Their faces are registering complete shock.
Personally, I'm a little taken aback that what I said is so surprising to them.
"How can homework make us holy?"
"Do you want to do homework?"
"Yes....er, no," my student responds, wavering, it seems, between what he feels he should say and what is actually the truth. "No, I don't."
"So doing your homework would mean you are going against your own will and desire to do what you should do."
"So we are supposed to stab ourselves in the arm?!"
"Doing your homework is a bit different than stabbing yourself in the arm. I'm not saying you need to intentionally inflict pain upon yourself so that you suffer. Simply accept the suffering that comes your way and offer it to God. Choosing to do your homework when you don't want to means saying no to your own will and yes to God's will. Right now you are to be a student. God isn't requiring that everyone gets a 4.0 GPA, but He does want you to do the very best that you can."
How often we fail to see the ordinary, inconvenient, monotonous tasks of the day as paths to sanctity! We want something extraordinary. Lord, give us some big task, some grandiose mission and we will fulfill it for You! Instead, we are given long lines at the grocery store, disobedient children, laundry, and snow shoveling. They don't seem quick paths to holiness, but the Lord only entrusts big missions to those who are faithful in small matters.
If the cross my students carry is homework, my cross is found in grading their homework and tests. It is easy to push it aside, to think I have far better things to do. Yet, in a way that I don't fully understand, my holiness can be brought about in grading the 63rd paper about the Shroud of Turin or test over the arguments for God's existence. Somewhere in the monotony of that work, I can utter with my actions, "Not my will, but Thy will be done."
So homework, study guide writing, end of the year planning, and room cleaning here I come. And somewhere in the midst, may sanctity be found.
Showing posts with label sacrifice. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sacrifice. Show all posts
Saturday, December 5, 2015
Tuesday, October 6, 2015
Running for Them
This might be premature, but I find it interesting that what has motivated me to take up running is teaching. More specifically, my students. "Take up running" means I've gone for four runs in the past week. It could all fall apart very soon (definitely has happened before), but I think this might be here to stay for the time being.
A couple weeks ago I came to a realization: I don't sacrifice for my students. They come up in my prayers and I hope the best for them. However, I don't often find myself tangibly offering things up for them, other than allowing them to keep living after a particularly trying class period.
I've realized this lack of sacrifice before. This time I was compelled to do something about it. Running is something good for me and good for them. I find myself thinking about them as I run and offering up my labored breaths for them.
Yet the more I run (think: slow jog), the more reasons I find to keep doing it. I've run twice through my neighborhood and while I don't like it as much, I think I might keep it up because it gives a new perspective and new prayer intentions. I run past a home and I hear the muffled sound of a man and woman arguing. Or I run around a bend and see two kids in front of a house, a larger pre-teen girl slapping the head of a smaller pre-teen boy. The girl looks belligerent and the boy has his defenses up but is angry. She glances at me and there are no more blows while I run by the house.
I find myself praying for peace as I meander the streets of my neighborhood. This little heart inexplicably finds itself aching for situations I will never know about, fights I will never see, hurtful words I will never hear, but that are happening in these places so near to me. I prayed for peace to flow through these houses. For homes to be places of peace, not places where we take up arms against our flesh and blood. For parents to show their children how to love. For people to experience the love and peace of Christ that I have experienced.
It is not that much, and I should in all rights probably be doing far more. But for now, I am running for my students. For their addictions, depression, relationships, struggles, and hearts. When I nearly convince myself to not go for a planned run, I remember them and realize I'm not doing it for me, but for them. And it makes me run.
A couple weeks ago I came to a realization: I don't sacrifice for my students. They come up in my prayers and I hope the best for them. However, I don't often find myself tangibly offering things up for them, other than allowing them to keep living after a particularly trying class period.
I've realized this lack of sacrifice before. This time I was compelled to do something about it. Running is something good for me and good for them. I find myself thinking about them as I run and offering up my labored breaths for them.
