Browsing category: Chapter 4-The Tools for Good Works

  • Wholly Holy And Hale

    Do not aspire to be called holy before you really are, but first be holy that you may more truly be called so.  Live by God’s commandments every day. (Rule of St. Benedict 4. 62-63)

    Of all the archaic vocabulary words that have become vestigial, holy has to be the most vacuous.  We have no idea what it means, but we’re pretty sure we don’t want to go there.  It’s probably the Christian equivalent of a no fat, no sugar, no salt, gluten-free, vegan blueberry muffin.

    You try it.

    (They make it look like a blueberry muffin, but a deep human instinct tells you that it’s going to be a bad experience.)

    What we’ve heard about holiness is that there’s no money, sex or power in it.  It’s sinless and spiritual.

    Definitely go for it.

    Naturally there are people who want to be holy, just as there are people who try to make you eat their special muffins.  You pay attention to who they are, and you make a mental note to breakfast elsewhere next time.

    (Of course we’re still friends!)

    Although we don’t take the word “holy” seriously anymore in everyday speech, its cognate, “whole” is a workhorse we use all the time.  Whole and holy are linguistic twins, but over the course of nine hundred years, the version without the W specialized as a religious term, while the other one got a regular job and put food on the table.  At birth their meaning was: entire, unhurt, healthy, free of wound or injury.  Whole also originally meant “restored,” in the sense of having recovered from a wound or injury, being healed.

    As a matter of fact, the Old English parent word is still alive and kicking, pronunciation unchanged through the centuries.  It is “hale,” as in hale and hearty, free from defect, disease or infirmity, retaining exceptional health and vigor.  You could still use this word, if you ever met anyone who fit the description.

    Linguistically it’s entirely plausible to assert that a holy life is a life restored to wholeness, a healthy, vibrant life.

    Of course, St. Benedict was writing several centuries before any version of English existed at all.  In Latin, his choice was “sanctum,” a word that English eventually swallowed whole to mean “sacred place.”   For him and still for us, it means dedicated or set apart for the service of deity.

    Latin was a pagan language.  In Latin it’s possible to be sacred to the deity and therefore murdered; pimped out as a temple prostitute; locked in an iron cage and suspended over toxic fumes to induce entertaining prophecies for the pilgrims.  No one ever claimed that the pagan gods were faithful friends. On the contrary, they were reputed to be fickle, capricious, cruel.  You sacrificed to the gods in order to buy their favor, or to buy off their wrath.  The thing (or the person) you gave was then sacred to the god. To be sacred to the god was to be consumed by the god.

    But English developed as a Christian language and follows a different logic.  Holiness merges the concepts “sacred” and “hale” inextricably.  This is because our deity wants our good.  He doesn’t want to consume us.  He flaunts the whole concept of religion by requiring us to consume him.  What he wants from us is an interior change of heart that produces action for good.  When we’ve done wrong, he wants us to feel remorse and apologize to the person we’ve hurt.  He wants us to feel pity and do something to help when we see someone suffering.  When he gives us opportunities and resources, he wants us to feel responsible and work to establish justice.

    In exchange for dedicating your life to him, he offers to make your death temporary.  You will pass through death and emerge immortal.  As for your experience in this life, the language itself bears witness that when you offer yourself to the service of Christ, resolving to live by his commands, you will experience a restoration to wholeness.

    Live whole.  Die good.  Be hale forever.

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  • Bless Those Who Blast You

    If people curse you, do not curse them back but bless them instead. (Rule of St. Benedict 4. 32)

    Sadly, the right to retaliate is not an inalienable right.  It may be necessary to fight your enemies and to defeat them, for the sake of the common good.  But the Christian must not inflict harm merely for the satisfaction of revenge.  Yes, it’s hard.  And unfortunately, this isn’t just St. Benedict’s idea.  This is Jesus himself Luke 6:28.

    Can we give them the light-activated puzzle map of the United States?  If they fail to replace Montana, Alabama and Arizona, they’ll be learning about Helena, Montgomery and Phoenix every time the headlights of a passing car flicker through a chink in the curtains.  If they bury it under blankets in the closet, in the middle of the night a strangled voice will say, “New Jersey: Trenton.”

    Not only are we not allowed to give their children motion-sensitive, musical toys with no OFF button: God requires us to pray for them as well.

    When we suffer an insult from another person, we have a reaction, anger, which is as natural as the body’s inflammatory response to injury.  If you didn’t feel anger at being wronged, it would be an emotional failure, just as it would be sick for your body not to react to a wound.  But just as your inflammatory response can itself become a problem if it doesn’t subside, so anger can become destructive to the person who feels it.

