This morning I was so grateful that it was cool enough to walk to the Poor Clares for Mass. On the way I was thinking about Blessed Kateri Tekakwitha, whose feast day we keep today here in the United States.
I was reflecting on the holy pictures and statues I've seen of her. She always appears as a young and pretty American Indian woman. This might seem odd. As I understand it, her face was scarred from the outbreak of smallpox that killed the rest of her family when she was a child. So why is she depicted as pretty and without scars? I suppose it's because holy cards and statues aim to reflect the beauty of a soul. (How some of our sense of sanctity might change as we begin to have more and more photographs of saints!)
So what's the connection between sanctity and prettiness?
In reflecting on this I was reminded of something from my job before I entered the Capuchins. I worked in human services, doing mostly direct care. Our days required a lot of teamwork. Most of my coworkers were women. In examining my conscience one day I realized that I was more helpful and attentive to the coworkers who seemed more attractive. I brought this insight up with my spiritual director, who saw in it an opportunity for a positive work of chastity. He advised me to make a spiritual practice out of trying to let go of seeing my coworkers through my senses of attractiveness or interest--which are largely arbitrary anyway--and try to see them as God sees them, as unique and unrepeatable creations beloved by Him. I should try to reinforce this interior practice by the exterior behavior of trying to treat all of them as if they were interesting and attractive, because that's how God saw them.
It's like the time I did practice confessions with a class of children back when I was a parish priest. I asked for a volunteer, and a bold little boy offered himself. I told him to make up a sin for the sake of the practice.
"I called my sister ugly," he confessed.
"Do you know why that's wrong?" I asked.
He thought for a moment, and then responded brilliantly:
"Because God made her beautiful."
True story. And full of truth too.
But here's the thing. By working to see others as God sees them, as creations passionately beloved for the beauty of their souls, we begin to bend our own sentiments and attractions to the divine will. We ourselves become more clearly the image and likeness of God which we were created to be, and thus become more affable, attractive, interesting, and lovable.
God, after all, is adorable and interesting. Indeed, He is supremely so. So if we want to be attractive and interesting, we should try to become more like Him. That's the sense, I think, in which sanctity is pretty.
July 14, 2011
July 13, 2011
July 12, 2011
On Guilt, Shame, and Repentance
When I was a younger I used to think that because I felt guilty about my sins, that meant I was repentant. It took me a while to puzzle out the difference. I was confusing to myself when I observed that I kept on sinning; hadn't I repented? I thought I had, but I was wrong.
Guilt is an afflictive emotion that arises when we become conscious of having done something against our conscience, our best selves, or who we have decided we want to be. Like other afflictive emotions such as anger and dejection, guilt isn't really moral in itself. The moral decision arises when we decide what to do with our guilt, and there are two choices.
Guilt presents a temptation and an invitation.
The temptation is to transform guilt into shame. We go from realizing that we have done something wrong to believing that we ourselves are bad. We go from hating the evil we have done to hating ourselves. In this movement we are tricked into an inverse form of pride that is just as self-involved as any positive vanity. In our concentration on ourselves, we start to miss out on grace. We lose interior sight of the God who alone can free us from the rotten luxury of our particular self-involvment, and we end up reinforcing the selfish roots of sin that got us into the whole mess in the first place.
The invitation is to turn guilt into repentance. Repentance wants to get rid of guilt not because it will make us feel better, but because we want to be better. We want to be rid of sin because, having discovered that we are beloved of God, we trust God enough to confess that we are a creature lovable enough to deserve better care, and more happiness. Even if we don't yet love ourselves well, we can desire to care for ourselves better as Another's beloved.
In other words, the path to real repentance is not so much in hating sin, but in loving the God who has loved us first.
Guilt is an afflictive emotion that arises when we become conscious of having done something against our conscience, our best selves, or who we have decided we want to be. Like other afflictive emotions such as anger and dejection, guilt isn't really moral in itself. The moral decision arises when we decide what to do with our guilt, and there are two choices.
Guilt presents a temptation and an invitation.
The temptation is to transform guilt into shame. We go from realizing that we have done something wrong to believing that we ourselves are bad. We go from hating the evil we have done to hating ourselves. In this movement we are tricked into an inverse form of pride that is just as self-involved as any positive vanity. In our concentration on ourselves, we start to miss out on grace. We lose interior sight of the God who alone can free us from the rotten luxury of our particular self-involvment, and we end up reinforcing the selfish roots of sin that got us into the whole mess in the first place.