Yet the more I run (think: slow jog), the more reasons I find to keep doing it. I've run twice through my neighborhood and while I don't like it as much, I think I might keep it up because it gives a new perspective and new prayer intentions. I run past a home and I hear the muffled sound of a man and woman arguing. Or I run around a bend and see two kids in front of a house, a larger pre-teen girl slapping the head of a smaller pre-teen boy. The girl looks belligerent and the boy has his defenses up but is angry. She glances at me and there are no more blows while I run by the house.
I find myself praying for peace as I meander the streets of my neighborhood. This little heart inexplicably finds itself aching for situations I will never know about, fights I will never see, hurtful words I will never hear, but that are happening in these places so near to me. I prayed for peace to flow through these houses. For homes to be places of peace, not places where we take up arms against our flesh and blood. For parents to show their children how to love. For people to experience the love and peace of Christ that I have experienced.
It is not that much, and I should in all rights probably be doing far more. But for now, I am running for my students. For their addictions, depression, relationships, struggles, and hearts. When I nearly convince myself to not go for a planned run, I remember them and realize I'm not doing it for me, but for them. And it makes me run.
Tuesday, September 10, 2013
Witnessing to Lived Faith
They were nearly in the palm of my hands. Not all of them (that would be a miracle) but many of them. For what seemed like the first time in the entire semester, this class seemed interested in what I had to say. Gone were the faces etched with boredom. They were replaced with genuine eye contact and interest. I hadn't intended to launch into the discussion for an earlier class, but I had and it had gone well. Now I was facing a more difficult to please class and the transition I used before wasn't clear. I considered not even broaching the subject with them, but just continuing on with the class and ending early.
When I finally began to speak on it, it went better than expected. I remember thinking at one time, "Lord, this is going great. They are listening and the story is flowing well." This was the best they had listened all year. I was thrilled.
It struck me later as very interesting that what they listened to the best was what was most personal to me. I've been talking to them about faith and reason for the past few days. This particular class day I had reviewed the introduction to Lumen Fidei and we had explored what faith is and what faith isn't according to the encyclical. I love theology. But to them it is just another book, at times, that must be read and regurgitated.
I began to tell them that having faith doesn't mean that it will all be easy. Yet regardless of the trials, faith is worth it and God desires to be in relationship with us. Then I told them more in depth about my older sisters who are religious sisters. I didn't try to white wash any difficulties or try to evoke pity in them. Rather, I told them about how it was difficult for me to watch my sisters choose to leave me because they were following God. My intention wasn't to highlight any strictness of the orders. I wanted them to see that I understand sacrifice, being angry with God, and feeling like what is being asked of me is just too much.
This second class seemed to grasp it most fully. A couple seemed near to tears but just about everyone was alert and listening. I think it helped them realize my humanity. Do I love the Lord? Yes! But even with this love and this desire to love, I still find myself balking at the sacrifices that are to be made. While I often paint this as a past sacrifice, it is still an ongoing sacrifice. I do not always think of the sacrifices but there are moments when the emotions are sharpened, the scab reopened, and the ache felt again.
Perhaps today they forgot everything that I said yesterday. What I hope remains somewhere within them is the knowledge that life will be filled with sacrifices. Will I choose to make them with Christ or without Him? A life of Christian sacrifice is not easy. Yet I do not think a life running from Him would be easy, either. Life will arrive and demand things and people of us that we are not prepared to surrender. Faith is knowing that Someone else cries with you and that Someone desires you infinitely more than you desired your lost love.
That is what makes life bearable.
When I finally began to speak on it, it went better than expected. I remember thinking at one time, "Lord, this is going great. They are listening and the story is flowing well." This was the best they had listened all year. I was thrilled.
It struck me later as very interesting that what they listened to the best was what was most personal to me. I've been talking to them about faith and reason for the past few days. This particular class day I had reviewed the introduction to Lumen Fidei and we had explored what faith is and what faith isn't according to the encyclical. I love theology. But to them it is just another book, at times, that must be read and regurgitated.
I began to tell them that having faith doesn't mean that it will all be easy. Yet regardless of the trials, faith is worth it and God desires to be in relationship with us. Then I told them more in depth about my older sisters who are religious sisters. I didn't try to white wash any difficulties or try to evoke pity in them. Rather, I told them about how it was difficult for me to watch my sisters choose to leave me because they were following God. My intention wasn't to highlight any strictness of the orders. I wanted them to see that I understand sacrifice, being angry with God, and feeling like what is being asked of me is just too much.
