been mere filler, not able to serve as a strong undergirding for their house. In fact, this is likely if it has been anything other than their commitment to become, each of them, the best version of him- or herself, the reflection of Christ's presence in the world.
If that happens, it seems to me that they'd better both be ready to jump into some serious structural work. But they should be relieved, and count themselves most fortunate, if some of those areas over which they've previously labored, individually and jointly, have in fact formed a stronger foundation for them than that one area ever was on its own.
Friday, February 17, 2012
Settling
A letter writer to an advice column that I read regularly (with a careful filter) was agonizing over a boyfriend vs. crush dilemma. She felt she might be settling for the former and cheating herself out of a more fulfilling relationship with the latter, partly out of a fear that she might end up an unloved old maid (my words, not hers, but not a stretch by any means).
The columnist's put was that, just as she wouldn't want to spend her whole life as someone whom her partner simply settled for, always wondering whether he should have chosen someone else instead of her, likewise she should grant him the respect of not living their lives with him in that role.
There is a world full of wrong reasons for which people end up together, and a lot of questions that someone in the midst of making that sort of decision might need to consider:
The columnist's put was that, just as she wouldn't want to spend her whole life as someone whom her partner simply settled for, always wondering whether he should have chosen someone else instead of her, likewise she should grant him the respect of not living their lives with him in that role.
There is a world full of wrong reasons for which people end up together, and a lot of questions that someone in the midst of making that sort of decision might need to consider:
- can I break this mental trap of feeling as if I'm settling for a relationship with you?
- how long should we try to make the best of this relationship, to see how it develops?
- is there a point at which I owe it to you to let you move on and find someone who can love you without looking back over their shoulder?
- how can I best kill off the nagging voice of dissatisfaction?
- how do I go about dying to my selfishness and loving you with all I have?
- how can we help each other become the best versions of ourselves?
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Blue Advent
Woe to those who go down to Egypt for help, who depend upon horses;I think we have become a society who has come to depend on the gifts of this world rather than accepting them as God's providence for us and continuing to depend on him. We seek the best answer that the available resources seem to present, rather than doing what we know to be God's will for us and trusting that the resources we need to do it will be there.
Who put their trust in chariots because of their number, and in horsemen because of their combined power,
But look not to the Holy One of Israel nor seek the Lord! - . - Is 31, 1-3
I'm not advocating reckless abandon. Taking stock is prudent. Yet sometimes we do what we know to be wrong because we can't trust enough to do what we know to be right. We look everywhere else for answers first, rather than looking to God first and then looking around to see the resources God provides for us to do as he reveals. And we seek our joy in the blessings around us, making them an end in themselves rather than a means to draw us closer to the One who provides every blessing.
I don't have anyone else in mind as I reflect on this. I just think that this may be the part of my present ennui.
Matthew Kelly has said that we can never get enough of what we don't really need. Maybe it's that we can never get enough of anything, of any combination of finite things, to which we may be looking instead of our infinitely loving God, who is in fact what we need.
Advent is a time of longing, and each year I embrace its tone. It looks as if I have finally entered the season.
Wednesday, July 06, 2011
Coping with changes
This post is probably best considered a follow-up to my last one.
We've probably all heard - though hopefully not firsthand! - the clichéd lament invoked at the end of a marriage: "You're just not the person I married anymore."
Well, of course not! All of life is change. The type of changes we undergo is what distinguishes the living from the inanimate, and the specific changes we experience are part of what makes even two genetically identical people different from each other. When you come right down to it, it's the series of changes that we encounter one moment at a time that ultimately defines our life. I'm amazed at how many couples enter marriage with two antipodal expectations. We never want any of the things we love about our partner to change, yet we expect any negative characteristics to change for the better. Personally, I find that the ways in which my bride has changed have resulted in her growing into a much better version of herself (in Matthew Kelly's words) than she was at the outset of our life together. But it's also true that many of the changes that are manifest in us are not for the better. As we grow more at ease in our relationship and let our guard down, we may be more comfortable making choices that don't make for such a positive home environment, that are not such pleasant experiences for the people we love. Dealing with these sorts of changes in a way that is still nurturing and loving, rather than enabling, presents a whole other set of challenges.