The invitation is to turn guilt into repentance. Repentance wants to get rid of guilt not because it will make us feel better, but because we want to be better. We want to be rid of sin because, having discovered that we are beloved of God, we trust God enough to confess that we are a creature lovable enough to deserve better care, and more happiness. Even if we don't yet love ourselves well, we can desire to care for ourselves better as Another's beloved.
In other words, the path to real repentance is not so much in hating sin, but in loving the God who has loved us first.
July 11, 2011
Feast of St. Benedict
I always think that the feast of St. Benedict ought to have a little more liturgical solemnity for us Franciscans. Benedict's day is ranked a memorial in our calendar, just as it is generally.
Maybe it's whatever it is that makes my first priest insist (to this day) that I'm supposed to be a Benedictine (and maybe some of my Capuchin confreres would agree with him, I don't know), but it seems to me that anyone who lives or takes inspiration from the tradition of religious life in the western Church has an enormous debt to St. Benedict.
This isn't really an area where I have a lot of expertise, but it seems to me that Benedict's gift to religious life was to hold up the common life as having a certain dignity in its own right. For him, the cenobitic life was not just a less-than form compared to the ideal of the hermit-monk. Indeed, the eremetic life presupposed the common life which would be the ordinary school of holiness and salvation for those taking up the religious life.
Francis, in his devotion or arrogance, or maybe both, desired to live such a religious life in common at the maximally general level, calling every created thing his sister or brother.
Maybe it's whatever it is that makes my first priest insist (to this day) that I'm supposed to be a Benedictine (and maybe some of my Capuchin confreres would agree with him, I don't know), but it seems to me that anyone who lives or takes inspiration from the tradition of religious life in the western Church has an enormous debt to St. Benedict.
This isn't really an area where I have a lot of expertise, but it seems to me that Benedict's gift to religious life was to hold up the common life as having a certain dignity in its own right. For him, the cenobitic life was not just a less-than form compared to the ideal of the hermit-monk. Indeed, the eremetic life presupposed the common life which would be the ordinary school of holiness and salvation for those taking up the religious life.
Francis, in his devotion or arrogance, or maybe both, desired to live such a religious life in common at the maximally general level, calling every created thing his sister or brother.
July 7, 2011
Outburst
I love this moment in the first reading today:
Joseph could no longer control himself in the presence of all his attendants, so he cried out, “Have everyone withdraw from me!” Thus no one else was about when he made himself known to his brothers. (Genesis 45:1)
To me, it's a beautiful image of the Resurrection.
Joseph, after all, is a type and foreshadowing of Christ himself. Resented, abandoned, turned over to pagans and presumed dead by his brothers, Joseph ends up coming to power in a foreign kingdom and thereby is able to save his family from famine.
Joseph is recognized in his new power in Egypt when he can no longer control is emotions and reveals himself to his brothers. He "could no longer control himself" says the scripture. In the same way the Resurrection of Jesus Christ is like an emotional outburst; God's compassion is so much greater than the works of death and misery we have insisted upon for ourselves with our sins and violence. Despite our having dismissed, mocked, tortured and killed our own Lord, Jesus reveals that from this very state of rejection and death he has come into a new power in a Kingdom that is foreign to this world. The most high joy of the divine creativity comes to be experienced as forgiveness and reconciliation as God wills to not contain Himself and bursts out in the revealing of the Risen Lord.
Joseph could no longer control himself in the presence of all his attendants, so he cried out, “Have everyone withdraw from me!” Thus no one else was about when he made himself known to his brothers. (Genesis 45:1)
To me, it's a beautiful image of the Resurrection.
Joseph, after all, is a type and foreshadowing of Christ himself. Resented, abandoned, turned over to pagans and presumed dead by his brothers, Joseph ends up coming to power in a foreign kingdom and thereby is able to save his family from famine.
Joseph is recognized in his new power in Egypt when he can no longer control is emotions and reveals himself to his brothers. He "could no longer control himself" says the scripture. In the same way the Resurrection of Jesus Christ is like an emotional outburst; God's compassion is so much greater than the works of death and misery we have insisted upon for ourselves with our sins and violence. Despite our having dismissed, mocked, tortured and killed our own Lord, Jesus reveals that from this very state of rejection and death he has come into a new power in a Kingdom that is foreign to this world. The most high joy of the divine creativity comes to be experienced as forgiveness and reconciliation as God wills to not contain Himself and bursts out in the revealing of the Risen Lord.
July 2, 2011
Reading Old Constitutions
For reasons that will become clear in the coming weeks, or not, I've been reviewing some of the great legislative texts from the history of the Order. It's always amusing and comforting to read such things, because it helps you realize that things aren't much different from the way they have always been.
