Browsing tag: character

  • Character Of The Chef

    Temperate Definition

    There should be chosen from the community someone who is wise, mature in conduct, temperate…. If any brother happens to make an unreasonable demand of him, he should not reject him with disdain and cause him distress, but reasonably and humbly deny the improper request….knowing for certain that he will be held accountable for all of them on the day of judgment. (Rule of St. Benedict 31.1-9)

    The cellarer is the person in charge of the food. It may come as a surprise that St. Benedict required this person to possess such a long list of interior traits. We’re accustomed to discerning the qualities of the food, not the qualities of the chef.

    So, is the person in charge of the food really carrying out a moral task? Does this job matter to God?

    St. B decisively affirms that the tasks associated with food are intimately tied to principles of charity and hospitality. So, the person in charge of the food is nurturer and host. A community rests on these pillars.

    But such lofty qualities seem far removed from the experience of raising children. They are constantly making unreasonable demands as to what they want–or don’t want–to eat. If you always give in to their demands, you train them to be selfish. On the other hand, if you enforce rules angrily and impatiently, you drive them away from the family table. How does a human being get from the howling chaos of infancy to the temperate maturity of happy adulthood?

    If you want your children to develop good habits, you’ve got to work on your own habits. This means that you make wise choices about what you eat yourself. Think of yourself as the mature version of what your children will become. Do you need to correct your own behavior, for their sakes? Temperance is the virtue of refraining from excess. Too much food, but also too many restrictions are intemperate.

    So, Mom does not open a bottle of wine every afternoon just before the kids come home from school. Likewise, she does not eat excessively. She is not irritable or doctrinaire, not impatient or tyrannical. She is not lazy or wasteful, but views her stewardship of the food budget and meal planning as work done before God. In other words, she is a saint.

    In order even to want to aim for this standard, you must actually believe that there is a moral quality to the food habits of your household. It’s not that food has any moral value in itself. But food habits form the foundation early in life for all other forms of consumption.

    In short, the goal is for the children to internalize good principles so that they willingly make healthy choices and eventually become responsible adults. To get there, they have to learn to make temperate decisions. This is a project that takes years of effort and perseverance. If you can do this, you can do anything.

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  • Choose Your Destination

    Their law is what they like to do, whatever strikes their fancy.  Anything they believe in and choose, they call holy; anything they dislike, they consider forbidden (RB 1.8-9)

    So . . . if you’re thinking that this is a description of our culture today, actually it’s not.  This is Saint Benedict describing corrupt monks in the sixth century.  The mentality that surrounds us now was already an option then.  

    The monks that St. Benedict does approve of are the coenobitarum, which is Latin for koinos bios, which is Greek for common life, which is English for what I aim to discuss here. Life in community is the focus of St. Benedict’s Rule.  He invites us to choose community with our fellow human beings in this world, but it’s clear that the community depends on each individual’s commitment to follow Christ. St. Benedict’s Rule explicates the practical living out of “the communion of saints” of the Apostle’s Creed. This communion joins those on earth with those in heaven, but those on earth are the ones who need help trying to figure out how to live.

    There is another kind of monk that St. Benedict refers to: the eremitarum, which is the Latin transliteration of the Greek eremitēs, which means “one who lives in the desert” and gives us the English word hermit.  He himself lived as a hermit for three years.  He describes the hermit as ready with God’s help to grapple single-handed with the vices of body and mind (RB 1.5).

    When I first started to think of the housewife-mother as a domestic hermit, it was because of the sense of isolation I experienced.  I faced many struggles that didn’t seem to be addressed by the Church.  I don’t think my experience is unusual.  I think that many people flee the domestic life exactly because of the combination of exterior harassment and interior aridity that afflicts people whose vocation is neither respected by the world nor adequately addressed by religious authorities.

    My goal here is to provide some support for this double challenge of Christian families who are attempting both to sustain a personal spiritual vitality and also to create community within a materialistic, competitive culture.  I’m going to write from the perspective of someone who finds Christian goodness difficult and not always attractive.  If you don’t feel that you need help in this area, nothing I say will be of much interest.  But if you’re hanging on by your fingernails and thinking of letting go, I have a few tips for how to claw your way to survival.

    Jesus said, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life” John 14:6.  But his way of life is one among many options, in the post-Christian West, and not the one that the cool people choose.  Many nice people are rushing off along other paths, and they certainly don’t intend to destroy themselves.  But Jesus insists that only his path leads to life: Matthew 7:13-14. If you’ve watched as dreadful consequences play out around you, it’s already clear that not all paths are equally good. But it’s not necessarily obvious either how to live out the life that Christ talks about.

    If your desired destination is eternal community with those you love and with your Creator, then you’re in the company of St. Benedict.  What follows will be my interpretation of some of the principles he wrote about.