But what about when the changes aren't in my partner, but in me? For instance, I know people who have come to conclude, after some amount of time in their marriage, that they're interested in things that they mostly don't share in common with their spouse. Some have reached the conclusion that they've really been attracted to other members their own gender all along. (While it might not seem as if that's a change, their realization that this is the case certainly is, and would seem an unsolvable obstacle to the preservation of the marital relationship. Or perhaps the change is more an unwillingness to subjugate that part of themselves to the needs of their marriage partner any longer. I'm not trying to debate here what is the right resolution to this quandary.) Even what would seem more beneficial changes can be more disruptive than one might think, depending on the emotional environment in which they occur. In my own marriage, for a time the development of my spirituality seemed to distance me from my bride, and it took me years to become emotionally ready to deal with the underlying issues between us that this revealed. In the intervening time I also underwent some very negative changes, which ultimately led to the more positive ones I needed to make all along.
Though sometimes the changes we experience are due to circumstances beyond our control, many of the changes that we undergo are the result of decisions we make - often minor, sometimes monumental. In either case, consciously deciding how to respond to them within the context of our marital relationship will be the chief thing that determines whether these changes separate us or bring us closer. I am convinced that if I develop the habit of making these choices in the way that is most loving to my wife, the resulting changes will be facilitate our union rather than obstructing it.
I suppose my point is that change is inevitable in both members of a marriage, and preserving our relationship as we each become very different from the people we were when we made our vows, well, it takes a real commitment to loving each other. It helps to remember that, no matter how drastic the changes we undergo, for each of us the soul of our person-hood remains present, hopefully growing into the best version of ourselves along the way.
Learning to love my bride as she and I both experience life's changes is ultimately a great joy.
Well, of course not! All of life is change. The type of changes we undergo is what distinguishes the living from the inanimate, and the specific changes we experience are part of what makes even two genetically identical people different from each other. When you come right down to it, it's the series of changes that we encounter one moment at a time that ultimately defines our life. I'm amazed at how many couples enter marriage with two antipodal expectations. We never want any of the things we love about our partner to change, yet we expect any negative characteristics to change for the better. Personally, I find that the ways in which my bride has changed have resulted in her growing into a much better version of herself (in Matthew Kelly's words) than she was at the outset of our life together. But it's also true that many of the changes that are manifest in us are not for the better. As we grow more at ease in our relationship and let our guard down, we may be more comfortable making choices that don't make for such a positive home environment, that are not such pleasant experiences for the people we love. Dealing with these sorts of changes in a way that is still nurturing and loving, rather than enabling, presents a whole other set of challenges.
But what about when the changes aren't in my partner, but in me? For instance, I know people who have come to conclude, after some amount of time in their marriage, that they're interested in things that they mostly don't share in common with their spouse. Some have reached the conclusion that they've really been attracted to other members their own gender all along. (While it might not seem as if that's a change, their realization that this is the case certainly is, and would seem an unsolvable obstacle to the preservation of the marital relationship. Or perhaps the change is more an unwillingness to subjugate that part of themselves to the needs of their marriage partner any longer. I'm not trying to debate here what is the right resolution to this quandary.) Even what would seem more beneficial changes can be more disruptive than one might think, depending on the emotional environment in which they occur. In my own marriage, for a time the development of my spirituality seemed to distance me from my bride, and it took me years to become emotionally ready to deal with the underlying issues between us that this revealed. In the intervening time I also underwent some very negative changes, which ultimately led to the more positive ones I needed to make all along.
Though sometimes the changes we experience are due to circumstances beyond our control, many of the changes that we undergo are the result of decisions we make - often minor, sometimes monumental. In either case, consciously deciding how to respond to them within the context of our marital relationship will be the chief thing that determines whether these changes separate us or bring us closer. I am convinced that if I develop the habit of making these choices in the way that is most loving to my wife, the resulting changes will be facilitate our union rather than obstructing it.
