Browsing tag: faith

  • Choose Your Destination

    Choose your destination before you set out on a path.

    Their law is what they like to do, whatever strikes their fancy.  Anything they believe in and choose, they call holy; anything they dislike, they consider forbidden (Rule of St. Benedict, 1.8-9)

    So . . . if you’re thinking that this is a description of our culture today, actually it’s not.  This is St Benedict describing corrupt monks in the 6th century.  The mental outlook that surrounds us now was already an option then.  It has always been appealing to think that you can do whatever you want now and be fine in the end.  But a closer look at real experience shows that choices have consequences.  You’ve got to choose your destination in order to figure out the right path to get there.

    The monks that St Benedict approves of are the coenobitarum, which is Latin for koinos bios, which is Greek for common life, which is English for what I aim to discuss here. Life in community is the focus of St Benedict’s Rule.  He invites you to choose as your destination community with God and your fellow human beings.

    St. Benedict also refers to the eremitarum, which is the Latin transliteration of the Greek eremitēs, which means “one who lives in the desert” and gives us the English word hermit.  He himself lived as a hermit for three years.  He describes the hermit as ready with God’s help to grapple single-handed with the vices of body and mind (Rule of St. Benedict 1.5).

    When I first started to think of the housewife-mother as a domestic hermit, it was because of the experience of being overwhelmed by the demands of life in a family with children.  And yet I also felt isolated, grappling with all sorts of interior struggles.  I don’t think my experience is unusual.  I think that many people flee the domestic life exactly because of this combination of exterior harassment and interior aridity.

    My goal here is to provide some support for Christian families.  I’m going to write from the perspective of someone who finds goodness difficult and not always attractive.  If you’re very good already, I won’t be at your level.  If you’re hanging on by your fingernails and thinking of letting go, I have a few tips for how to claw your way to survival.

    Most people dislike philosophy, so I’ll just note that I would situate myself in the Existential Thomist line.  If you’re interested in pursuing this topic, I would suggest that you NOT try reading St. Thomas Aquinas on your own.  I would suggest that you read Jacques Maritain instead.  Start with his Christianity and Democracy. The difference between reading Maritain and reading Aquinas is like the difference between drinking a gin-and-tonic and chewing the bark of the cinchona tree to extract the quinine.  In the case of Aquinas, you really do want someone else to distill it for you.

    You don’t need to be a philosopher to notice how challenging it is for Jesus to say, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life” John 14:6.  His way of life is a narrow path uphill, and that’s not where the crowd is heading.  Meanwhile, you have myriads of alternatives immediately available.  A lot of nice people are rushing off in other directions, and who can tell yet where they will end up?  But Jesus insists that only his path leads to life (Matthew 7:13-14).

    He didn’t say you have to climb quickly.  There’s no quota of miles you must get through in a day.  You can sit down every ten feet and rest, if you need to.  And you don’t have to get to the end to experience the life.  You just have to be on the path–or in the vicinity of the path, retrieving someone from the landscape.  You can backtrack and retrace your steps, again, because that’s just what you have to do to keep everyone together. And you may find that your children have more energy than you do for the challenge.  They hate to walk, but they love to run.  If you point them in the right direction, soon they’ll get far beyond you, and you’ll be calling to them to wait up.

    Choose your destination: are you aiming for eternal community with those you love and with your Creator?

     

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  • Persevere

    For Scripture has it: Anyone who perseveres to the end will be saved, [Matthew 10:22]and again, Be brave of heart and rely on the Lord. [Psalm 27:14].  (Rule of St. Benedict 7.36-37)

    Discipline for a goal always was, and still is worth it.

    People with ordinary faces get up every day and keep going: for the sake of their children; for the sake of what is right and true and good; for love.

    Any goal worth reaching will point you uphill.  Hell is the other way.  There’s a broad, paved road with a gentle slope downhill, and all the cool people are on it, crowds of them.  If you were drifting with them but decide to turn around, you’ll have to fight your way through them, and they shove hard.  You will impede their fun.

    The question that pulses and pants and gets a headache is: what am I doing this for?

    Heaven beckons like a five-star vacation.  The Church promises that it’s already booked and paid for.

    But you’ve got to do the walking.  It’s a long hike through tough terrain.  Hardship doesn’t mean you’re guilty.  Hardship means you’re human, and still trying.

    God is always at work everywhere for good: within you too.  He will sustain you.  Bet your life on it.

    Sure, take a break and see if you can prove something.  But the choice always comes down to going on or giving up.  Therefore, people who are sweating uphill are probably honest when they offer help. Try being grateful, and accept it.  Hoist yourself to your feet.  It’s called perseverance. In other words, it means sending weight to bear on your forward foot when your toes pinch and your heel blisters.