This second class seemed to grasp it most fully. A couple seemed near to tears but just about everyone was alert and listening. I think it helped them realize my humanity. Do I love the Lord? Yes! But even with this love and this desire to love, I still find myself balking at the sacrifices that are to be made. While I often paint this as a past sacrifice, it is still an ongoing sacrifice. I do not always think of the sacrifices but there are moments when the emotions are sharpened, the scab reopened, and the ache felt again.
Perhaps today they forgot everything that I said yesterday. What I hope remains somewhere within them is the knowledge that life will be filled with sacrifices. Will I choose to make them with Christ or without Him? A life of Christian sacrifice is not easy. Yet I do not think a life running from Him would be easy, either. Life will arrive and demand things and people of us that we are not prepared to surrender. Faith is knowing that Someone else cries with you and that Someone desires you infinitely more than you desired your lost love.
That is what makes life bearable.
Sunday, April 7, 2013
Movie Love
"I think I'm falling in love with you."
That line from a movie should be captivating and romantic but at that specific point in the movie I found it utterly---belated and ridiculous. So far the movie had been mindless albeit slightly different from other chick flicks that I've seen, but it came to a necessary aspect in nearly every modern romantic movie. Boy and girl become very passionate and end up in bed together with no ring on their fingers to make this a marital embrace but rather an over-glorified way to use the other person. In this particular movie, the guy and girl are in bed and as she is going to tell him something, he looks her in the eyes and huskily admits, "I think I'm falling in love with you."
My response? A few short disbelieving laughs and an overwhelming sense of sadness. You think that you are falling in love with her? Aren't those words (or perhaps simply "I love you") supposed to come before you say those words with the language of the body? I think the effect is supposed to elicit a response of "Awwww!" But instead it makes me realize how far we have fallen. The pinnacle of expressing one's love for the other person is not found in virtuously denying oneself for the good of the other but rather in letting passion consumed oneself.
The romantic movies that are produced by the mainstream media always leave me less than fulfilled. The man could be strikingly handsome and the girl witty and smart yet as soon as they fall into the cliché that love = sex, I find myself saddened inside. If this is what the media is hailing as natural and love, then I shouldn't be surprised at the decay of the culture. The dignity of the human person is not upheld as it should be. When I see a romantic movie it would be nice if I didn't have to say, "That was good. Except for...." Or to think that it would be exactly the love story I would want if only they had shown virtue and a desire for the good of the other person. Instead I typically leave with this odd feeling that is half wistful and half disgusted.
I am a romantic by nature--perhaps not discoverable exteriorly but definitely found within my heart. I want a wonderful love story and a love that is unending. Yet I do not find myself agreeing with the only romance Hollywood knows how to offer. Rather I begin to feel that I must be one of a small contingent that has a radically different view of love. A purer, deeper, truer but far less exalted type of love. The modern day romantic "fairy tale" ending is ridiculously trite. In fact, it would be far more innovative for Hollywood to begin to use the oft-forgotten tale of the man and woman who show their radical love for one another within the embrace of Holy Matrimony.
This weekend I found a song with which I have fallen in love. Her voice is beautiful and the lyrics are true. It leaves me with a desire to be married yet with none of the bad aftertaste found in the typical mainstream music and society. Relish this piece of true beauty!
While writing this I also thought of how if we want to transform the media and the culture, we must be willing to support places that are striving to do just that. I want to see a change in what is being offered in the culture but if I do not support them, how are they to succeed? So just when I needed it, I received an invitation to support a movie that speaks of the dignity of the human person. I accepted the invitation and I would like to extend it to you. While it isn't speaking of the human sexuality of the person being trampled upon, it nevertheless is speaking about the inherent dignity of each individual regardless of the context of the situation. Please support them in prayer and money and pass it along to your friends and family. If we want to see this culture change, it will be through a group effort. And it will require sacrifice.
http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/450183161/frohe-ostern-movie?ref=live
P.S. God is ridiculously and madly in love with you. He is pouring His mercy out upon you but He needs you to accept this mercy and glory in it. This unfathomable love doesn't really make sense--but that is probably why it is called "Divine Mercy." No mere human person is capable of that kind of love and mercy. But glory to God we have a God who not only provides for the weak and the lowly (i.e. you and me) but loves to do that.