I suppose my point is that change is inevitable in both members of a marriage, and preserving our relationship as we each become very different from the people we were when we made our vows, well, it takes a real commitment to loving each other. It helps to remember that, no matter how drastic the changes we undergo, for each of us the soul of our person-hood remains present, hopefully growing into the best version of ourselves along the way.
Learning to love my bride as she and I both experience life's changes is ultimately a great joy.
Monday, March 21, 2011
Caring timelessness
I do not ask you to forget the present and imagine that it is Holy Week. Rather, I invite you to be open to the thought that you are now calling the present is Holy Week, for all time was there, is there, at the cross. - Fr. Richard John Neuhaus, Death on a Friday Afternoon
Why do young people fall in love so easily? Carefree timelessness! - Matthew Kelly, The Seven Levels of Intimacy
I've written about the timelessness of Christ before, numerous times, including (at least) here, here, here, here, and here. (Note to self: create an Eternity label and add the appropriate posts to it!) Now I find the concept near the very beginning of Fr. Neuhaus' book, where I must have read it before I started reflecting in detail on my initial reading, last year. And I also find myself thinking of Matthew Kelly's insightful observations on the power of timelessness in relationships, and Fr. Satish's comments tonight about the central importance in prayer of focusing on God's love.
I don't believe any of us would ever characterize Jesus' Passion as "carefree." Quite the opposite. And yet no believer would deny that it was an incredible act of love, and that the least of Jesus' concerns was how long it was taking. So there we see at least one aspect of timelessness that was at work on Good Friday. Our approach to our deepest relationships is never focused on how long things are taking; we are rather so absorbed in whatever sharing of life is taking place that time often seems to stand still for us. So, we're up with good friends all hours of the night (unless, of course, we're sick as a dog when we visit!), or we're reunited after years of separation and it's as if we haven't spent more than a day apart.
The culmination of all timelessness occurs in the eternal heavenly liturgical banquet. The original and annual Hebrew Passover celebration finds its fulfillment there. Every Eucharistic celebration, beginning from the first Holy Thursday - which was a Passover meal - is present for all eternity in this feast. Every moment of time is simultaneously present and fulfilled; each pain is united with Jesus' pain, each joy united finds its place within that of the resurrection. So it is that each moment is also inextricably linked to the cross. This is the ultimate in timelessness, and we participate in it at each Eucharist, and indeed, each time we enter into the Lord's presence.
Each of our relationships grows to the degree in which we allow this attitude of timelessness to have its sway. It is "carefree" in the sense that we don't care about the time. But I believe it's mostly a matter of caring more about the present than about the time. It isn't that the passage of time isn't important; it's that we care more about the other person we're with, or who we're doing something for. It is a "caring" timelessness.
Christ lived this way throughout his Incarnate life. From his inception/Incarnation through his Passion and death, Jesus was more concerned with his relationship with his beloved (that would be each of us!) than with anything else, including time. And this was never more true than in the fullness of time, when he completed his mission on earth.
And so it is that each moment is part of the eternal Holy Week. We may as well immerse ourselves in it now, as it is our destiny forever!
Why do young people fall in love so easily? Carefree timelessness! - Matthew Kelly, The Seven Levels of Intimacy
I've written about the timelessness of Christ before, numerous times, including (at least) here, here, here, here, and here. (Note to self: create an Eternity label and add the appropriate posts to it!) Now I find the concept near the very beginning of Fr. Neuhaus' book, where I must have read it before I started reflecting in detail on my initial reading, last year. And I also find myself thinking of Matthew Kelly's insightful observations on the power of timelessness in relationships, and Fr. Satish's comments tonight about the central importance in prayer of focusing on God's love.
I don't believe any of us would ever characterize Jesus' Passion as "carefree." Quite the opposite. And yet no believer would deny that it was an incredible act of love, and that the least of Jesus' concerns was how long it was taking. So there we see at least one aspect of timelessness that was at work on Good Friday. Our approach to our deepest relationships is never focused on how long things are taking; we are rather so absorbed in whatever sharing of life is taking place that time often seems to stand still for us. So, we're up with good friends all hours of the night (unless, of course, we're sick as a dog when we visit!), or we're reunited after years of separation and it's as if we haven't spent more than a day apart.
