I attended my first course at St. Meinrad School of Theology last week! The course, called "Human Development and Christian Maturity," is designed to be part of the certificate in spiritual direction offered by the school, and it was a very interesting springboard for thought concerning my own life in God and in community.
As a woman nearing the big 4-0 in the next year, this course was impeccably timed. I have heard of the infamous "mid-life crisis," but I didn't really understand what the psychology behind it was. I thought it was about fearing death or mourning from this feeling like you're heading downhill. Actually, it's a natural turning point in our lives that most people aren't prepared for.
The way our teacher described it (pulling on people like Erikson, Jung, and St. Teresa of Avila), we spend the first half of our lives building ourselves into who we are. Hopefully, during this time we have arrived at a stable Christian life. By this time, we hope that we're decently virtuous, avoiding sin as best we can, and praying like a good Christian does. Most people get a little comfortable and might even think that's the goal, the end, the maintenance point. Just keep living like that until the end, and you'll be O-K.
Then things get a little crazy.
The next process in Human (and Christian) Development is a total swing of momentum. Much like the image of the hill (and being "over the hill) suggests, it starts to feel like more is happening to a person, than it feels like a person is making something happen. The first half of the ride is climbing hard, and the second half feels a lot like falling, or maybe like jumping out of an airplane. It starts to feel like I'm not the boss of me.
In St. Teresa of Avila's book Interior Castle, she discusses the move to the fourth mansion (exactly half way through her 7 mansions) as a big shift in just Who is in charge of the movement forward. Basically, God takes over from here and the human person needs to learn trust and abandonment to God's action. "Oh, you can't get to heaven in a limousine," as the old song says, "'cause the Lord don't sell no gasoline." At a certain point in the Christian life, you can't depend on the gas that got you there before. Prayer and devotion to spiritual practice get harder. The things that used to bring you joy, won't anymore. It isn't a sign that you are doing something wrong and that you need to turn back and find your way. It may be a very good sign that you are about to find a totally new path unlike any you've traversed before!
When you experience this, it can be tough to understand it based on how things have always been before. Usually, "midage" is about the time people seek out spiritual directors. This is a tough transition sometimes, and one not many people talk about. The singer of that old song begs: "If you get to heaven before I do, just dig a hole and pull me through!" It is a great thing to find someone who's "been there, done that" to help pull us through when things stop making sense. There's more on the other side of the hill. More than you can ask or imagine.
Monday, February 26, 2018
Monday, February 19, 2018
This, Too, Shall Pass
When I was in college, I remember one particular day when I called home to talk to my mom. I was going through a particularly challenging time, and could use a shoulder to cry on (even if it was a couple hundred miles away). Since this was before the days when everyone had a cell phone, my dad answered the house phone.
He asked what was up, and instead of saving my tears for Mom, I poured them out on my dad. It seemed like the whole world was ending, and he could probably hear it in my voice that I was a little too caught up in the details of this particular situation to see the big picture of life.
I remember that he did his best to comfort me in his own way, including pulling out time-tested, if cliché, idioms that he hoped would comfort me, such as: “In every life, a little rain must fall,” and "No one promised you a bed of roses," and other platitudes. I kind of groaned inwardly, hoping he would finish up and hand the phone off to Mom. But before he handed the phone over, he gave me one last thing to remember.
"I love you, honey, and remember, ‘This, too, shall pass.’”
To be honest, I don’t remember anything else about that phone call. I only remembered those four words.
My parents hadn’t always had it easy. There were plenty of tough times. Yet, when I thought about it, somehow my parents always weathered the storm and ended up better than before. Dad wasn't just saying those words because he wanted to make me feel better now, but because it was exactly this kind of attitude--hope--which would lead to a better and brighter future.
When I sat in class for the rest of that semester, I wrote them on top of my notebooks, and decorated them with vines and flowers over and over. “This, too, shall pass…” And Dad was right, it did.
Over the years, this hope for joy and a future full of hope has never left me. Whenever I get mired down in the troubles of the world, I remember my dad’s promise that this is all temporary. Sometimes, when I see my children laughing and singing, or when I sit with my husband on the couch and listen to him talk excitedly about some big project, or when I know that the time is coming to say goodbye to people I love, I think of the other side of that little saying. “This, too, shall pass.” Yet even grief is a passing thing.
Now that Dad has a cell phone, I don’t “accidentally” receive his wisdom when I am calling my mom. She’s a fabulous font of wisdom, too, but as a man who has borne his share of suffering and struggle, he is a bulwark in my life. He is a man who can steadfastly look with hope to the future. When I really need it most, he sustains my courage by his own example and deceptively simple words that go right to the heart of my life.
He asked what was up, and instead of saving my tears for Mom, I poured them out on my dad. It seemed like the whole world was ending, and he could probably hear it in my voice that I was a little too caught up in the details of this particular situation to see the big picture of life.