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  • Redemption

    Place your hope in God alone.  If you notice something good in yourself, give credit to God, not to yourself, but be certain that the evil you commit is always your own and yours to acknowledge. (Rule of St. Benedict 4. 41-43)

    Glaciers are receding, and at first the mountains they leave behind are as bare as the moon.  But up the stark cliffs the lichen first, then the wild sweet peas, then the alders grow.  Evergreen forests, moose and bear come to thrive on slopes relieved of eons of ice.  Grizzlies, bald eagles and salmon multiply, given a habitat and half a chance.  What about us, can we come back?

    It’s a spiritual ice age, these days.  Cool people tell us that we emerged randomly from nothing, will soon dissolve into nothing, and that no one cares anyway.  They say we’re helpless to control our own impulses; cannot alter our destructive habits; might as well yield to what’s killing us.  Give up and despair.  Do violence to yourself.  End it.

    But the Church holds onto the warmth of love and holds out for the thrill of life lived in harmony with our Creator.  The Christian hope is redemption.

    Redemption is a process, sometimes a slow one.  Glaciers and fingernails grow at about the same speed. So do souls.  But redemption is a transformation we willingly engage in.  We surrender the parts of ourselves that are mean or petty, that clash with the character of our Creator.  The God who formed the universe and who endows each tiny creature with its own particular beauty also called each one of us into being.  He wants to pull us back from the brink, but he gives us our freedom.  We participate willingly or not at all.

    First we must reconcile with the source of goodness, in order to develop goodness ourselves. Then we let our old identity die away even as a new identity forms within us. The new person gets up every day and struggles to do the right thing. It’s not a futile struggle. It’s the exertion of a caterpillar morphing into a butterfly. Every decision you make against evil, for good participates in your eternal formation. What you will be has not yet been revealed, but your new form will be glorious. Look around and observe glimpses of glory. God is always at work everywhere for good. Contemplate what he has already done.

    Right now you may feel slimy, constrained and exhausted. The effort is part of the process. You get stronger as you try. This is because you’re not just achieving an objective. You’re becoming someone. Morphing from one state of being to a new one, temporarily you have fewer powers, not more. The force of rage has dissipated, because you experience peace within. Your new movements may be awkward at first, but soon enough you’ll stretch wings and be flying. It’s a whole new experience of reality. No regrets for the dry husk left behind.

     

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  • Endure Persecution For The Sake Of Justice

    Endure persecution for the sake of justice (Matthew 5:10).  (RB 4. 33)

    Brace yourself.  To endure implies time, maybe a long time.  Persecution is not a one-off, an insult from a passing stranger, a violation of a specific right on a particular occasion.  Persecution involves systematic, sustained, deliberate attack, targeting you.  So we’re talking about a long ordeal with no end in sight.

    In such a time, when there’s nothing to see but darkness, we fix our eyes on our purpose, the thing we love more, the justice without which we’d have no reason to keep going even if things were easy.  This is justice in the large sense.  That is to say, righteousness.  Righteousness simply means doing the right thing.  If everyone did the right thing, justice would flourish everywhere.  There are many opportunities to exercise it, in any human life.  It’s the thing you do because it’s right, before you realize you’ll be punished for it.

    Perhaps you speak out honestly, and the person in authority doesn’t want to hear it.  Someone pulls you aside, talks down to you, and gives you to understand that you are not at the level of those who have interesting contributions to make.  You are at the level of those who shut up and listen.  Fall in line, and maybe you’ll get somewhere.

    So you try.  And you fail.  You have no knack for nonsense phrases.  You keep searching for a way to express the truth that will get someone to listen.  But there is none, not where you are.

    For example, when you walk through the door, no one sees you.  You greet them, but they don’t remember having met you.  They don’t seem to hear you when you speak.  You don’t exist for them, and nonexistence is a terrible strain.  It melts your whole sense of self.

    What’s wrong with you?  Why can’t you just get along?  What is it that prevents you from fitting in?

    It’s the element of righteousness within your character. The justice of God is embodied in you. It’s the stuff you’re made of.

    And so you pray, “Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven,” because now you realize there’s a difference. Tension between earth and heaven is heating up. Where on earth is God’s will being done?

    Within you.

    God is truth, and the Spirit of Truth cannot abide lies, nor dwell within the liar. So you feel sick and sicker at hollow words you can no longer repeat. You can’t collude with what repels you.

    But when the heat is on, and the blows are hammering, something within you glows to life. Most surprisingly, the thing that should break you actually strengthens you. Your whole substance responds and alters. You don’t recognize yourself anymore, and neither do the people who know you. Sparks fly. You lose friends.