    St. Paul describes anger as the devil’s foothold Ephesians 4:26-27 (also translated “place,” “room,” “opportunity.”)  Anger serves as the devil’s foothold because it’s not in itself wrong.  All the other vices are absolutes.  Only anger has this ambiguous quality of being at the same time justified and harmful.  St. Paul tells us, “Be angry but do not sin.”  This means that anger itself is not the sin.  The sin is what the devil tempts you to do when you’re angry.

    Your anger is just.  The wrong is real.  To dismiss the offense would flaunt the law of God.  But because the anger is justified, the devil can easily slip in temptations to vengeful acts which are against God’s law too.  So, anger functions as the gateway through which righteous people can be tempted to do things which normally would repel them.

    When the thirst for revenge sets in, it’s like a bacterial infection that develops in a contaminated wound. If it isn’t addressed immediately, it can become chronic, like vengeful feelings that persist for years after an offense.  The infection can invade your entire body and ruin your health.  Vengeful feelings can obsess you even after the perpetrator is dead.

    It’s true that revenge can attain to the level of tragedy.  There are wrongs that no mere mortal can bear alone.  But usually the vindictive person is shallow and selfish.  It’s the conceited person who punishes someone for an honest remark.  It’s the spiteful person who exacts retribution for a petty grievance.  You don’t want to become that person.

    This is why God prescribes such a horse-pill.  Praying a blessing on the person who has wronged you is like swallowing one of those enormous pills.  The prayer operates like an antibiotic within the soul to combat vengeance.  You don’t have to be enthusiastic about it, not anymore than you have to like those pills.  It may take you more than one try to get it down.  Your natural gag reflex might seem at first insurmountable.  But even a nauseated blessing through clenched teeth will begin to alter your interior state.  Whenever you have vengeful feelings, say, “God bless [so and so].”  That’s all you have to do, but you may have to do it many times, every three hours for weeks. Daily for months. Weekly for years.

    You’re not requesting on their behalf a life of luxury, flippant and carefree.  Still less are you asking for evildoers to continue to do harm with impunity.  When you bless those who’ve mistreated you, you’re asking God to intervene in their lives.  You may have detailed ideas for how exactly God could proceed. He will consider your suggestions fairly.  But at the end of the day, you surrender judgment to Christ.

    Who is the person who does inspire respect?  It’s the one who can laugh off an insult and make a joke of it. The one who sticks to principle in the face of harassment is inspiring, not the one who lashes out in fury. The one who gets back up after being knocked down and keeps right on running toward the goal: that’s who you want to be. Outmaneuver your opponents. Leave them in the dust, and leave revenge in the hands of God. “‘Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord.‘”

     

     

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  • Hallow Your Speech Or Hollow Your Home

    When my first child asked me if Santa Claus was real, I told her quite frankly: “No.” She didn’t believe me. She argued with me. On Christmas morning she rebuked me: “See, Mommy! Look at all these presents. Where do you think these presents came from, if Santa isn’t real?”

    With my second child, I patiently explained that Santa is based on a real person, Saint Nicolas, who lived a long time ago and started the custom of giving presents to poor children at Christmas. Then I got a phone call from my mother: “Do you realize that Anthony is going around telling people that Santa Claus is dead?”

    With the third child, I decided to let my husband handle this issue. Shamelessly he played along with the whole charade. Not only Santa but the Tooth Fairy was real. He snuck presents under the tree and put absurd amounts of money under her pillow, inflating the value of teeth and provoking competition.

    With the fourth child I avoided the whole problem. I agreed that it was too bad the Tooth Fairy didn’t show up, but she might try selling her tooth to her dad instead. I told her to ask her siblings about Santa.

    I recognize that there’s a vast chasm of difference between enjoyable fictions that everyone participates in and, on the other hand, corrupt systems in which the innocent are manipulated by the selfish. It’s one thing to let Santa live on in everyone’s imagination. It’s another thing to lie to your children in order to induce them to do what you want, quickly and without protest.

    There is a place in a child’s life for a teller of tall tales. The tall-tale-teller wants the children to grow up knowing how to distinguish truth from falsehood. Nothing tickles a tale-teller so much as the efforts of a knee-high pipsqueak to put one over on him. And sometimes the pipsqueak wins this game, to everyone’s delight. It’s a game that sharpens the wits, just as tossing balls in the back yard develops athletic skills.

