Lent is not always about the negative, about the sacrifice of this or that. It’s also taking on the positive, doing something more for someone, enriching someone’s life.
Or maybe I’m just trying to justify this entry…
Month: February 2013
#13 — Humility and Humiliation
humiliate ourselves before false gods
It’s sometimes easy for me to grow depressed about the world we have brought our children into. There are so many different calls for attention, so many things that people place in the center of their lives, things that at their heart are not only meaningless but actually harmful yet somehow seen as the ultimate good. It all falls under the banner of materialism and instant gratification, and the technology of today only heightens it. Indeed, the technology is often part and parcel of the whole game: smart phones to take pictures of unhealthy food to share with friends who have just posted pictures of the new car they bought that they really can’t afford; tablet computers that allow people to feed their obsession with sex, shopping, or whatever their fetish anywhere and everywhere; televisions large enough to cover most of a wall so we can see in painful clarity the details of our visual obsessions. Add to it the realization that children growing up today face new peer pressure to fit in by owning all these gadgets, using all these gadgets obsessively, virtually praying to these gadgets — and anyone who doesn’t fit in will faces a barrage of bullying, taunting, and rejection.
It’s not a world I would personally like to have to grow up in.
Weil speaks of these obsessions in terms of false gods:
We do not have to acquire humility. There is humility is us. Only we humiliate ourselves before false gods.
The fact that humiliate and humility have the same root is ironic today, considering how so many people humiliate themselves, all the while thinking they’re elevating themselves.
#12 — Natural Movements and Grace
Some Christians explain it with the doctrine of Original Sin. Muslims reject the notion of an inherently sinful nature in humanity but believe that pride (an unwillingness to submit) is humanity’s chief sin (ReligionFacts.com). Judaism seems to have no established doctrine on the matter, but the Jewish experience of the twentieth century — indeed, in most centuries — probably led many to believe in the tendency of humanity toward evil. Through countless rebirths, Buddhism  teaches, humans are to overcome a seemingly natural tendency toward attachment. Hinduism teaches that there is a reality beyond the everyday — the Brahman — that humans can achieve by changing not only their view but also their behavior, suggesting that the original state is an inferior state. Secularists use the term “human nature” to explain the simple fact that all religions recognize: the natural movement of the will tends to be downward.
All the natural movements of the soul are controlled by laws analagous to those of physical gravity. Grace is the only exception (Gravity and Grace, 45).
Yet life is generally about improvement. We want to become better people We want the “I” of today to be somehow more elevated than the “I” of yesterday and not quite so much as the “I” of tomorrow will be. Yet all this movement is relative to a standard. If we’re saying “better” and “worse,” it’s in relation to something. And even though we could say, “Well, yes: that ‘something’ is our former self,” that’s still not quite satisfying. We seem to have the desire to move toward an ultimate goal. It’s always about rising above the natural state we find ourselves in, and more often than not, it’s about detachment. The things that drag us down are things that we can leave behind, religions teach us, and the first step to rising is to make ourselves lighter. Gravity can pulls down harder on more mass; grace works to remove those weights and pull us upward.
While it sounds somewhat more Eastern — more Buddhist or Hindu than Christian — than Fr. Robert Barron, in Catholicism, points out that there is an element of detachment in Jesus’s most famous teachings, the Beatitudes, specifically the four, seemingly negatively framed Beatitudes. Barron begins by reminding us that Thomas Aquinas said there were four substitutes for God: “wealth, pleasure, power, and honor. Sensing the void within, we attempt to fill it up with some combination of these four things, but only by emptying out the self in love can we make the space for God to fill us” (43). The negative Beatitudes, then, are formulas for this emptying, and they form a perfect parallel with Aquinas’s four substitutes.
- Wealth: “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” Barron suggests a slight reformulation: “how blessed are you if you are not attached to material things, if you have not placed the goods that wealth can buy at the center of your concern.”
- Pleasure: Another negatively framed Beatitude becomes surprisingly apt for our culture when we reformulate it as Barron does: “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted” becomes “how blessed […] you are if you are not addicted to good feelings.” It’s easy, Barron says, to see this addition to good feeling in today’s society with its “prevalence of psychotropic drugs, gluttonous habits of consumption, and pronography” (44).
- Power: “Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the land.” Barron reforms this into, “How lucky you are if you are not attached to the finite good of worldly power” (44). We might be tempted to think this applies only to those with political power, but we all — even children — Â have some degree of power and control over someone in the world.