For the sake of His sorrowful passion, have mercy on us and on the whole world.
That line from a movie should be captivating and romantic but at that specific point in the movie I found it utterly---belated and ridiculous. So far the movie had been mindless albeit slightly different from other chick flicks that I've seen, but it came to a necessary aspect in nearly every modern romantic movie. Boy and girl become very passionate and end up in bed together with no ring on their fingers to make this a marital embrace but rather an over-glorified way to use the other person. In this particular movie, the guy and girl are in bed and as she is going to tell him something, he looks her in the eyes and huskily admits, "I think I'm falling in love with you."
My response? A few short disbelieving laughs and an overwhelming sense of sadness. You think that you are falling in love with her? Aren't those words (or perhaps simply "I love you") supposed to come before you say those words with the language of the body? I think the effect is supposed to elicit a response of "Awwww!" But instead it makes me realize how far we have fallen. The pinnacle of expressing one's love for the other person is not found in virtuously denying oneself for the good of the other but rather in letting passion consumed oneself.
The romantic movies that are produced by the mainstream media always leave me less than fulfilled. The man could be strikingly handsome and the girl witty and smart yet as soon as they fall into the cliché that love = sex, I find myself saddened inside. If this is what the media is hailing as natural and love, then I shouldn't be surprised at the decay of the culture. The dignity of the human person is not upheld as it should be. When I see a romantic movie it would be nice if I didn't have to say, "That was good. Except for...." Or to think that it would be exactly the love story I would want if only they had shown virtue and a desire for the good of the other person. Instead I typically leave with this odd feeling that is half wistful and half disgusted.
I am a romantic by nature--perhaps not discoverable exteriorly but definitely found within my heart. I want a wonderful love story and a love that is unending. Yet I do not find myself agreeing with the only romance Hollywood knows how to offer. Rather I begin to feel that I must be one of a small contingent that has a radically different view of love. A purer, deeper, truer but far less exalted type of love. The modern day romantic "fairy tale" ending is ridiculously trite. In fact, it would be far more innovative for Hollywood to begin to use the oft-forgotten tale of the man and woman who show their radical love for one another within the embrace of Holy Matrimony.
This weekend I found a song with which I have fallen in love. Her voice is beautiful and the lyrics are true. It leaves me with a desire to be married yet with none of the bad aftertaste found in the typical mainstream music and society. Relish this piece of true beauty!
While writing this I also thought of how if we want to transform the media and the culture, we must be willing to support places that are striving to do just that. I want to see a change in what is being offered in the culture but if I do not support them, how are they to succeed? So just when I needed it, I received an invitation to support a movie that speaks of the dignity of the human person. I accepted the invitation and I would like to extend it to you. While it isn't speaking of the human sexuality of the person being trampled upon, it nevertheless is speaking about the inherent dignity of each individual regardless of the context of the situation. Please support them in prayer and money and pass it along to your friends and family. If we want to see this culture change, it will be through a group effort. And it will require sacrifice.
http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/450183161/frohe-ostern-movie?ref=live
P.S. God is ridiculously and madly in love with you. He is pouring His mercy out upon you but He needs you to accept this mercy and glory in it. This unfathomable love doesn't really make sense--but that is probably why it is called "Divine Mercy." No mere human person is capable of that kind of love and mercy. But glory to God we have a God who not only provides for the weak and the lowly (i.e. you and me) but loves to do that.
For the sake of His sorrowful passion, have mercy on us and on the whole world.
Thursday, March 21, 2013
Divine Revelation
Jesus loves the poor. Today in class we read the story of Lazarus and the rich man from the Gospel of Luke. The rich man neglected the needs of Lazarus and his punishment was hell while Lazarus was in the bosom of Abraham. As happens fairly often, I find myself teaching my students, trying to drive home a point that I am simultaneously realizing I do not live by.