The culmination of all timelessness occurs in the eternal heavenly liturgical banquet. The original and annual Hebrew Passover celebration finds its fulfillment there. Every Eucharistic celebration, beginning from the first Holy Thursday - which was a Passover meal - is present for all eternity in this feast. Every moment of time is simultaneously present and fulfilled; each pain is united with Jesus' pain, each joy united finds its place within that of the resurrection. So it is that each moment is also inextricably linked to the cross. This is the ultimate in timelessness, and we participate in it at each Eucharist, and indeed, each time we enter into the Lord's presence.
Each of our relationships grows to the degree in which we allow this attitude of timelessness to have its sway. It is "carefree" in the sense that we don't care about the time. But I believe it's mostly a matter of caring more about the present than about the time. It isn't that the passage of time isn't important; it's that we care more about the other person we're with, or who we're doing something for. It is a "caring" timelessness.
Christ lived this way throughout his Incarnate life. From his inception/Incarnation through his Passion and death, Jesus was more concerned with his relationship with his beloved (that would be each of us!) than with anything else, including time. And this was never more true than in the fullness of time, when he completed his mission on earth.
And so it is that each moment is part of the eternal Holy Week. We may as well immerse ourselves in it now, as it is our destiny forever!
Saturday, October 02, 2010
The return of a Great Epic Writer
Lying in bed this morning, I was remembering our old high school group. In our sophomore year, we used to write lengthy letters to one another, priding ourselves on both our verbosity and our emotional forthrightness. It seems to me that the whole practice started off with the idea of writing "suicide" letters. It wasn't that we were suicidal - at least, I don't think any of us were. To a degree we were outcasts, misfits, who grouped together because we didn't really feel that we belonged in any of the cliques around us, but we weren't really depressed. Rather, in the morbid fascination that so often characterizes teenagers even as we rush through that stage of life in utter incomprehension of our mortality, we decided to make sure we expressed the things that we wouldn't want to leave unsaid in the event that we died. I think we had a sense that such expression was probably good for us emotionally. I remember writing letters that were pages and pages long, filled with all of the concerns and anxiety that consume a teenager's consciousness, and receiving the same in return from my friends. We were soon referring to ourselves as The Great Epic Writers. Most of us were in a fairly unstructured, experimental, somewhat self-directed educational program, which usually left us with time during the school day to talk about some of the things we'd expressed to one another.
(It occurs me that we owe a huge apology to Maris St. Cyr, Sr. Jean Furr, Sr. Margaret Mary, Mr. Sakowicz, and Diana Kidd, the teachers whose educational vision maybe shouldn't have been entrusted to a bunch of adolescents. I suppose this was basically a Montessori type program, or at least that it borrowed heavily from Montessori's concepts as they might apply at the high school level. I don't know how much longer after our graduation the Beta program lasted at Spalding, but I'm pretty sure I didn't end up being a very good steward of such a great experiment.)
I wonder if my life might have turned out differently if we'd still been engaged in that letter writing exercise the following calendar year when - unbeknownst to my friends and not fully understood by me - my young, dark life turned black, but I guess there's no point in going there.
Anyway, I think that part of the reason I enjoy dialoguing so much hearkens back to these angsty high school days, which trained me for a future I never knew was coming. It occurs to me now that writing those letters - sometimes a dozen or more pages long, pouring out our deepest fears and anxieties, joys and hopes - and then discussing them with one another, was exactly the model that Marriage Encounter uses to nurture the marital relationship on a daily basis. Of course, we don't now have the kind of time available to us that we did as teenagers to simply feel and think and express - the "carefree timelessness" that Matthew Kelly identifies as the key to making our relationships thrive. We have lives and responsibilities to attend to. But carving out some time each day with my bride of (almost) thirty years, to again express our dreams and our worries - and most of all our put them in the context of our love for one another - is probably more important than everything else that we do, and this experience among my friends in high school has prepared me to recognize this communication mode as familiar and comfortable.
