4.18.14

Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me.

About 18 months ago I started a spiritual practice of meditating for a few minutes (anywhere from 5-15, depending on the day) while praying The Jesus Prayer in time with my breathing. I recommend it to anyone, really, for a few reasons: 1) The practice of paying attention to one's breath is an excellent way to manage stress and improve concentration, 2) Beginning one's day by praying for, pleading for, and remembering God's mercy reminds one of one's place in the world, and 3) Combining breath with prayer develops a pattern of unconscious prayer - one is able to pray without ceasing without being totally aware of the prayer.

And that's good, because sometimes words fail you and all you can do is breathe.

I don't know if it's because of Holy Week, or because I'm coming to the end of my fast, or because we're nearing the end of the semester, but this week felt like an uphill battle. I wrote a 'summary' of Monday thru Thursday in my journal that took up a full page; I won't bore you with the details. By Tuesday night, however, I had noticed a pattern - I would tell myself, "___ is almost over; I'm so glad I can go to ___ and not really exert any energy." I would go to ___ and promptly be thrown into a situation that demanded my best effort and every bit of energy I didn't have.

What was amazing was that in the midst of the chaos and at the end of each day I didn't feel defeated. I also didn't feel exhilarated, like I had accomplished something. In the midst of the chaos and the silence I only had time and energy for one thought.

Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me.

Breathe in. Breath out. Try to think of a prayer.

Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on them.

Embrace the silence. Focus on responding. Realize that it is God working through me, that he is right there in the silence and the noise. He doesn't put me in trying circumstances to show me that I can handle them, but to show me that it is always he who handles them. He knows what needs to be done, and he is working tirelessly, and he brings me with him like my dad letting me ride along to Home Depot - not because he needs my help, but because he wants me to be involved.

Last Friday when I finished reading The Way of the Heart I started a new book, Strengthening the Soul of Your Leadership by Ruth Haley Barton. At the end of the each chapter she includes an exercise; last week it was a time of meditation, to listen for the thing that your soul wants to say to God and has not found the words to express. I prayed that God would show me why I am here - physically, in Fort Wayne, so far from the things I hoped for when I started job searching - and what it is he wants from me while I am here. I forgot the prayer until I sat down on Thursday to look at my journal. It wasn't an easy answer, but I feel that this week has been an answer.

Lord Jesus Christ, Have Mercy

4.11.14

Last year I remember discussing with Jimmy and Nate whether Nouwen books 'count' for the 52x52 challenge because they're usually less than 100 pages long. I picked this book up because it seemed appropriate to my Lenten fast and, admittedly, because I thought it might be a quick read. Turns out, it is one of the hardest books I have read in a long time. Three chapters with an introduction and a conclusion should not be difficult to get through, but I found myself reading sections a second or third time, letting the words sink in and worrying them over in my mind until I could place a finger on what was challenging me.

In The Way of the Heart, Nouwen provides an introduction to the thoughts of the Desert Fathers and explains the call they heard to go into the desert as three commands: Flee. Be Silent. And Pray. He discusses the practices that transformed them, and that could transform us, if we let them, in those three terms - solitude, silence, and prayer. The Fathers, he says, were looking for a new martyrdom that would help them to separate themselves from the sinking ship of society so that when they ministered to others they could do so with God's heart instead of simply perpetuating the twisted values of the World.

It was a difficult read not because of large words (because Nouwen really doesn't use large words or heavy explanations), but because I recognize the truth of what Nouwen is saying and want to embrace it, but I struggle with integrating it into my life. As an RD it really is easy to get swept up into busyness, wordyness, and distraction of campus culture and imagine that the fate of the world depends on my efforts. I easily forget that only God can really change people, and that if I am not near to him I will be less fit to draw others near to him.

Here is an excerpt from the conclusion that I copied to my journal because it describes the contrast between the way I am now and the way I want to be:

"The temptation is to go mad with those who are made and to go around yelling and screaming, telling everyone where to go, what to do, and how to behave. The temptation is to become so involved in the agonies and ecstasies of the last days that we will drown together with those we are trying to save.