    It should not be so painful to do right. Hold out for the way things should be. Something in you does not belong in this world. Glow brighter. The darkness is very dark, and what you don’t see is that the only light in the room is emanating from you.

    You take the plunge to escape, because that’s the only path forward. When the steam clears, you’re still in one piece, but you feel defeated. You do have a future ahead of you, but it’s not the one you had planned. Not only your shape but your elemental structure has changed. Impurities are gone. Alloys are added. There’s no going back to what you were before. Not now, not ever.

    The One who is forging your character knows what he means to make of you, and your story isn’t over yet. Some day the form of you will find its function. You may still have further refinements to undergo. God will make your suffering count for justice.

     

     

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  • Bear Injuries Patiently

     

    Bearing injuries patiently is not a sign of weakness.  It’s a sign of goodness.  Only the strong bear up.  Only the good restrain themselves when evil beckons, because evil is not their master.

    This isn’t about defending yourself in the moment of attack.  You have the right to self-defense.  This is about the aftermath: now what?

    Weak people fall apart and lash out at everyone around them as they disintegrate.  For a brief moment, they enjoy an experience of power: the power to destroy.  There’s something appealing about power, even when you know it’s fleeting, even when you know it’s hateful.  The Church calls this appeal the glamor of evil.  As Christians, we reject it, along with Satan and all his works.

    Strong people hold themselves together, hold onto what they know is good and hold out for what they know is right.  Sometimes they hang on by their fingernails.  As Christians, this is the character we aspire to, and God knows it’s hard.  Sometimes the path leads straight up the face of a cliff.

    You can be on the right path and still fall and get hurt.  Getting hurt doesn’t mean that God is against you.  It means that there’s an inherent risk to living at all.  You were thrust into existence without being consulted.  But now that you’re here, you’re free to venture your all for the good.  The promise of Christ is that ultimately your venture will pay off.  Death is not the end.

    People who have only this world to live for figure that nothing they do matters.  But the Christian message is that everything you do matters, even the tiny things.  Even a small creature can live in harmony with its Maker.  He is always at work everywhere for good, and he invites you to participate in that work, wherever you are, whoever you are.

    You’re free to reject his offer.  You can rage against your Creator.  He allowed evil into this world, and now you can increase the sum of evil.

    But know that if you choose for what is right and true and good, God is on your side, even when everything else in the universe seems to be against you.  And he promises that the pain will last only as long as this life.  You will emerge into peace for eternity.

    That leaves now, and everything we have to face in this moment in time.  Sometimes we can’t understand why God does what he does.  Why does he hurt us?  Why make us stay in our place in a corner with a cone around our necks?  We didn’t do anything wrong.  

    Heave a big sigh and wait: maybe something good will come along next.

    Don’t fret.  Don’t chew on your hurt and make it worse.  Save your energy for the good you can do.  If the path before you is clear, and if you have the strength, get up every day and keep going.  Be patient.  Bear up.  There’s no quick fix to any complex problem, and you will encounter many problems along the way.

    When you’ve done everything you can do, then stand firm and wait for God himself to act on your behalf.  If you can’t stand up anymore, sit down.  If even sitting is too much, lie still and be who you are where you are.  There’s a time to let people who love you take care of you.  You’re not alone in this.  Fix sad eyes on your Maker.  Remain alert to his call.

    An injury can happen in an instant.  The healing takes a long, long time.  It saps all the strength you’ve got.

    Healing is your job now.  We want you back.

     

    Do not repay one bad turn with another 1 Thessalonians 5:15; 1 Peter 3:9.  Do not injure anyone, but bear injuries patiently.  (Rule of St. Benedict 4. 29-30)

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  • Curb Your Urge

    For this reason Scripture warns us, Pursue not your lusts Sirach 18:30.  (Rule of St. Benedict 7.25)

    We live in a culture where it’s supposed to be fun to let yourself go.  People announce that they’re about to let themselves go, and then they do it.  Not only do they not feel shame: they expect you to pat them on the back.  Most of the time they act with good humor, and with no thought of harming themselves or anyone else.  The binge is benign these days.

    Until it’s not.  The fact is that we have countless people who are suffering the tragic consequences of their own impulses–or worse, of someone else’s.  Some of them refuse to admit responsibility.  But others are discouraged, because they’ve tried and failed to change.

    Self-control is not an instant thing.  It’s the work of a lifetime.  It’s the practice of a life well-lived.

    If you want to be an athlete or an artist or any sort of skilled worker, you start at the beginning and practice basic moves first.  Checking your own impulse is one of the most basic moves of all.  It’s an element of any future action.  It’s not just that refraining from one action frees up time and energy for an alternative.  Curbing your impulse also builds strength and skill.  These in turn open up new possibilities that would otherwise have remained out of reach.