"Jesus is saying in no uncertain terms that helping the poor is necessary."
The interior dialogue is one that my students cannot see and one that I wish was different.
"Trish, what have you done to help the poor?" Apart from a few isolated instances, I am loathe to say that I have done very little. I am quick to reassure myself that I am not that rich man, I would never be so calloused. But perhaps I am, in many ways. I am quick to reassure myself that some are called to embrace radical poverty. However, some are not, I remind myself. I think of unused clothes in my closet and then I think of those who go without many clothes at all. I think of the slight pain I feel on a day of voluntary fasting and then I remember the involuntary starvation of people around the globe.
I'm not going to lie, at times Pope Francis makes me uncomfortable. He is crashing into my world, he is kissing the feet of inmates, he is embracing the disabled, and it is disconcerting. Not because I dislike the imprisoned or the disabled. Rather it is because I find myself falling short of the Gospel message in many ways and I don't like that truth.
The Gospel is radical. Some of my students are under the impression that everyone has heard the Gospel and that it isn't something that is difficult. Yet there must be a reason that people grew angry with Christ and persecuted Him. They didn't drive Him to the brow of the cliff because He told them that their lifestyle was perfectly acceptable. He challenged them. Today He still challenges us. The Bible is both a book of comfort and a book of seemingly impossible challenges. I am to be meek, humble, loving, sacrificial, trusting, repentant, merciful, poor in spirit, and so much more. I will be hated by all for the sake of His name and will be handed over to be killed. I will be given the words to speak at the proper moment and I will not defend myself against the accusations of others.
We are so quick to make the Bible a good story that Christianity is based around without realizing the radical implications for our own lives. In order to fully embrace Sacred Scripture I will need to accept the gift of transformative grace. I will not live on bread alone but on every word that comes forth from the mouth of God. The Gospel is challenging and if what is being preached about the Word of God is not challenging us and calling us to change, then it is not the Gospel! If I read the Bible as it is meant to be read then I cannot be content to be complacent. I can never say that I have done all that I need. The message of the Gospel calls for continual conversion.
The story of the prodigal son fit in perfectly with the recent words of Pope Francis. I was telling my students about the beauty of the mercy of God as He is depicted in the father in the story of the prodigal son. The father doesn't wait for the son to even reach home but races out to meet him. And he doesn't wait to hear the son's plea to simply be a servant but he gives him the best of everything out of gladness that his son is home. "The Lord never tires of forgiving, never! It is we who tire of asking his forgiveness." All of Heaven rejoices when one repentant sinner returns home. Even as I am explaining this to my students, I am realizing in a deeper way the truth of this. God doesn't forgive us begrudgingly. He doesn't sigh when we approach the confessional, slightly irked that we have done again what we just promised we would strive to never do again. He isn't like me. He doesn't wonder how I could be so dense, how I could be so self-centered. Rather, He races to me with open arms and rejoices in my repenting. What a God! He calls us to be what He created us to be and yet when we fail, He calls us to return to Him and begin again.
I do not sacrifice enough for the poor. I do not love my students as I ought. I seek after acceptance and affirmation more than holiness. I fall into being judgmental when it isn't my place. Yet God is calling me to overcome these failings with His grace and begin again. The Word of God is living and effective. It is cutting to the heart of the matter and revealing the truth of who we are and who God is. It is uncomfortable and disconcerting. But it is compelling and captivating. It rebukes, consoles, reassures, revitalizes, convicts, elevates, and embraces.
I hope my students are learning at least half as much as I am.
"Ignorance of Scripture is ignorance of Christ." --St. Jerome
"Jesus is saying in no uncertain terms that helping the poor is necessary."
The interior dialogue is one that my students cannot see and one that I wish was different.
"Trish, what have you done to help the poor?" Apart from a few isolated instances, I am loathe to say that I have done very little. I am quick to reassure myself that I am not that rich man, I would never be so calloused. But perhaps I am, in many ways. I am quick to reassure myself that some are called to embrace radical poverty. However, some are not, I remind myself. I think of unused clothes in my closet and then I think of those who go without many clothes at all. I think of the slight pain I feel on a day of voluntary fasting and then I remember the involuntary starvation of people around the globe.