    But then there are adults who hate to see the children maturing, because they no longer believe the little white lies we tell them. How nasty these teenagers are, and how sweet they used to be, back when they still believed everything we said. We used to monitor them electronically. Now they know more about technology than we do, and we can’t even figure out how they’re evading our surveillance. We still track their phones, but they never take our calls, so in the end we don’t know what’s going on in their lives, because they don’t want to talk to us.

    The thing is, if your children can’t trust you to tell the truth about an inane character like the Tooth Fairy, how can they trust you on more important topics?

    If you actually do care about your children, no doubt eventually trust will return. Terminal deceit, from which there is no return is the pretense of love on the part of a parent who is essentially selfish. The friendly father who abandons his family is hollow. The effusive mother who neglects her children is hollow. There’s no need to wonder whose façade is fake. When the perfect-looking marriage collapses, and the hollow family splays out in the open, you’ll wish you didn’t get that sickening glimpse inside.

    The opposite of hollow is to be truly, through and through, what you claim to be. It means actually taking care of your children, and part of that job is to teach them the truth. Fiction can play a role in this, because truth is complex. But your teenagers won’t confide in you if they’ve learned that you rate your immediate convenience above their ultimate good. They’ll have learned your deceptive strategies and will apply them back to you. So consider which sort of parent you’re going to be.

    In the short term, manipulation gets results. But in the long run, integrity stands.

    (Rule of Saint Benedict 4. 24-28)

     

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  • Let Go Of Your Grudge

    A grievance can be like a splinter in the sole of your foot. You don’t want to stop to deal with it. You hope it will work its way out by itself. But it doesn’t work its way out: it wriggles in deeper. It causes more pain, and you think maybe you’ll get used to it. But not only does the pain intensify, it begins to spread, so that the whole area around the splinter becomes hypersensitive. You must take action to get rid of it, and even for just a splinter you might need help with the extraction.

    But not all grievances are like splinters. If you had a bullet in your chest, you wouldn’t hope it would extract itself. You’d know you’d need a surgeon urgently. The more serious an offense is, the more urgent it is for you to let go of your grievance. Refusing to let go of it because it’s the other person’s fault is like refusing to let the surgeon extract a bullet because someone else shot you. Yes, it’s the other person’s fault. But you are the one who has been injured. Therefore you are the one who must undergo treatment. It will be a painful and difficult experience, but in the long run you’ll be much better off than the person crippled by a lifetime’s worth of retained grievances.

    How do we distinguish a grudge from everything else roiling inside?

    A grudge is not horror at evil. If someone who was supposed to be good harms you, what you may feel, more intensely than rancor at the offense is horror at the evil of which you are now aware. Horror is not something you can let go of, not anymore than you can let go of the shadow cast by darkening clouds overhead. Only God can clear the skies for you.

    A grudge is not grief at love spurned. If someone you’ve loved cuts you off, what you must let go of is the grievance at the injustice of it. The sorrow will endure.

    A grudge is not fear of future harm. If someone hurts you who has the power to do so again, you can’t let go of the past while still eaten up with anxiety at what might happen next. Pray for deliverance from your enemy: the Psalms are full of such prayers.

    A grudge is not the memory of what occurred. If you have the sort of imaginative memory that serves up again and again not only the details but all the original feelings, so that you relive the experience over and over, you may dearly wish you could let it go, but you can’t escape your own mind. Consider this: Jesus when he visited his disciples after his resurrection still had holes in his hands and a gash in his side—but the wounds didn’t bother him. So too will yours be, if you commit them to God. Forgiving doesn’t have to mean forgetting.

    Unlike these living emotions of horror, grief, fear and pain, a grudge is a cold, hard, dead thing within you, impervious to change. It wants revenge and will always want revenge, long after you’ve ceased to feel anything else.

    When the thirst for vengeance sets in, it’s like a bacterial infection that develops in a contaminated wound. If it isn’t addressed at once, it can become chronic, like vengeful feelings that persist for years after an offense. The infection can invade your whole body and ruin your health. Vengeful thoughts can obsess you even after the perpetrator is dead. You become vindictive and spiteful. You can’t punish the person who harmed you, so you lash out at someone else nearby. You exact retribution for every petty offense, because everything irritates your sensitive area, and eventually every area is sensitized, because you go through life collecting grievances. Rancor is the only emotion you know anymore, but the word is unfamiliar, because the spiritual state is so normalized that no one names it.

    Jesus tells us to pray, “Forgive us our debts as we also have forgiven our debtors.” The phrase rolls off the tongue easily, but living it may involve a long, hard ordeal. It’s what you’ve got to do, though, if you want to live.