These days I find my mind filled with so many things that I could use my old friends' compassion and reassurance about.
The thing is, I know that not even my dear old friends could convince me of what I cannot seem to believe for myself. I have plenty of affirmation in my life, from good friends old and new who have walked with me through the dark woods of my life, as well as from my loving wife and family. Why would more input, from my friends from high school or earlier in my adulthood, make any more of a difference for me? And so I believe that my current determination to reenter therapy is probably a far better course of action for me.
But I find I have something left that I'd want to say to my fellow Great Epic Writers: I'm sorry that I didn't make better use of the love and support you shared with me, to become someone whose actions are more deserving of respect than mine have been. Should any of you ever read these words, it will likely be without knowing the depths to which I sank, and though that has been so long ago now, I still feel as if I owed you something better, along with myself and everyone who loves me, really. I don't feel full of despair over it, but don't know that I will ever overcome my disappointment in myself if I haven't managed it over the last 15 years. I can't change my past, and strive daily to be a person who lives rightly and loves better than I managed in my worst moments. But you gave me better than I've ever managed to make of it.
Yet I'm determined to make the most of each day now, to be an instrument of healing and love and support for those around me and to continue to grow into the person I can yet become. And I pray the same for each of you. Will you pray for me, too?
(It occurs me that we owe a huge apology to Maris St. Cyr, Sr. Jean Furr, Sr. Margaret Mary, Mr. Sakowicz, and Diana Kidd, the teachers whose educational vision maybe shouldn't have been entrusted to a bunch of adolescents. I suppose this was basically a Montessori type program, or at least that it borrowed heavily from Montessori's concepts as they might apply at the high school level. I don't know how much longer after our graduation the Beta program lasted at Spalding, but I'm pretty sure I didn't end up being a very good steward of such a great experiment.)
I wonder if my life might have turned out differently if we'd still been engaged in that letter writing exercise the following calendar year when - unbeknownst to my friends and not fully understood by me - my young, dark life turned black, but I guess there's no point in going there.
Anyway, I think that part of the reason I enjoy dialoguing so much hearkens back to these angsty high school days, which trained me for a future I never knew was coming. It occurs to me now that writing those letters - sometimes a dozen or more pages long, pouring out our deepest fears and anxieties, joys and hopes - and then discussing them with one another, was exactly the model that Marriage Encounter uses to nurture the marital relationship on a daily basis. Of course, we don't now have the kind of time available to us that we did as teenagers to simply feel and think and express - the "carefree timelessness" that Matthew Kelly identifies as the key to making our relationships thrive. We have lives and responsibilities to attend to. But carving out some time each day with my bride of (almost) thirty years, to again express our dreams and our worries - and most of all our put them in the context of our love for one another - is probably more important than everything else that we do, and this experience among my friends in high school has prepared me to recognize this communication mode as familiar and comfortable.
These days I find my mind filled with so many things that I could use my old friends' compassion and reassurance about.
The thing is, I know that not even my dear old friends could convince me of what I cannot seem to believe for myself. I have plenty of affirmation in my life, from good friends old and new who have walked with me through the dark woods of my life, as well as from my loving wife and family. Why would more input, from my friends from high school or earlier in my adulthood, make any more of a difference for me? And so I believe that my current determination to reenter therapy is probably a far better course of action for me.
But I find I have something left that I'd want to say to my fellow Great Epic Writers: I'm sorry that I didn't make better use of the love and support you shared with me, to become someone whose actions are more deserving of respect than mine have been. Should any of you ever read these words, it will likely be without knowing the depths to which I sank, and though that has been so long ago now, I still feel as if I owed you something better, along with myself and everyone who loves me, really. I don't feel full of despair over it, but don't know that I will ever overcome my disappointment in myself if I haven't managed it over the last 15 years. I can't change my past, and strive daily to be a person who lives rightly and loves better than I managed in my worst moments. But you gave me better than I've ever managed to make of it.