- Honor: “Blessed are those who are persecuted for the sake of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” The polar opposite of honor is persecution, and while honor is good, “when love of honor becomes the center of one’s concern, it, like any other finite good, becomes a source of suffering” (45).
This is what Lent is all about: giving up some of the distractions and attachments that tend to pull us downward (often material objects) while paying special attention to the things that lift us up (often some form of giving). It’s a sacrifice of the things for which we often sacrifice everything, our little mini-idols that occupy unhealthy proportions of our thoughts — forty days of detachment.
#11 — Advanced Opinion
opinion has an effect
Humility is the great sin of the modern age. Whether it’s “I’m okay; you’re okay” or “I’m the king of the world,” humility is on the other end of that spectrum. Many in the secular world find the notions of Christianity — Catholicism in particular — about the true, fallen nature of humanity to be distasteful because it offends the relatively modern sense of the inherent goodness in humanity. I think it probably has more to do with the humiliation of humility than it does with supposed dignity and inherent moral goodness. This is, of course, not to say that all individuals in today’s culture lack humility — just the prominent ones, the ones we as a society generally look up to.
Humility has as its object to eliminate that which is imaginary in spiritual progress. There is no harm in thinking ourselves far less advanced than we are: the effect of the light is in no way decreased thereby, for its source is not in opinion. There is great harm in thinking ourselves more advanced, because then opinion has an effect.
Having too positive an opinion of ourselves distracts us from the goal almost all religions set before us: the purification of our will. It not only distracts us; it deceives us.
Second Sunday of Lent 2013
Sun. It’s always there, they say. While living in Poland, I could go weeks, it seemed, without actually seeing it. Hidden behind layers upon layers of clouds, the sun’s light was defused throughout the whole sky, a dully gray that made it impossible to tell the time of day. There were two modes: darkness and less darkness.
Lately, it’s seemed like that around here. Gray skies. Rainy days. Cold and damp. Damp and cold.
And then, this morning.
Cloudless. Bright sky. Rich blue. And the temperature soars into the fifties, touches the sixties.
Everyone it seems is out. The neighbors’ dog, an ever-thrilled, always-excited Spaniel, is out making its rounds. I would say “Everyone loves him,” but I can speak only for my family: everyone loves him.
Everyone is out and about, including our dear little friend from up the street. The bare Crape Myrtles in the front beckon, and soon the kids are climbing, laughing, playing.
The promise of spring, the promise of afternoons outside, the promise of long evenings with golden skies.
It’s all coming.
In the Crib
Singalong
New Year’s Eve Performance
I’ve been catching up on old videos I never compiled…
#10 — Existence and Value
Illusions about the things of this world do not concern their existence, but their value.
Keeping a proper perspective about the value of the things around us — the everyday things in our lives, the this and that which are so much more than merely this and that — is probably made both easier and more difficult by the simple fact of having a family. Children and a spouse create routine, and routine risks monotony.
Therein lies the danger.
Saturday morning — breakfast, Skyping with Dziadek and Babcia, taking L to ballet, cleaning the house, doing the laundry, planning for the next week of school, correcting this or that assignment. This mix of truly the meaningful with the truly mundane risks making it all seem mundane.
Therein lines the illusion.
Weil is speaking the illusion that makes actions of inherent evil seem good in some circumstances, but the reverse is equally likely, and probably equally dangerous.
Not Quite Crawling
Catch!
Access Fun
For the past week, it’s probably appeared that I’ve neglected this poor little site. To the contrary: I had messed around a little too much with my .htaccess file and the result was, well, less than stellar.
#9 — Sin and Favor
I should look upon every sin I have committed as a favor of God.
It happens more often than I would really like to admit: the stumble, the trip, the knee to the ground. It’s never been something I would have thought to be thankful for. More often than not, stumbling into sin lands in humiliation of one sort or another, and humiliation is not something we usually look forward to or like to dwell on. Still, there’s a certain ageless wisdom in what Weil writes:
I should look upon every sin I have committed as a favor of God. It is a favor that the essential imperfection which is hidden in my depths should have been to some extent made clear to me on a certain day, at a certain time, in certain circumstances. I wish and implore that my imperfection my be wholly revealed to me in so far as human thought is capable of grasping it. Not in order that it may be cured but, even if it should not be cured, in order that I may know the truth.