"...When we have been remodeled into living witnesses of Christ through solitude, silence, and prayer, we will not longer have to worry about whether we are saying the right thing or making the right gesture, because then Christ will make his presence known even when we are not aware of it." 

4.8.14

This week the craving hit me... for meat. Any meat. All meat. Seriously. I'm surprised it didn't happen earlier, but I'm glad it didn't because I don't think I could make it more than two weeks after this. Desperately craving steak, to be completely honest.

That would be a nice birthday meal, wouldn't it? Ribs and fries, with a milkshake... and again with the craving.

3.30.14

So it's a feast day again, and I may surprise you by saying that I don't particularly like the fact that there are feast days.

Why, you ask? It took me a while to come around to the answer, because at face value it makes sense that when you choose to deprive yourself of something and you find out that on every seventh day you get a break from the deprivation, you would thoroughly enjoy the seventh day. And, well, that's the point of the Sabbath anyway - like I wrote a few years ago, every Sunday is a day of remembrance of that day on which the sinless man who had been beaten, humiliated, and murdered was raised from the dead. It's kind of a big deal, and definitely a reason for celebration and feasting.

I must conclude that the problem isn't with the the principle of feasting, it's in my approach to fasting.

I have a fascination with doing difficult things - a complicated word problem, dragging myself out of bed at dawn for a day of hard labor, stress hikes, the all-night study session - because of the personal satisfaction I feel at the end of it. Additionally, I have a strange enjoyment of the deprivation itself, the experience of "mind over matter" as I flex my muscles of self-denial. Put those things together and you have a temperament always up for a challenge and willing to make sacrifices to accomplish something. Put that way, I sound like a pretty great person, don't I? So what's wrong with the picture?

I find that I resent the upcoming weekly breaks in the fast because they remind me that fast isn't about me at all, nor about how much I can handle or how good a person I'll be when I have "gone without" for a few weeks. In fact, I anticipate that each Sunday will feel like resetting of all of the endurance I have built up over the previous six days and Monday begins just a little more miserable than Saturday. Ultimately the posture of fasting shouldn't be about facing down a challenge or proving one's will-power, it should be a posture of mourning over one's weakness, submission to God, and soberly rejoicing in his grace.

I can say that, but I don't completely understand it. Mourning, submission, and sobriety are not popular postures and they appear rarely in my life. I can only hope that the contrast of fasting with feasting will teach me to comprehend them better.

3.24.14

And today... I started complaining. Not about what I can't have, but about what I do have. Believe it or not, I'm okay with not having meat, but I am SO TIRED OF: spinach, cottage cheese, applesauce, chick peas, peanut butter, green peppers, cucumbers,etc. All the healthy things. The plenty, the fresh, the things that are made available to me even though I don't work for them... I'm complaining about them.

If I'm ever tempted to judge Israel for complaining to Moses about their food, I'll remember this. It's been less than three weeks, and they had 40 years.

3.15.14

Rice, beans, fruits, vegetables, dairy, spices. It's not a long list, but it is enough. Most people I know don't think in terms of enough, they think in terms of what they want and imagine that the two are synonymous - when they have what they want then it will be enough.

"Enough" for me started when I interviewed for this job at the University of Saint Francis. Knowing they supported Franciscan values, I asked if they included poverty as one of those values - didn't Francis give his clothes away and beg in the streets, only to give away (again) everything but what he needed to survive? Wouldn't it be cool if there was a residence life experience that taught you about real poverty and made you ask how much is 'enough'? I am still asking myself this question and pondering the answers. In January when I first considered this Lenten fast I felt drawn to a few Bible verses:

I read some of this book in college.
but I thought he was crazy
and probably a liberal
I should have paid more attention
I could have saved a lot of time
figuring out that love is radical
and sometimes liberal
and God is not really about
maintaining the status quo.