Yet I'm determined to make the most of each day now, to be an instrument of healing and love and support for those around me and to continue to grow into the person I can yet become. And I pray the same for each of you. Will you pray for me, too?
Monday, January 19, 2009
My first recording studio sojourn
We loved the music from our Matthew Kelly event so much that we've decided to record it! We had our first studio session yesterday. What a fun, challenging process! I can't imagine what it would have been like in the old days of analog multitrack tape recordings. There were lots of things that the engineer was able to fix with a few clicks of the mouse, that would have resulted in a bad take "back in the day."
Instrumentalists arrived around 2, followed by the rest of the choir. We left there around 7:45 or 8. We have a LOT left to do, and only one more choir session scheduled to do it in. I'll be going back in Thursday night to lay down a guitar track. We'll see how that goes!
Instrumentalists arrived around 2, followed by the rest of the choir. We left there around 7:45 or 8. We have a LOT left to do, and only one more choir session scheduled to do it in. I'll be going back in Thursday night to lay down a guitar track. We'll see how that goes!
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
For starters, Sunday
It was fabulous. The music went great. Matthew Kelly's talk was excellent, the best I've ever heard from him. Yeah, there was some familiar material, but packaged in a way that was really a coherent discussion of his conversion story, and why it is so vitally important that we be transformed, and how we can start participating with God in that process in our lives. I've heard there may have been as many as 1600 people there; the main sanctuary held 1000, and they had a sizable overflow room set up with an audio system and video projector. It was an exciting night to be a part of.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Not "happiness." Joy!
Inspired by the theme of our upcoming Matthew Kelly event
There are (at least) a couple different ways we try to live as Christians.
The first, which many people seem to take, is to treat Christianity as a set of behavioral standards to which we strive, to varying degrees and mixed (at best) success. Its goal is to help us to "be good," whatever that means. Some folks focus on the Ten Commandments, others on the Beatitudes. Some latch onto passages from St. Paul, such as Philippians 4, 8 or Galatians 5, 22, and try to live by them. Some of my fellow Catholics apply the church's teaching in the same way, as a set of restrictive rules. Others reject any or all of these as a straitjacket intended to keep us in line, to stifle our uniqueness, our individuality and, ultimately, our happiness.
Now, it isn't that I'm denigrating any of these wonderful and important sources, or putting down those who strive to live them. They have a vital place in our lives. It's just that too many Christians act as if the purpose of Christ's Incarnation was to show us how we can become worthy of salvation by our right living. This is the approach that my in-laws' neighbor has apparently followed, and I've heard very good and well-meaning people state that the purpose of Jesus' life was to teach us to live. But as wonderful as the Beatitudes and the fruit of the Holy Spirit are, if they're just a new, more stringent standard for life, then Christ is not a savior, he's merely a social reformer. And the people I know who focus primarily on living up to such a standard are rarely joyful.
We didn't then and don't now need a new standard, nor even an example, that's impossible for us to meet. What we needed then as now, and have, is a Savior, to deliver us from the dominion of the darkness of sin. Though we're sinners, Jesus, who was not a sinner, laid down his life in place of ours, and has poured out the Holy Spirit upon us, to deliver us into his kingdom of light. So the purpose of Christianity isn't to polish us up to a point at which we no longer need a savior; it is that we may accept (and respond to) God's grace, which transforms us into the sons and daughters God envisions us to be. This is what fills us with joy!
It isn't that we must try to do for ourselves what Christ has done for us. It isn't that I'm good so that I may get to heaven. It is rather that I know what Christ has done for me, and I want to respond to it at every opportunity! I trust God enough to believe that God's revealed plan for my life is immeasurably superior to what I can figure out on my own, and so I strive to live according to that plan, by the help of the Holy Spirit who dwells within me. (And no, I'm not saying I'm there yet!)