I remember that he did his best to comfort me in his own way, including pulling out time-tested, if cliché, idioms that he hoped would comfort me, such as: “In every life, a little rain must fall,” and "No one promised you a bed of roses," and other platitudes. I kind of groaned inwardly, hoping he would finish up and hand the phone off to Mom. But before he handed the phone over, he gave me one last thing to remember.
"I love you, honey, and remember, ‘This, too, shall pass.’”
To be honest, I don’t remember anything else about that phone call. I only remembered those four words.
My parents hadn’t always had it easy. There were plenty of tough times. Yet, when I thought about it, somehow my parents always weathered the storm and ended up better than before. Dad wasn't just saying those words because he wanted to make me feel better now, but because it was exactly this kind of attitude--hope--which would lead to a better and brighter future.
When I sat in class for the rest of that semester, I wrote them on top of my notebooks, and decorated them with vines and flowers over and over. “This, too, shall pass…” And Dad was right, it did.
Over the years, this hope for joy and a future full of hope has never left me. Whenever I get mired down in the troubles of the world, I remember my dad’s promise that this is all temporary. Sometimes, when I see my children laughing and singing, or when I sit with my husband on the couch and listen to him talk excitedly about some big project, or when I know that the time is coming to say goodbye to people I love, I think of the other side of that little saying. “This, too, shall pass.” Yet even grief is a passing thing.
Now that Dad has a cell phone, I don’t “accidentally” receive his wisdom when I am calling my mom. She’s a fabulous font of wisdom, too, but as a man who has borne his share of suffering and struggle, he is a bulwark in my life. He is a man who can steadfastly look with hope to the future. When I really need it most, he sustains my courage by his own example and deceptively simple words that go right to the heart of my life.
Monday, February 12, 2018
Three Things
When people talk about Lent, they usually get stuck on what they're going to "give up." I remember the sweet movie from the 1960s, Trouble with Angels, where two of the girls had snuck away to try smoking. One of them said that she didn't think she liked it very much. The other, a precocious teen named Mary, responded. "Now you have something you hate that you can give up for Lent!" It was a pretty funny line, and at least she was thinking about Lent. But if we get stuck on just the fasting component of Lent, we might miss the point.
A good way to remember the three big things the Church reminds us to practice with more diligence during Lent is summed up by a sweet little song. My daughter came home from School of Mary (a local Catholic Montessori co-op school) last year singing a little ditty to the tune of "Are you sleeping, Brother John?" It goes like this:
Prayer and Fasting and Almsgiving. We are meant, to repent.
Forty days of sacrifice. Being super extra nice. (this had a cheesy little arm movement that went with it)
This is Lent. This is Lent.
I thought it had a nice ring to it, but for the sake of the atrium and not risking the kids getting too silly during prayer time, we changed the words to:
Prayer and Fasting and Almsgiving. We are meant, to repent.
Forty days of sacrifice. Change our hearts and change our lives.
This is Lent. This is Lent.
In the atrium last week, my Level III (4th-6th grade) children, were brainstorming ideas about ways we can prepare for Easter this year during the Lenten season. Since people usually think about the fasting part first, we decided to focus on almsgiving and prayer.
Most kids don't have access to much cash, so giving to the poor might be a goal that is a little outside of their reach. But there are ways around it. One 4th grade child in our atrium, for example, just finished a fundraiser that was his own idea. He and his mom spent a day making tamales and sold them to benefit Inner Visions Healthcare, a local clinic to help pregnant mothers in crisis. He gave his time, and other people gave money!
The children also thought that maybe another way to give would be to be sneaky about doing their siblings' or parents' chores. That way they can give something just for the sake of giving, not the recognition that goes with it.
Another child shared how her mother makes a "crown of thorns" out of wood and sticks toothpicks in it. Each time a child does something kind without being seen, he or she can come and take a toothpick out of the crown of thorns and place it in a jar. She said that on Easter morning, the toothpicks are gone and the jar is full of jellybeans!
The children also thought about their prayer practices. Do they pray to God each morning when they get up? When they go to bed? Are there prayers that they want to learn this Lent?
Everyone's Lent is going to be different depending on who you are and where you are in your journey, but one thing is certain, we have to think hard and dig deep if we really want to allow God to "change our hearts and change our lives" this Lent. Don't be like Mary in Trouble with Angels and just give up something you hate! Remember the Three Things, and find your way from there!
A good way to remember the three big things the Church reminds us to practice with more diligence during Lent is summed up by a sweet little song. My daughter came home from School of Mary (a local Catholic Montessori co-op school) last year singing a little ditty to the tune of "Are you sleeping, Brother John?" It goes like this:
Prayer and Fasting and Almsgiving. We are meant, to repent.
Forty days of sacrifice. Being super extra nice. (this had a cheesy little arm movement that went with it)
This is Lent. This is Lent.
I thought it had a nice ring to it, but for the sake of the atrium and not risking the kids getting too silly during prayer time, we changed the words to:
Prayer and Fasting and Almsgiving. We are meant, to repent.