There are three things that are never satisfied,
four that never say, "Enough!"
the grave,
the barren womb,
land, which is never satisfied with water,
and fire, which never says, "Enough!"

"What should we do then?"
"Anyone who has two shirts should share with the one who has none, and anyone who has food should do the same."

"But to you who are listening I say: Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistrust you. If someone slaps you on one cheek, turn to them the other also. If someone takes your cloak, do not withhold your shirt from them. Give to everyone who asks you, and if anyone takes what belongs to you, do not demand it back. Do to others as you would have them do to you."

These are pretty radical statements. I don't want to be like the grave or the consuming fire, I want to know when I have enough and still be willing to give that away. Jesus proposed... no, he didn't propose, he commanded a very radical kind of generosity. I've been coming to realize that I don't know how to follow that command because my expectations are set too high. "Give until it hurts" means very little in the grand scheme of things because 'hurts' can mean having no budget for coffee at the local coffee shop, or reducing the amount of money I spend on personal entertainment in a month. I don't have a frame of reference for 'hurt,' and therefore my generosity always falls short of Jesus' command and the real needs of the world.

Here at the end of a restful and indulgent spring break (indulgent within the bounds of my fast - it's amazing how creative one can be when one has rice flour and condensed milk) these are my thoughts. How will I know what is enough? Is my fast really selfish if it does not include giving - of my money, of my time, of my resources - the way Jesus commanded me? How do I make sure that this spiritual practice has a tangible effect on my life after the Lenten season?

3.9.14

I knew that Lent was "forty days not including Sundays," but I never stopped to consider what that meant. You won't be surprised at my joy when I learned, from a RA who ought to know, that in Catholic practice the fast does not include the Lord's Day. So on Sunday I can do (or rather, eat) what I want*. So this is my first feast day and it couldn't come at a better time - it's Spring Break here at USF, and my sister is here to visit for the week. It's providential that we are both participating in this fast, because otherwise it would be a miserable week for one of us.

This first feast day has been full of small blessings, some of which were in disguise. I got up at an obscene hour this morning to drive to Waterloo only to discover that my sister's train was delayed by an hour... but as I sat there for an hour and a half waiting for her to arrive, I got to watch a beautiful sunrise. We got breakfast at a cute little diner, and let me tell you pancakes and bacon have never tasted so good. I went to church alone while my sister napped to make up for the sleep lost on the train, and then we went out to dinner and found the best pizza ever at Toscani Pizzeria. Again, pizza and Sam Adam's have never tasted so good. There was ice cream, later, and a movie, and general happiness. It was a good Sabbath.

It kind of sounds like my day was driven by food, doesn't it? And perhaps it was, and perhaps that's okay. Instead of paying attention to a list of rules, I was able to experience the God's lavish generosity of flavor and human creativity. That's kind of a big deal.

But the blessing I was most grateful for on this feast day was being able to eat with someone I care about.

*Incidentally, this is probably why it's best not to use Lent to overcome a bad habit or vice; 28 days may break a habit, but taking every seventh day off probably won't help much. :)

3.6.14

In case you were wondering why I'm talking about Ash Wednesday when it's after Easter...

"When you fast, do not look somber as the hypocrites do, for they disfigure their faces to show others they are fasting. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full. But when you fast, put oil on your head and wash your face, so that it will not be obvious to others that you are fasting, but only to your Father, who is unseen; and your father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you." - Matthew 6:16-17 -

Taking the time to blog about this spiritual practice is good for me on a larger scale than simply writing in a journal because here I need to be specific and clear about what I am trying to do, and there is a larger audience to hold me accountable to the lessons I learn while I do this. However, I want to take Jesus' teaching seriously. My early understanding of Christianity had a lot to do with appearances and I feel a special affinity to the Pharisees who desperately wanted to understand and love God but often got bogged down in the rules and the appearance of piety. I don't want that to be me.