The salvation that Christ has won for us is a cause for joy that is deeper than our circumstances. So it isn't that I'm not touched with sadness by what mrs tg's mom is going through right now; or for my fellow Jubilean whose father suffered a massive stroke; or over the other Jubilean, a vibrant young mom, newly diagnosed with an aggressive brain tumor (latter two situations were first shared at Monday's otherwise excellent rehearsal). We'd be insensitive to pretend the world is all blue sky and sunshine when such storms are blowing. We don't neglect praying for their healing, both temporally and eternally, and reaching out to them, because of some pie-in-the-sky notion that all will be well, God will provide for their every need and those of their loved ones. And yet our sadness, our concern, our reaching out to them are undergirt by the confident joy of knowing that, indeed, somehow, God will provide for their needs, not only in this world but - as ultimately matters most - for all eternity.
There are (at least) a couple different ways we try to live as Christians.
The first, which many people seem to take, is to treat Christianity as a set of behavioral standards to which we strive, to varying degrees and mixed (at best) success. Its goal is to help us to "be good," whatever that means. Some folks focus on the Ten Commandments, others on the Beatitudes. Some latch onto passages from St. Paul, such as Philippians 4, 8 or Galatians 5, 22, and try to live by them. Some of my fellow Catholics apply the church's teaching in the same way, as a set of restrictive rules. Others reject any or all of these as a straitjacket intended to keep us in line, to stifle our uniqueness, our individuality and, ultimately, our happiness.
Now, it isn't that I'm denigrating any of these wonderful and important sources, or putting down those who strive to live them. They have a vital place in our lives. It's just that too many Christians act as if the purpose of Christ's Incarnation was to show us how we can become worthy of salvation by our right living. This is the approach that my in-laws' neighbor has apparently followed, and I've heard very good and well-meaning people state that the purpose of Jesus' life was to teach us to live. But as wonderful as the Beatitudes and the fruit of the Holy Spirit are, if they're just a new, more stringent standard for life, then Christ is not a savior, he's merely a social reformer. And the people I know who focus primarily on living up to such a standard are rarely joyful.
We didn't then and don't now need a new standard, nor even an example, that's impossible for us to meet. What we needed then as now, and have, is a Savior, to deliver us from the dominion of the darkness of sin. Though we're sinners, Jesus, who was not a sinner, laid down his life in place of ours, and has poured out the Holy Spirit upon us, to deliver us into his kingdom of light. So the purpose of Christianity isn't to polish us up to a point at which we no longer need a savior; it is that we may accept (and respond to) God's grace, which transforms us into the sons and daughters God envisions us to be. This is what fills us with joy!
It isn't that we must try to do for ourselves what Christ has done for us. It isn't that I'm good so that I may get to heaven. It is rather that I know what Christ has done for me, and I want to respond to it at every opportunity! I trust God enough to believe that God's revealed plan for my life is immeasurably superior to what I can figure out on my own, and so I strive to live according to that plan, by the help of the Holy Spirit who dwells within me. (And no, I'm not saying I'm there yet!)
The salvation that Christ has won for us is a cause for joy that is deeper than our circumstances. So it isn't that I'm not touched with sadness by what mrs tg's mom is going through right now; or for my fellow Jubilean whose father suffered a massive stroke; or over the other Jubilean, a vibrant young mom, newly diagnosed with an aggressive brain tumor (latter two situations were first shared at Monday's otherwise excellent rehearsal). We'd be insensitive to pretend the world is all blue sky and sunshine when such storms are blowing. We don't neglect praying for their healing, both temporally and eternally, and reaching out to them, because of some pie-in-the-sky notion that all will be well, God will provide for their every need and those of their loved ones. And yet our sadness, our concern, our reaching out to them are undergirt by the confident joy of knowing that, indeed, somehow, God will provide for their needs, not only in this world but - as ultimately matters most - for all eternity.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Being flexible
Sometimes we have to be careful not to invest too much faith in our plans. (Actually, I suppose "plans" could be replaced with pretty much anything, aside from things like "God," or "Savior".) When we can avoid that, we can end up receiving unexpected blessings.