I'm not going to lie, at times Pope Francis makes me uncomfortable. He is crashing into my world, he is kissing the feet of inmates, he is embracing the disabled, and it is disconcerting. Not because I dislike the imprisoned or the disabled. Rather it is because I find myself falling short of the Gospel message in many ways and I don't like that truth.
The Gospel is radical. Some of my students are under the impression that everyone has heard the Gospel and that it isn't something that is difficult. Yet there must be a reason that people grew angry with Christ and persecuted Him. They didn't drive Him to the brow of the cliff because He told them that their lifestyle was perfectly acceptable. He challenged them. Today He still challenges us. The Bible is both a book of comfort and a book of seemingly impossible challenges. I am to be meek, humble, loving, sacrificial, trusting, repentant, merciful, poor in spirit, and so much more. I will be hated by all for the sake of His name and will be handed over to be killed. I will be given the words to speak at the proper moment and I will not defend myself against the accusations of others.
We are so quick to make the Bible a good story that Christianity is based around without realizing the radical implications for our own lives. In order to fully embrace Sacred Scripture I will need to accept the gift of transformative grace. I will not live on bread alone but on every word that comes forth from the mouth of God. The Gospel is challenging and if what is being preached about the Word of God is not challenging us and calling us to change, then it is not the Gospel! If I read the Bible as it is meant to be read then I cannot be content to be complacent. I can never say that I have done all that I need. The message of the Gospel calls for continual conversion.
The story of the prodigal son fit in perfectly with the recent words of Pope Francis. I was telling my students about the beauty of the mercy of God as He is depicted in the father in the story of the prodigal son. The father doesn't wait for the son to even reach home but races out to meet him. And he doesn't wait to hear the son's plea to simply be a servant but he gives him the best of everything out of gladness that his son is home. "The Lord never tires of forgiving, never! It is we who tire of asking his forgiveness." All of Heaven rejoices when one repentant sinner returns home. Even as I am explaining this to my students, I am realizing in a deeper way the truth of this. God doesn't forgive us begrudgingly. He doesn't sigh when we approach the confessional, slightly irked that we have done again what we just promised we would strive to never do again. He isn't like me. He doesn't wonder how I could be so dense, how I could be so self-centered. Rather, He races to me with open arms and rejoices in my repenting. What a God! He calls us to be what He created us to be and yet when we fail, He calls us to return to Him and begin again.
I do not sacrifice enough for the poor. I do not love my students as I ought. I seek after acceptance and affirmation more than holiness. I fall into being judgmental when it isn't my place. Yet God is calling me to overcome these failings with His grace and begin again. The Word of God is living and effective. It is cutting to the heart of the matter and revealing the truth of who we are and who God is. It is uncomfortable and disconcerting. But it is compelling and captivating. It rebukes, consoles, reassures, revitalizes, convicts, elevates, and embraces.
I hope my students are learning at least half as much as I am.
"Ignorance of Scripture is ignorance of Christ." --St. Jerome
Friday, January 4, 2013
The Quest: To Be a Saint
A new year, some new classes, and nearly 80 new students. Some interesting things have already transpired, some for which I suppose I asked. I thought it would be neat if my students took a temperament test and then I could review the results and try to discover some of their characteristics quickly. So in class I gave them the web address that I wanted them to go to take the test and it just happened to be one for Catholic Match. I didn't fully understand what I was setting myself up for until I was preparing to write the address on the board. When I did, the response was typical--some chuckling, a few muffled remarks, and the overall questioning air that seemed to compel me to confess or deny their silent accusation. I did neither, for the most part. Perhaps the next embarrassing thing was telling them that they couldn't do this assignment at school either, because the school had blocked the address. At times I forget about the person of the high schooler and fail to remember that many trivial things can be made ridiculous when presented to a group of teenagers. Another interesting thing occurred when I reviewed the syllabus and mentioned the school policy on cell phones. In order to make it absolutely clear to them, I added a line that said that failure to comply with the rules would result in harsher penalties. My seniors primarily glazed over that but my sophomore classes picked up on it and some wanted to know what the penalty was. I hedged and simply told them that they didn't really want to find out.