Therefore, while I am serious about this Lenten observance, I am trying not to make a big deal of it. I don't intend to lie - and I'm sure that some people are going to ask why I'm eating a lot of cottage cheese and no pasta or meat - but I want to stay as low-key as possible. I want to rend my heart rather than my garments, so I am scheduling these posts to be published after the Lenten season.

My sister is doing this Lenten fast with me, and we had a pretty funny text exchange. Yesterday I had asked her if she thought I should go to Mass and she misunderstood and thought that I was telling her to do so. She responded that she was getting enough weird looks from friends who were, likewise, raised protestant and didn't understand while she would choose to fast. She mentioned Matthew 6 and suggested that Jesus was really saying:

Speak not of when you fast... for everyone around you will treat you like a freak and judge the crap out of you, so it's really for your mental healthy.

We were joking, of course, but I'm on the other side of the issue right now. Here, fasting is understood, although it may seem strange to them that I fast when I am not Catholic. I feel my bigger struggle will be personal - learning not to long for what I don't have an not to make a big deal of what I am choosing not to eat. It seems pointless to complain when, even in my self-imposed constraints, I have plenty.

3.5.14

Ash Wednesday was never on my radar before. What can I say? I'm protestant. I'm not sure if it's because I'm working at a Catholic university or because of where I am in my life right now, but this year I wanted it to be different. For the last six years my time has been marked by the school year - counting down to exams and to summer jobs and to the exciting start of a new semester. It's been fun, but it's about time to grow up and invest deeply in the things God wants me to learn rather than what an institution requires of me at the moment. I decided to start with Lent; here are a few of my thoughts as I begin this experience:

My Lenten observance this year includes rather strict dietary restrictions. I am going to try to limit my diet to rice, beans, fruits and vegetables, and dairy.

1. I started with rice and beans because these foods that are staples for most of the world's populations factor minimally in my usual American fare. Preparing rice and beans for myself and eating them regularly will help me to remember that around the world people are grateful for these simple foods, as I should be.
2. Fruits and vegetables are on the list because, although there is poverty in the world, I have plenty. As a hall director I have a meal plan for the campus cafeteria, where nutrition and leafy green vegetables are regularly available. God has blessed me, and I want to be reminded of his blessing often between now and Easter.
3. Dairy made the list for health reasons - I work out a few times a week and I don't think I'll be able to get enough protein in my diet without it. Also, I can't imagine eating a spinach salad without my cottage cheese.

While I was making my plans I saw a meme on Facebook that said "Fasting without prayer is simply a diet." Fair point, right? As I understand it, the restrictions I listed up there ^ actually make up a pretty healthy diet and there's nothing wrong with that. But what's really important is what the fast signifies - I want to simplify my life so that I can hear God's voice. I want to feel hungry and to be annoyed by the blandness of my food and to be reminded that God provides me with more than enough. I want extra time at meals to appreciate the people around me. I want to read God's word without distraction and to take the time to pray for my residents. I want... to learn what fasting is really about. So I went to the Ash Wednesday mass on campus and heard Scripture read, from the prophet Joel. Rend your heart and not your garments. Why should they say among the peoples, "Where is their God?"

“Even now,” declares the Lord,
    “return to me with all your heart,
    with fasting and weeping and mourning.”

Rend your heart
    and not your garments.
Return to the Lord your God,
    for he is gracious and compassionate,
slow to anger and abounding in love,
    and he relents from sending calamity.

Who knows? He may turn and relent
    and leave behind a blessing—
grain offerings and drink offerings
    for the Lord your God.

Blow the trumpet in Zion,
    declare a holy fast,
    call a sacred assembly.
 Gather the people,
    consecrate the assembly;
bring together the elders,
    gather the children,
    those nursing at the breast.
Let the bridegroom leave his room
    and the bride her chamber.

Let the priests, who minister before the Lord,
    weep between the portico and the altar.
Let them say, “Spare your people, Lord.
    Do not make your inheritance an object of scorn,
    a byword among the nations.
Why should they say among the peoples,
    ‘Where is their God?’”