    How? You have to accept what God said a long time ago: “‘Vengeance is mine, I will repay.’” This isn’t forgiveness yet: but it’s a necessary step on the way to forgiveness.

     

    (Rule of Saint Benedict 4.23)

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  • Rid Yourself Of Anger

    It’s easy to be angry when responsible for running a household with children, because children are constantly doing things wrong. The more children you’re responsible for, and the less help you have, the easier it is to remain in a state of perpetual irritation. But a chronic state is not necessarily a good state. Jesus insists: But I say to you that if you are angry with a brother or sister, you will be liable to judgment (Matthew 5:22). This makes the anger itself a problem, or at least the imminent indicator of a problem that is looming.

     

    So where does the anger come from?

     

    Habitual anger is the result of ingrained dissatisfaction. If we constantly focus on the myriad disappointments of life, on the people who don’t live up to our standards, anger will always be at our elbow.

     

    It’s true that yearning for the better thing is a powerful motivator toward the good. But lots of factors are out of our control. There’s only so much we can do to achieve what we want, and anger is a natural response to frustration. If the frustration collapses into despair, we give up working toward the goal and are left with nothing but the chafing desire for something we don’t believe we’ll ever get.

     

    This simmering soup of dissatisfaction, disappointment and hopelessness is such a regular meal for so many people that we might describe it as the national spiritual dish of the U.S.A. Left unattended, it can boil over suddenly into violence. The culture we live in keeps the heat up relentlessly. They can’t sell you what you don’t want, so they pour big bucks into figuring out how to make you want it. Not everyone gets to the boilover point, but a lot of people remain in a constant state of miserable frothing beneath rattling lids.

     

    The antidote to anger is joy. You cannot enjoy something and simultaneously feel angry. Joy casts out anger.

     

    Joy in its ultimate form is a lofty mystery. But the pathway to joy begins anywhere, in the small, ordinary thing that you can genuinely enjoy in this moment. Don’t worry about great saints who weirdly experienced joy in the midst of torture. You can begin to feel joyful simply by focusing on whatever good presents itself now, and giving thanks for it.

     

    It can take a huge effort to haul your attention away from the disappointments you’ve been focusing on, but the benefits of doing so are life-changing. As with physical medication, you have to give this practice some time to work. You know that if you swallow a couple of pills for your headache, it’s going to take half an hour for them to take effect. Similarly, begin to make the effort to thank God for what you can enjoy, and soon you’ll begin to feel relief from chronic anger. Just realize that this treatment needs to be an ongoing practice. Thankfulness has to build up in your system and maintain a certain level in your awareness in order to be effective. This means that you must develop a habit of thankfulness to counter the habit of dissatisfaction.

     

    For Christians, thankfulness is not a vague, self-referential shot in the dark. It’s not that we work ourselves up to feeling thankful in general to nobody in particular. We believe that God is the originator of all good: that’s why we thank him for what we enjoy.

     

    We also recognize that human beings have the freedom to choose evil or good. So when someone does a kind thing, that person truly deserves thanks. We practice saying thank you to people for what they’ve done for us not just as a social reflex, but because of freedom. The person who voluntarily does something for you could have omitted that action. So, say thank you to the people through whom you receive good things.

     

    When you thank your children for their good attempts, you’ll find that not only your outlook but their attitudes change for the better. Yes, everything will still be imperfect. But you’ll be imperfectly happy rather than perfectly unhappy all the time.

     

     

    (Rule of Saint Benedict 4.22)

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  • Refrain From Adultery

    Adultery–who does it with whom, when, where and with what consequences–is an endlessly fascinating topic for all societies, and in the literatures of all languages.  Adultery is interesting.  Same old same old is boring.  Bored people commit adultery.

    You may not think of yourself as bored.  You may think of yourself as interesting but unappreciated.  Never mind.  You still don’t have to turn into the sort of person who commits adultery just for the thrill of it.  Cultivate variety in your life–in other areas.  Take on interesting challenges.  Set ambitious goals.  Find something other than sex that motivates you.  Find something other than yourself that holds your attention.

    But what if you’re really tempted?  What if your marriage has degenerated to the point where there’s nothing much left: no camaraderie, no communication, no sex.  What if you don’t even see your spouse, most of the time?  And then you meet someone attractive: someone you enjoy looking at, or talking to, or both.