    There’s a clear enough path when you start out. But then it wears thin and blends into the rock you’re balancing on.  Next thing you know, you’re craning your neck up a cliff face.  Walking was the easy part. You tell yourself it’s time to turn around and find that highway you were too good for.

    Others have been this way before: learn from them.  For instance, wear the harness.  Use the ropes.  You will surely slip and fall, but humility will save your life every time.  Free solo climbers will not pray or obey.

    Muscles clench that you didn’t know were in you.  The hissing sound is your own breath.  Fingertips are all the grip you’ve got.

    Someone slips and showers you with dirt and fragments.  The echo of that scream does not fade away.

    Or was that a jumper?  Jumpers are never alone.  They always drag a few others who were strapped to them.

    Certainly there are prayers that God seems in no hurry to answer. But when you pray for strength to do the right thing, he comes through, especially when there’s someone else roped to you and your fingers have gone numb.

    Sometimes he answers so fast that by the end of the day you’re kicking back on a plateau, enjoying the view.  When everyone you care about is getting along and helping each other, you might as well be in heaven.  You’ve already got what it’s all about.

    Pace yourself.  The tough parts push you beyond your limits.  That’s what getting stronger feels like.

    For a long time it’s awful, but the day comes when you flex your fingertips and don’t cramp.  You’re hanging off the next cliff, but it’s your cliff.  You own it.

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  • Endure Persecution For The Sake Of Justice

    Endure persecution for the sake of justice (Matthew 5:10).  (RB 4. 33)

    Brace yourself.  To endure implies time, maybe a long time.  Persecution is not a one-off, an insult from a passing stranger, a violation of a specific right on a particular occasion.  Persecution involves systematic, sustained, deliberate attack, targeting you.  So we’re talking about a long ordeal with no end in sight.

    In such a time, when there’s nothing to see but darkness, we fix our eyes on our purpose, the thing we love more, the justice without which we’d have no reason to keep going even if things were easy.  This is justice in the large sense.  That is to say, righteousness.  Righteousness simply means doing the right thing.  If everyone did the right thing, justice would flourish everywhere.  There are many opportunities to exercise it, in any human life.  It’s the thing you do because it’s right, before you realize you’ll be punished for it.

    Perhaps you speak out honestly, and the person in authority doesn’t want to hear it.  Someone pulls you aside, talks down to you, and gives you to understand that you are not at the level of those who have interesting contributions to make.  You are at the level of those who shut up and listen.  Fall in line, and maybe you’ll get somewhere.

    So you try.  And you fail.  You have no knack for nonsense phrases.  You keep searching for a way to express the truth that will get someone to listen.  But there is none, not where you are.

    For example, when you walk through the door, no one sees you.  You greet them, but they don’t remember having met you.  They don’t seem to hear you when you speak.  You don’t exist for them, and nonexistence is a terrible strain.  It melts your whole sense of self.

    What’s wrong with you?  Why can’t you just get along?  What is it that prevents you from fitting in?

    It’s the element of righteousness within your character. The justice of God is embodied in you. It’s the stuff you’re made of.

    And so you pray, “Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven,” because now you realize there’s a difference. Tension between earth and heaven is heating up. Where on earth is God’s will being done?

    Within you.

    God is truth, and the Spirit of Truth cannot abide lies, nor dwell within the liar. So you feel sick and sicker at hollow words you can no longer repeat. You can’t collude with what repels you.

    But when the heat is on, and the blows are hammering, something within you glows to life. Most surprisingly, the thing that should break you actually strengthens you. Your whole substance responds and alters. You don’t recognize yourself anymore, and neither do the people who know you. Sparks fly. You lose friends.

    It should not be so painful to do right. Hold out for the way things should be. Something in you does not belong in this world. Glow brighter. The darkness is very dark, and what you don’t see is that the only light in the room is emanating from you.

    You take the plunge to escape, because that’s the only path forward. When the steam clears, you’re still in one piece, but you feel defeated. You do have a future ahead of you, but it’s not the one you had planned. Not only your shape but your elemental structure has changed. Impurities are gone. Alloys are added. There’s no going back to what you were before. Not now, not ever.

    The One who is forging your character knows what he means to make of you, and your story isn’t over yet. Some day the form of you will find its function. You may still have further refinements to undergo. God will make your suffering count for justice.

     

     

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  • King Once And King To Be

    It is love that impels them to pursue everlasting life; therefore, they are eager to take the narrow road of which the Lord says: Narrow is the road that leads to life Matthew 7:14. (Rule of St. Benedict 5.10-11)

    When my son was not yet six years old, he asked me at Christmas: “How can God be both everywhere AND a baby in a manger?”

    I said, “Yes, and he’s also a Spirit who is present to each of us at every moment.”