    A century of Freudian psychology has led us to assume that checking an impulse means repressing desire.  When you repress a desire, you don’t act on it, but it comes out in some other, weird way that you don’t control and that you may not even be aware of.  So you might as well let yourself go.

    Suffering the consequences?  That’s someone else’s specialty.  Next, please.

    The difference between self-control and repression is that self-control does not suppress desire.  Self-control nurtures and trains desire.  While the binge lets desire loose, without regard for other people, self-control keeps desire on a leash and exercises it with consideration for others.

    The lure of the binge is easy pleasure fast.  But the thrill tends to decrease with repetition.  You work harder to get less.  And you suffer the side effects.  With self-control, on the other hand, you start small, but the enjoyment increases with practice.  And the horizons are infinite.

    The best the binge can claim is not to have harmed anyone else.  But self-control allows you to do good to others actively.

    People who can’t control their impulses only get along with others who want to do the same thing at the same time in the same way.  When a whole collection of individuals are all out of control together, they meld into a mob.  The mob tramples any divergent individual.  But then the frenzy burns out, and the mob disperses.  The same individuals go back to competing ruthlessly against each other.  They separate, each alone with an ungoverned desire.  The endpoint is a life without any relationships at all: just interactions that serve the appetite.

    But self-control allows you to live in community.  Christian community aims not to meld but to harmonize individual desires.  It’s a complex challenge, but by the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, we do make a life together.  This calls for active participation on the part of each one, rather than a passive letting go.

    Life in a family is a training ground for harmony.  Baby learns to sleep at night long enough for Mom to get the rest she needs.  Baby learns to go for longer without eating, so that eventually the child’s habits match the habits of the family.  In practice this effort takes years, and every time a new baby arrives, another individual process is thrown into the mix.  Easy is not part of the deal.

    But the endpoint is paradise, which Jesus describes as a banquet Matthew 22:1-14; 25:1-13.  A banquet is a fancy dinner where people dress their best, eat together and enjoy each other’s company.  When you have a family sitting down to a meal together, you have a foretaste of heaven.  The food may be simple.  The clamor around your table may not sound divine.  But consider what you’ve achieved: you’ve taken human beings from a state of chaos to a state of sociability.  Even if it’s not yet heaven, it is the foundation of civil society, and that’s something no one should take for granted.

    Ultimately: heaven.  Here and now: a functioning society.  Earliest of all: a family meal.  But it all begins with harmonizing individual impulses.  And so, each one of us must achieve a measure of self-control.

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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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  • King Once And King To Be

    It is love that impels them to pursue everlasting life; therefore, they are eager to take the narrow road of which the Lord says: Narrow is the road that leads to life Matthew 7:14. (Rule of St. Benedict 5.10-11)

    When my son was not yet six years old, he asked me at Christmas: “How can God be both everywhere AND a baby in a manger?”

    I said, “Yes, and he’s also a Spirit who is present to each of us at every moment.”

    He said, “That’s CRAZY.”

    So I said, “One day you’ll learn that the really dangerous crazy people make perfect sense.  Everything fits together neatly for them.”

    Fortunately, at that point he dashed off to something else, so I didn’t have to explain that the baby is an exiled king who will one day return, and we’ve given him our allegiance, which involves us in all sorts of struggles while we wait for him to reclaim his inheritance.

    Or maybe that’s not theologically correct.  Maybe he is already King of everything.  It’s just that his enemy usurps his territory and seduces the allegiance of his citizens—usually the easy way, with inducements.  For those who don’t respond to inducements, there are threats.  For those who disregard threats, there are punishments.  Some of these are worse than being condescended to at cocktail parties.

    Sell out?

    In other words, there’s a romantic loyalty in the Christian call.  Something about love.

    The Christian does not obey a set of laws, a system of ideas, an abstract principle or an impersonal force.  The Christian has committed to obey a person.  That person is Christ.  So, Christian faith is not an exercise of the imagination.  Nor is faith an intellectual assent to a set of propositions.  Still less is it membership in a club.  You do have both an imagination and an intellect, and you are free to join clubs, but faith is something else.  Faith in God is trust in a person.

    It’s exactly at the point of obedience that you start to wonder if you really believe in this guy.  Why should you put yourself out for someone you neither know nor trust?

    You shouldn’t.  If it strikes you that God asks far too much, proceed with caution.  Take a step in the direction of what he seems to want, and see what comes of it.  And begin to claim his promises for yourself.  It’s only as you begin to experience God making good on his word that you’ll begin to feel confident in him.  If you never expect anything of him, you’ll never know him.

    Also realize that if you are yourself untrustworthy, you will never know God.  “Faithless” means treacherous, fickle, false.  This sort of person is incompatible with God.  If you want to experience a relationship with God, be faithful in your dealings with other human beings.

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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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