Today I'm reading the Constitutions of Narbonne, issued by the general chapter of the same name in 1260, and written by St. Bonaventure when he was general minister of the Order. Here are some favorite bits:
No animal for the use of any brother or place shall be kept by the Order or by any person in the name of the Order, except for cats and certain types of birds for the purposes of removing garbage.
In 1260 this was probably about income from livestock, but it remains a good rule. Somewhat ironically, pets tend to do poorly in friaries. They don't figure out why some love them and others don't, and become wrecks of anxiety.
They should not drink in any town or village where the brothers have a house.
So we should travel in order to go out drinking?
In their sermons the brother shall in no way ask that money be collected for themselves.
Should it happen that some troublesome or mischievous brother is transferred from one province in order to dwell in another, the minister whose province he is leaving is bound to inform the minister to whom he is being sent of his dangerous propensities, so that the latter may take appropriate measures. The general minister is likewise to inform him.
Let the ministers strive to restrain the loquaciousness of the brothers and in chapter to persuade them to keep silence at meals they take outside the refectory, since this is the desire of the general chapter.
Good luck with that.
No brother shall dare to assert or knowingly approve any theological opinion which has been commonly rejected by our masters, nor dare to defend any singular, suspect, or malicious opinion, especially one contrary to faith or morals.
Good luck with that one too.
In preparation for the provincial chapter, each guardian is to hold a chapter, where the faults and failings of the minister and custodian should be discussed, as well as any other matters which should be forwarded to the chapter for discussion. When it comes time to consider the faults of the guardian, another brother selected by him with the advice of some of the friary councilors shall preside over the chapter.
Yikes!
From Dominic Monti, OFM, ed. and trans. St. Bonaventure's Writings Concerning the Franciscan Order, Franciscan Institute, 1994.
Today I'm reading the Constitutions of Narbonne, issued by the general chapter of the same name in 1260, and written by St. Bonaventure when he was general minister of the Order. Here are some favorite bits:
No animal for the use of any brother or place shall be kept by the Order or by any person in the name of the Order, except for cats and certain types of birds for the purposes of removing garbage.
In 1260 this was probably about income from livestock, but it remains a good rule. Somewhat ironically, pets tend to do poorly in friaries. They don't figure out why some love them and others don't, and become wrecks of anxiety.
They should not drink in any town or village where the brothers have a house.
So we should travel in order to go out drinking?
In their sermons the brother shall in no way ask that money be collected for themselves.
Should it happen that some troublesome or mischievous brother is transferred from one province in order to dwell in another, the minister whose province he is leaving is bound to inform the minister to whom he is being sent of his dangerous propensities, so that the latter may take appropriate measures. The general minister is likewise to inform him.
Let the ministers strive to restrain the loquaciousness of the brothers and in chapter to persuade them to keep silence at meals they take outside the refectory, since this is the desire of the general chapter.
Good luck with that.
No brother shall dare to assert or knowingly approve any theological opinion which has been commonly rejected by our masters, nor dare to defend any singular, suspect, or malicious opinion, especially one contrary to faith or morals.
Good luck with that one too.
In preparation for the provincial chapter, each guardian is to hold a chapter, where the faults and failings of the minister and custodian should be discussed, as well as any other matters which should be forwarded to the chapter for discussion. When it comes time to consider the faults of the guardian, another brother selected by him with the advice of some of the friary councilors shall preside over the chapter.
Yikes!
From Dominic Monti, OFM, ed. and trans. St. Bonaventure's Writings Concerning the Franciscan Order, Franciscan Institute, 1994.
Immaculate Heart
Immaculate Heart of Mary is the feast day of my province of the Capuchin Order. As I said my prayers this morning I was just reflecting a little on this traditional image of Our Lady.
Mary's heart is an immaculate heart because she herself, in her whole person, is the Immaculate Conception. Her heart, the 'core' of the person, is without macula, any spot, stain, fault, or guilt.
On the other hand, images of the Immaculate Heart always remind us that Mary's heart is an injured heart, a hurt heart, run through with the sword of suffering as Simeon predicted at the beginning of her motherhood.
Pierced, hurt, and broken, her heart remains immaculate. In this Mary becomes herself a certain face, a particular perspective, on crucified humanity.
Everybody hurts, says the old song. Everyone on this earth is a victim of sin. The insidious power of violence and hurt is in its capacity to reproduce; the abused become abusers, injury demands retaliation, the misery of becoming separated from God by sin becomes the occasion for believing more of sin's false promises. Salvation enters the world when individual persons begin to refuse to become carriers of violence, alienation, and hurt. This is both the example and power of Christ crucified--the Passion of our Lord is humanity at its worst, when we are dismissing, mocking, torturing, and ultimately killing each other. Jesus, in that moment revealing most deeply both divinity and humanity, accepts all of it and gives us nothing back but the ultimate blessing of life that we call the Resurrection.