Forty days of sacrifice. Change our hearts and change our lives.
This is Lent. This is Lent.
In the atrium last week, my Level III (4th-6th grade) children, were brainstorming ideas about ways we can prepare for Easter this year during the Lenten season. Since people usually think about the fasting part first, we decided to focus on almsgiving and prayer.
Most kids don't have access to much cash, so giving to the poor might be a goal that is a little outside of their reach. But there are ways around it. One 4th grade child in our atrium, for example, just finished a fundraiser that was his own idea. He and his mom spent a day making tamales and sold them to benefit Inner Visions Healthcare, a local clinic to help pregnant mothers in crisis. He gave his time, and other people gave money!
The children also thought that maybe another way to give would be to be sneaky about doing their siblings' or parents' chores. That way they can give something just for the sake of giving, not the recognition that goes with it.
Another child shared how her mother makes a "crown of thorns" out of wood and sticks toothpicks in it. Each time a child does something kind without being seen, he or she can come and take a toothpick out of the crown of thorns and place it in a jar. She said that on Easter morning, the toothpicks are gone and the jar is full of jellybeans!
The children also thought about their prayer practices. Do they pray to God each morning when they get up? When they go to bed? Are there prayers that they want to learn this Lent?
Everyone's Lent is going to be different depending on who you are and where you are in your journey, but one thing is certain, we have to think hard and dig deep if we really want to allow God to "change our hearts and change our lives" this Lent. Don't be like Mary in Trouble with Angels and just give up something you hate! Remember the Three Things, and find your way from there!
Monday, February 5, 2018
How Many Times do I have to Tell You?
I love the Abraham year.
In Level III (4th-6th grade) CGS we have five typologies that we work through on a three year cycle: Creation and Sin in year one, Flood and Abraham in year two, and Moses in year three. I really do enjoy each one, but I think Abraham is my favorite.
Typology studies are as much a gift to us catechists as they are to the children. This is my third time through Abraham since beginning Level III in CGS, and I learn something new every time. To start, we spend several weeks reading the account in the Old Testament. In the case of Abraham, we read several passages from Genesis and use a few card/description packets to help us understand what Abraham's time and life was like. One child was inspired to make a card packet of his own "Ankeny life" in comparison with Abraham's nomadic life.
Our weeks and weeks of reading and studying and waiting for the son of the promise, Isaac, to be born were nothing compared to Abraham's 25 year wait. The children's jubilation at Isaac's birth is quickly turned to sorrow and pain as we immediately follow his birth story with the Genesis 22 account of that fateful day when Abraham was "put to the test." It began with that same voice that Abraham had heard so many years before.
Answering the First Time
"Abraham!" God called.
"Ready!" replied Abraham.
The exchange that follows is so difficult to understand in a world that has been formed by 3800 years of monotheism. What? God is asking Abraham to offer his "only one, whom you love" and offer him on a "height I will show you"? What is going on here?
It is helpful that in our atrium we had lived with the children the previous 4 weeks in the world of Abraham. Abraham didn't know the future. He was the only person in the whole world who believed in the One, True God. He was surrounded by polytheists who had allegiances all over the place or by henotheists who were singularly dedicated to their own god, but didn't believe that their god was the only one. It was not unusual for religious people at that time to prove their love and devotion to their particular god by laying down the most important thing, or even the most important person, in their life.
When God calls Abraham, Abraham's response makes us think that Abraham was expecting this request. The Lord calls his name only once. "Ready!" he replied.
So often, looking back on this event after nearly 4 millennia, we can only respond with horror, wondering how or why God could do this. But, as we point out to the children in the atrium, the really shocking thing about this story is not so much that Abraham, a man of his own time, would be "ready" to do this, but that God stopped him. Many years later, through the prophet Jeremiah, the Lord tells his people that human sacrifice is something that the One, True God never "considered, or said, or commanded" (Jer 19:5, cf. Jer 32:35).
"Abraham! Abraham!"
Abraham was ready to obey the Lord at the first call, but I find it very interesting that it did take calling his name two times for God to convince Abraham to stop. The Lord was training up the very first monotheist. Abraham, our father in faith, had to have a pure heart in serving the One, True God. Not even the promise, not even the son, could be more central to his life than God. Abraham was so ready to make the sacrifice of obedience that God had to tell him twice to lay down the knife. The Lord asks us for everything, but He doesn't always take it.
In the coming weeks, we will continue to study Abraham, but this time in light of the revelation of Jesus Christ in the New Testament (typology). How many times can we read and study His Word and still let it escape our notice that our God loves us so much that He turned history and the whole idea of sacrifice on its head?
As Abraham tells his son on the way to Mt. Moriah, "The Lord Himself will provide the lamb for the sacrifice" (Gen 22:19). And so it happened.
"For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son so that everyone who believes in him might not perish, but might have eternal life" (John 3:16).
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