    Do nothing.  Adultery is not a sin that you’re going to commit inadvertently.  No doubt someone, somewhere has committed adultery by mistake, distracted by something else.  But for most people, this particular transgression involves planning, or at least a series of conscious actions.  There needs to be communication, maneuvering, overcoming of obstacles.  That’s why it’s interesting.  If it were just the pull of inertia, you might as well go home to your spouse and save yourself the part where your kids cry themselves to sleep every night.

    If, like everyone else who has ever had a job, you meet someone attractive at work, the do-nothing rule will ensure that no one ever knows how you feel, because most people’s jobs do not pay them to express their feelings about their coworkers.

    What if you’re required to attend one of those seminars where total strangers goad people into sharing their impressions of each other?

    If you’re clever enough to have that sort of job, you’re clever enough to think of something noncommittal to say.

    What if it’s not a co-worker, but someone you interact with socially: the spouse of a friend; the parent of your child’s friend; someone from long before you were ever married?  The possibilities are endless, and there’s no question that some situations are poignant.  You may be attracted to someone whom you have every reason to respect and like, whom you cannot avoid interacting with, and whom you genuinely care about.  Still, if you do nothing, you won’t commit adultery.

    The do-nothing rule doesn’t mean you aren’t working hard.  To refrain from the action that you could take is the spiritual equivalent of isometric muscular contractions.  Nothing moves, and no one sees anything happening, but it’s very hard to sustain over time.  This is why you need an active outlet for your frustrations: because in tense situations, doing nothing becomes unbearable.

    What if it’s not about a relationship at all?  It’s just sex.  Your spouse can’t keep up with you; is absent, ill, or somewhere else along the spectrum from unwilling to repulsive.

    It’s still adultery.  It’s not a massage.

    What if you never touch another human body?  What if it’s virtual?  What if it’s a really old porn video and everyone in it is dead already?

    Jesus suggests chopping off your right hand (Matthew 5:29-30).  If you’re left-handed, you might have to go for the other side.  But before you try mutilation, you might try improving your relationship with your spouse.  Improving your relationship may not mean improving your spouse.  It may mean improving something else in your life to make your relationship more enjoyable.

    And you must pray:  “Do not lead us into temptation, but deliver us from evil” (Matthew 6:13).  Your situation no matter how miserable is not tragic, because God is faithful and will answer prayers.  More specifically, he answers the prayers of people who do the right thing (James 5:16). So do clamor to God to get you out of the situation you’re in and into a better one.  Maybe you need a seismic shift.  God can do seismic shifts.  Maybe you need a new job, a new town, a miracle–love?

    Don’t be surprised that you feel devoid of love.  Everyone gets there.  Not if, but when you’re out of love, turn to God, the source of love, and ask him to give you love for your spouse.  Of course, you have to find within yourself at least a faint wish to love your spouse.  You may need to ask for that first.

    It may not feel like the excitement you want.  It may feel, instead, like the tide imperceptibly flowing in and lifting your beached boat off the sandbar.

    (Rule of St. Benedict 4.4)

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  • Trick Or Treat

    Obey the orders of the abbot unreservedly, even if his own conduct—which God forbid—be at odds with what he says.  Remember the teaching of the Lord: Do what they say, not what they do Matthew 23:3.  (RB 4.61)

    Do what I say, not what I do?

    Well, we’ve all been there.  We shouldn’t be too quick to accuse others of hypocrisy.  People who fail to live up to their own standards aren’t usually hypocrites: they’re just human.

    So, actual hypocrisy involves a deliberate, conscious, sustained discrepancy.  If you create an alias and leave remarks online that you wouldn’t want anyone who knows you to find out about, that’s hypocrisy.

    As for hypocrisy within the Church, it’s nothing new.  There have been fakers all the way back to Ananias and Sapphira.  Of course, it’s disturbing when those people rise to positions of authority.  When this happens, they’re never in isolation.  A hypocrite can’t remain in power without supporters who collude to maintain the fiction.

    Hypocrisy is always expedient.  The anonymous cipher behind the false front has a goal.  Sometimes it’s the glaringly obvious goal of retaining a position of influence (“accomplishing all the good we do”).  Sometimes the real goal is so murky that only a brilliant psychoanalyst could uncover it.

    If you’re a sincere person, you may be more easily duped at first, because you assume that others are equally sincere.  They will play you.  But when you figure out what’s going on, you’re not obligated to stick around for more.  You’re free to move on in search of integrity.  In fact, there may come a time when you must move on, if remaining means playing their game.

    St B reminds us that the experience of other people’s dishonesty is not an excuse to behave badly ourselves.  Even if you have no power to change the system, you can choose to remain honest yourself.

    Children are natural prophets.  They will call you out on your discrepancies: listen to them.

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