Mistakes, sins, errors all mark progress.
#8 — Feeling Good About Oneself
Dear Terrence,
A brief respite from Weil, inspired by a few things in school from the last few days. It’s an appropriate supplement to yesterday’s post.
What are some of the things about yourself, about your life, about your future that make you feel good about yourself? What are the things in your life that are sources of pride? When you’re down, feeling a little low about yourself, what do you think about to remind yourself that you’re valuable, that you’re worth something? In short, what can you do to give your self-esteem a quick fix?
I have many sources of pride in my life. Most immediately, I’m proud of my family: my wife and my children make me feel like I am truly a valuable person. Other things I take pride in are my job (as a teacher, my job is essentially to help people), my time overseas (an experience that was as challenging as it was rewarding), and the respect and admiration of my colleagues (something I’ve worked hard to develop). When I’m feeling upset about something, I can think about or interact with these elements of my life, and I feel a little better as a result.
Occasionally, one of these very elements of my life leaves me upset. A bad day at school, an argument with my wife, an unsuccessful interaction with my daughter: all of these things can leave me a bit down, feeling a little less valuable, a little less important. Those moments are tricky, because I’m feeling bad about something which usually causes me to feel good.
That is the case today, because today you showed me, in no uncertain terms, that the best way for you to get your fix, the best way for you to feel better about yourself is to make someone else miserable through mocking, teasing, taunting, threatening, and seemingly countless other forms of bullying. It’s depressing to think of what your victim is going through, but it’s almost more tragic to think of what you’re screaming at the top of your lungs with those actions.
- “I have no self-esteem!”
- “I look inside myself and I see little of any beauty.”
- “I feel horrible about myself!”
- “I hate myself.”
- “I’m so afraid of what others will see if they look closely at me that I will do everything I can to deflect attention to someone else.”
- “I am terrible.”
- “I look inside myself and I see nothing — nothing — of any value.”
- “I am dumb.”
- “I am ugly.”
None of these things are true. You’re not dumb, ugly, terrible, or worthless.
You’re not any of these things, and you don’t have to try to make others feel they are just so you can feel equal. Pulling someone down is impossible: you can only pull yourself down. Or up.
You’re not any of these things, and insulting, threatening, and belittling others does not raise you up in everyone’s eyes. It lowers you.
You’re not any of these things because you’re a human being, full of dignity and deserving respect. Perhaps you’ve not gotten enough dignity and respect yourself from others around you. But does it really help you feel better to pass that pain on to others?
Concerned and in defense of others,
Your teacher
#7 — Authority and Legitimacy
Obedience to a man whose authority is not illuminated by legitimacy — that is a nightmare.
As a teacher, I think often about authority and legitimacy, and the simple fact that if I lack one, I lack the other. The problem with legitimacy, though, is that many of my students come with different definitions of what legitimacy looks like. I might just have two strikes against me from the beginning — two, or more. When our differing definitions collide, someone often ends up losing. Win-win is a lovely idea, but sometimes, it’s just not practical. Sometimes, the option seems taken before the situation even reaches a full head.
When I read Weil’s suggestion that authority without legitimacy is a nightmare, I realize that, from time to time, my classroom must be a nightmare for these students. It’s a difficult thought to accept.
#6 — Skipped
And how did I do that? How did I skip a day? How did I not realize this until twenty-four hours later?
#5 — The Source of Action
To transfer the source of our actions outside ourselves
Motivation is everything. An evil act can be mitigated, somewhat, when we realize the motivation of the act, though a purely evil act can never lead to a pure good. The opposite, of course, is also certainly true: many a good act has been tainted by a less than pure motive.
Weil’s aphorism seems to be one sure way to make sure our motives are as pure as possible. If the source of our actions is outside ourselves — whether in God or man — it seems less likely that we’ll be doing the right things for the wrong reasons.
First Sunday of Lent 2013
Technically speaking, the Sundays within the Lenten season are not fast days; Sundays, the Church teaches, are always feast days. Which means that theoretically, all the things one gives up for Lent are fair game. “Isn’t that cheating?” I’m tempted to ask.
After all, I really didn’t sacrifice anything of real value — that’s sort of the purpose of Lent, that realization. What’s in my life that has any value remains: family. Cigars? Alcohol? Coffee? Sweets? These things are all relatively meaningless in the larger picture — again, what Lent helps us focus on.