To become unwilling to be a carrier of the cycles of violence and sin that swirl through our relationships, families, and world is to embrace the Cross, to become an agent of the salvation that Jesus Christ has accomplished for the world. It is forgiveness against retaliation, blessing those who curse, loving one's enemies.
Here we might also note something that otherwise devout folks sometimes forget, that embracing the Cross in this way also excludes turning the violence of the world in on ourselves in the seemingly safe and pious turning of anger and scorn inside so that they become depression, anxiety, self-hate, and the sort of embrace of victimhood and misfortune that becomes a kind of rotten vanity. Jesus died and rose so that we could be free and happy, not so that we could sit around savoring the rotten luxury of our own misery, so long as we're not being hurtful to anyone else (even though we probably are hurting others by our attachment to our misery, but because we have become vainly focused on ourselves we fail to notice.)
Becoming a Christian will give us more heartbreak, not less. When we assent to the God-given dignity of humanity, the suffering of the world will hurt us more. When we assent to the teaching of the Church we will see how far we are from holiness. When we try to live a prayerful life, we will see how attached we are to our sins and the aspects of ourselves that conspire to pull us away from the joy God desires for us. Most of the time in the world, sin just makes more sin, misery begets more of itself, and violence reproduces itself in cycles. God's answer to this miserable situation is the Cross of Christ, which is both our example and empowerment (especially as we receive this sacrifice into our lives in Holy Communion) to break these cycles in ourselves, in our relationships, and in the world. God wants to make our hearts immaculate, hearts that are broken and pierced, and yet make an end to the cycles of hurt and brokenness in themselves, passing on, instead, nothing but blessing and new life to the world, becoming conceivers and bearers of God to the world.
Mary's heart is an immaculate heart because she herself, in her whole person, is the Immaculate Conception. Her heart, the 'core' of the person, is without macula, any spot, stain, fault, or guilt.On the other hand, images of the Immaculate Heart always remind us that Mary's heart is an injured heart, a hurt heart, run through with the sword of suffering as Simeon predicted at the beginning of her motherhood.
Pierced, hurt, and broken, her heart remains immaculate. In this Mary becomes herself a certain face, a particular perspective, on crucified humanity.
Everybody hurts, says the old song. Everyone on this earth is a victim of sin. The insidious power of violence and hurt is in its capacity to reproduce; the abused become abusers, injury demands retaliation, the misery of becoming separated from God by sin becomes the occasion for believing more of sin's false promises. Salvation enters the world when individual persons begin to refuse to become carriers of violence, alienation, and hurt. This is both the example and power of Christ crucified--the Passion of our Lord is humanity at its worst, when we are dismissing, mocking, torturing, and ultimately killing each other. Jesus, in that moment revealing most deeply both divinity and humanity, accepts all of it and gives us nothing back but the ultimate blessing of life that we call the Resurrection.
To become unwilling to be a carrier of the cycles of violence and sin that swirl through our relationships, families, and world is to embrace the Cross, to become an agent of the salvation that Jesus Christ has accomplished for the world. It is forgiveness against retaliation, blessing those who curse, loving one's enemies.
Here we might also note something that otherwise devout folks sometimes forget, that embracing the Cross in this way also excludes turning the violence of the world in on ourselves in the seemingly safe and pious turning of anger and scorn inside so that they become depression, anxiety, self-hate, and the sort of embrace of victimhood and misfortune that becomes a kind of rotten vanity. Jesus died and rose so that we could be free and happy, not so that we could sit around savoring the rotten luxury of our own misery, so long as we're not being hurtful to anyone else (even though we probably are hurting others by our attachment to our misery, but because we have become vainly focused on ourselves we fail to notice.)
Becoming a Christian will give us more heartbreak, not less. When we assent to the God-given dignity of humanity, the suffering of the world will hurt us more. When we assent to the teaching of the Church we will see how far we are from holiness. When we try to live a prayerful life, we will see how attached we are to our sins and the aspects of ourselves that conspire to pull us away from the joy God desires for us. Most of the time in the world, sin just makes more sin, misery begets more of itself, and violence reproduces itself in cycles. God's answer to this miserable situation is the Cross of Christ, which is both our example and empowerment (especially as we receive this sacrifice into our lives in Holy Communion) to break these cycles in ourselves, in our relationships, and in the world. God wants to make our hearts immaculate, hearts that are broken and pierced, and yet make an end to the cycles of hurt and brokenness in themselves, passing on, instead, nothing but blessing and new life to the world, becoming conceivers and bearers of God to the world.
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