    He said, “That’s CRAZY.”

    So I said, “One day you’ll learn that the really dangerous crazy people make perfect sense.  Everything fits together neatly for them.”

    Fortunately, at that point he dashed off to something else, so I didn’t have to explain that the baby is an exiled king who will one day return, and we’ve given him our allegiance, which involves us in all sorts of struggles while we wait for him to reclaim his inheritance.

    Or maybe that’s not theologically correct.  Maybe he is already King of everything.  It’s just that his enemy usurps his territory and seduces the allegiance of his citizens—usually the easy way, with inducements.  For those who don’t respond to inducements, there are threats.  For those who disregard threats, there are punishments.  Some of these are worse than being condescended to at cocktail parties.

    Sell out?

    In other words, there’s a romantic loyalty in the Christian call.  Something about love.

    The Christian does not obey a set of laws, a system of ideas, an abstract principle or an impersonal force.  The Christian has committed to obey a person.  That person is Christ.  So, Christian faith is not an exercise of the imagination.  Nor is faith an intellectual assent to a set of propositions.  Still less is it membership in a club.  You do have both an imagination and an intellect, and you are free to join clubs, but faith is something else.  Faith in God is trust in a person.

    It’s exactly at the point of obedience that you start to wonder if you really believe in this guy.  Why should you put yourself out for someone you neither know nor trust?

    You shouldn’t.  If it strikes you that God asks far too much, proceed with caution.  Take a step in the direction of what he seems to want, and see what comes of it.  And begin to claim his promises for yourself.  It’s only as you begin to experience God making good on his word that you’ll begin to feel confident in him.  If you never expect anything of him, you’ll never know him.

    Also realize that if you are yourself untrustworthy, you will never know God.  “Faithless” means treacherous, fickle, false.  This sort of person is incompatible with God.  If you want to experience a relationship with God, be faithful in your dealings with other human beings.

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  • The Challenge

    This message of mine is for you, then, if you are ready to give up your own will, once and for all, and armed with the strong and noble weapons of obedience to do battle for the true King, Christ the Lord. (RB Prologue.3)

    St. Benedict is of course not the first to describe the Christian life as a spiritual battle: St. Paul used that figure of speech in his letters.  On the face of it, however, it seems a bit histrionic to associate the domestic life with anything as dramatic as “battle.”  Surely the metaphor is overblown.

    But then you hear of another teenager who has committed suicide; of another husband who has abandoned his family; of another wife who has had an affair.  You see people with all sorts of destructive habits hurting themselves and their children.  The national abortion statistics come in for the year.  Then it’s your own friends whose marriages rot out.  Their cute kids grow up and do shocking things in the janitor’s closet in high school.  You watch a four year-old fall apart emotionally because she realizes that her father just doesn’t care.  You watch a seven year-old learn to be stoic.  A battle?  It’s a rout; a massacre; a spiritual slaughter.  And if you abandon your post, not only you but your children will join the list of casualties.

    So there is a war raging.  Whether or not you want to fight, it will involve you.  But how can obedience be a weapon?  Isn’t that a hopelessly unfashionable idea?  In Discipleship, the WWII-era Lutheran pastor, Dietrich Bonhoeffer makes the point that obedience to the commands of God is inseparable from faith in God. “You complain that you cannot believe?  No one should be surprised that they cannot come to believe so long as, in deliberate disobedience, they flee or reject some aspect of Jesus’ commandment.”

    Following the epistle of St. James, Bonhoeffer was explaining to a modern readership how false it is to think that an experience of faith must precede an act of obedience.  On the contrary, you must take action to obey in order to experience faith.  Bonhoeffer stepped away from the trend of Germanic philosophy since Kant and rejected the primacy of the thing in the mind over the thing in action.  He stood against Nazi Germany and lost his life as a result.  His side–our side–won that war, but insidious theories of self-invention spread through the post-war culture.

    These days a call to obedience sounds like an insult, to many people.  In the postmodern context, we are self-referential by default.  We find ourselves sequestered inside labile minds, no longer even able to rely on the modern concept of the coherent individual, who at least knew who he was and what he wanted.  More than in previous ages we need to obey the commands of God so as not to be constantly tossed about by our own confused thoughts and erratic feelings.

    But once we’ve obeyed the revealed commands of God—then what?  There’s all the rest of mundane life to live.  Must each individual at every moment debate every choice that needs to be made?  In a chaotic and arbitrary culture, willfully given over to the cult of randomness, it would be less exhausting to have some templates handy, some aids for the organization of behavior. A rational person faces relentless buffeting by the sheer nihilism of the surrounding environment.  A Domestic Rule would be helpful, to provide some guidelines for self-regulation.

     

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