It’s not like I’m only just barely refraining from desperately grabbing at this or that. Sure, the things I give up for Lent give me a certain amount of pleasure, but they come with a price. Cigars, no matter how infrequently enjoyed, are in no way healthy. Alcohol is easily enough abused and doesn’t add much to life other than some relaxation and pleasure. Sweets? No problem: it’s not really surrender if you hardly ever do it. Coffee? Well, I thought in giving up coffee for the first time this year I might actually be sacrificing something I would really notice, and believe me, that first day without caffeine, I noticed it.
But after that first day, it was no problem at all. (A small admission: I did drink coffee today. Couldn’t resist.)
Still, when taking into account all the things I could lose, voluntarily or not, I think most all Lenten sacrifices are fairly insignificant — again, a realization that gets at the heart of the whole point of Lent.
#4 — Goodness and Will
Good which is done in this way, almost in spite of ourselves, almost shamefacedly and apologetically, is pure. All absolutely pure goodness completely eludes the will. Goodness is transcendent. God is Goodness.
It started with a few, hard flakes that looked more like ice pellets than anything else. Perhaps it was ice. But I didn’t worry: it was good no matter what it was. I strolled back into the house and calmly told the girls, “You won’t believe what’s happening: it’s snowing.” Within a few minutes, the flakes were fat and heavy, a wet snow that accumulated quickly despite the relatively warm weather. L and I changed our afternoon swimming plans and got dressed as quickly as we could, both excited about the prospect of snow. By the time we made it outside, the flakes were enormous and plentiful, and I found myself watching both the snow and the Girl’s excitement with the snow.
Living in South Carolina, snow is such an unpredictable goodness. It’s so rare it can only be counted as a good: at most, it might disrupt traffic for a little while; it could close the school system down for a day or two; but even the most sour, pessimist in the Upstate must smile a bit to see the occasional snow.
Yet it’s so unpredictable. We can literally go for years without any snow, apparently. Every winter, we wonder: will there be snow this winter> Well, at least I wonder, K wonders, the Girl wonders.
First moments outside
I stood there today, though, marveling at the difference between our Upstate winter reality and that of southern Poland. Here, the question is whether nor not it will snow; there, the questions are when the first snow will come, how long it will last, and if it will melt completely before the next snow falls. There, the first snow fall is just the promise of more, just a whisper of what’s to come. Here, it’s the promise, the whisper, and the whole story.
Muddy snowball
Sometimes I wonder what it might be like to live in such a place with my family. Perhaps with that much snow, the Girl would come to take it for granted. Is that even possible? Can a child ever grow tired of making snowballs, of digging snow forts, of sledding?
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- February surprise
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- Rosy cheeks
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- Contemplation
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- Afternoon snack
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- Snow and grass
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- In flight
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- Accumulation
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- Drops
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- After dinner
And what of the good, the transcendent good that eludes the will? Perhaps sometimes that good comes from an unexpected change in the weather, a sprinkling of white in an otherwise gray afternoon.
#3 — Choice
When we become conscious that we have to make a choice, the choice is already made for good or ill.
I often speak to my students about choice and habits. So many kids have such ingrained reactions that they’ve brought into the classroom from various environments — home, the street, the community center — which simply do not work in a comparatively-formal setting like a classroom. Perceived slights or insults must be avenged, for lack of a better term, and often very little thought has gone into the decision. These habits, I tell them, are going to get them into some serious trouble at some point in the future. “It won’t just be a referral from some teacher who’s fed up. It will be dismissal from work.”
Hanging on my wall is an almost-cliche but very succinct expression of the principle I’m trying to explain:
Be careful what you think, for your thoughts become your words.
Be careful what you say, for your words become your actions.
Be careful what you do, for your actions become your habits.
Be careful what becomes habitual, for your habits become your destiny.
Yet even when some of them try to break their habit, even when they begin thinking before speaking, there’s something in them that just compels them, despite the newly-formed warnings and whistles, to go ahead and say it. That’s the habit part, because hidden in every habit is a bit of an addiction. And so these kids are aware of the choice, but in many ways, by the time they’re aware of it, they’ve already made the decision.
Certainly, to a greater or lesser extent, the same is true for almost all of us. The awareness of this tendency, though, like the awareness of an addiction, is the first step toward correcting it. Or so we tell ourselves.