For a month or so, mrs. tg and I had planned to host our marriage encounter group last Saturday evening. In a real leap of faith (there's that word again) for her, we'd also agreed to make a short presentation to the other couples - I simply can't convey how out of character it was for her to agree to this. So when we went to MD for Unc's services, we took along the book The Seven Levels of Intimacy, by Matthew Kelly, as our planned resource for this presentation. Rather than have her wade through the whole thing, which I'd already read (twice), I had her focus on a few sections that I thought would lend themselves well to the short time we'd have available to us - about ten minutes. Though the book's main points couldn't really be covered in less than an hour, there were a few gems that I thought might fit well together for a shorter presentation.
Anyway, mrs. tg read through the suggested pages before bed one night in MD, but we didn't have a chance to discuss it at that point. A couple days after we were back home she went through them again, making notes on things that she thought were worth sharing. It happened that we agreed completely on what we should work into our talk, and over the next couple days we were able to get things pretty well ready. The only real down side was that, while we were glad to be getting together with this group of friends, we were going to miss a parish event that was slated for the same evening.
By Friday it was looking as if only two other couples from the group would be available. Sometimes, though, the smaller meetings are nicest, a chance to really get to know one another better. But when we got back to the house late Saturday afternoon after some shopping, we had a message from one of them: the wife was sick and they wouldn't be able to make it. While listening to the message, the other couple called. A family situation had come up that required their immediate attention.
In truth, we were pretty excited about our presentation, and I'd been a little disappointed to share it with only a few people, especially for mrs. tg's sake. Now we have it tucked away for future use, hopefully with more of the group available. And since we weren't wrapped up in disappointment over our plans falling through, we realized we were suddenly free to participate in the tri-parish Eucharistic procession through the community (streets closed off, drummer providing cadence; such processions are still a key part of the Catholic experience in many parts of the world) and Benediction that evening. This turned out to be a really neat event, with dinner beforehand and dessert after and lots of nice fellowship. Oh, and our associate pastor shared his wonderful first experience of donating blood in his native India; the virtually destitute family of the young (9-year-old) recipient was so grateful they ultimately received Christ and converted!
For a month or so, mrs. tg and I had planned to host our marriage encounter group last Saturday evening. In a real leap of faith (there's that word again) for her, we'd also agreed to make a short presentation to the other couples - I simply can't convey how out of character it was for her to agree to this. So when we went to MD for Unc's services, we took along the book The Seven Levels of Intimacy, by Matthew Kelly, as our planned resource for this presentation. Rather than have her wade through the whole thing, which I'd already read (twice), I had her focus on a few sections that I thought would lend themselves well to the short time we'd have available to us - about ten minutes. Though the book's main points couldn't really be covered in less than an hour, there were a few gems that I thought might fit well together for a shorter presentation.
Anyway, mrs. tg read through the suggested pages before bed one night in MD, but we didn't have a chance to discuss it at that point. A couple days after we were back home she went through them again, making notes on things that she thought were worth sharing. It happened that we agreed completely on what we should work into our talk, and over the next couple days we were able to get things pretty well ready. The only real down side was that, while we were glad to be getting together with this group of friends, we were going to miss a parish event that was slated for the same evening.
By Friday it was looking as if only two other couples from the group would be available. Sometimes, though, the smaller meetings are nicest, a chance to really get to know one another better. But when we got back to the house late Saturday afternoon after some shopping, we had a message from one of them: the wife was sick and they wouldn't be able to make it. While listening to the message, the other couple called. A family situation had come up that required their immediate attention.
In truth, we were pretty excited about our presentation, and I'd been a little disappointed to share it with only a few people, especially for mrs. tg's sake. Now we have it tucked away for future use, hopefully with more of the group available. And since we weren't wrapped up in disappointment over our plans falling through, we realized we were suddenly free to participate in the tri-parish Eucharistic procession through the community (streets closed off, drummer providing cadence; such processions are still a key part of the Catholic experience in many parts of the world) and Benediction that evening. This turned out to be a really neat event, with dinner beforehand and dessert after and lots of nice fellowship. Oh, and our associate pastor shared his wonderful first experience of donating blood in his native India; the virtually destitute family of the young (9-year-old) recipient was so grateful they ultimately received Christ and converted!
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