As I was speaking to my seniors today I tried to present the idea of sanctity to them. I called them to become saints and to not wait for later or to assume that knowing the answers is sufficient. As I spoke to them I realized how much of this I need to remember. I cannot simply spend my day talking about Jesus, I must talk to Him. The more I interact with my students, the more I realize how much further I have to grow in sanctity. The thought came to me today that God is using this job as a way to draw me closer to Himself, that all of the challenges and problems are His way of perfecting me. There is a lot of perfecting that needs to take place. Today I considered my deficiency in love. I want to love only those who like me. Praying outside the abortion clinic in college was my initial experience of forcing myself to love in the face of intense adversity. However, school is different. It is much more of a marathon. It isn't exhilarating or enlightening to love my students in the midst of their utter humanity. It doesn't seem heroic, it doesn't fill me with warm feelings, and I don't have someone to talk to about how much I feel like I grew in the process. Instead, it is just hard. I don't want to do it and I can feel myself rebel. Loving to the point of pain. That is my calling and yet I fail to do it so often. I was serious when I told them that I would help sanctify them and they will help sanctify me. Then I realize that if I truly desired to be a saint above all other desires, if my holiness was what I was concerned about more than my physical or mental health, how much more I would do to further that goal. It is often surprising how lukewarm we can be while mistakenly thinking we are so zealous and hard-core. How good it is that we have a God who knows the trappings of human nature because He took them on Himself. But our desire to please Him and live for Him does please Him. And if we are serious, we will accept the grace He offers to live out His will.
As I was speaking to my seniors today I tried to present the idea of sanctity to them. I called them to become saints and to not wait for later or to assume that knowing the answers is sufficient. As I spoke to them I realized how much of this I need to remember. I cannot simply spend my day talking about Jesus, I must talk to Him. The more I interact with my students, the more I realize how much further I have to grow in sanctity. The thought came to me today that God is using this job as a way to draw me closer to Himself, that all of the challenges and problems are His way of perfecting me. There is a lot of perfecting that needs to take place. Today I considered my deficiency in love. I want to love only those who like me. Praying outside the abortion clinic in college was my initial experience of forcing myself to love in the face of intense adversity. However, school is different. It is much more of a marathon. It isn't exhilarating or enlightening to love my students in the midst of their utter humanity. It doesn't seem heroic, it doesn't fill me with warm feelings, and I don't have someone to talk to about how much I feel like I grew in the process. Instead, it is just hard. I don't want to do it and I can feel myself rebel. Loving to the point of pain. That is my calling and yet I fail to do it so often. I was serious when I told them that I would help sanctify them and they will help sanctify me. Then I realize that if I truly desired to be a saint above all other desires, if my holiness was what I was concerned about more than my physical or mental health, how much more I would do to further that goal. It is often surprising how lukewarm we can be while mistakenly thinking we are so zealous and hard-core. How good it is that we have a God who knows the trappings of human nature because He took them on Himself. But our desire to please Him and live for Him does please Him. And if we are serious, we will accept the grace He offers to live out His will.
MY LORD GOD, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road, though I may know nothing about it. Therefore I will trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.
--Thomas Merton
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
Sacrificial Love
The headlines and news broadcasts are filled with images of the families and friends of those affected in Newtown, CT. This is one of those instances when the media and technology is both a grace and a curse. How wonderful to know that people around the nation and world are joining together in prayer for a community most people have never been to or even heard about prior to this past Friday. Yet the images and constant replaying of the stories leads one to wonder if this is all done truly out of compassion or perhaps out of a desire to have a big news story and our insatiable desire for excitement. When is a breaking news story shared because of a desire to enlighten others and when is it the desire to be the first to hit the airwaves with the shocking news? I wonder at times if we aren't simply living from one drama to the next.
I saw this not to downplay or dismiss the losses felt by those in Newtown, but simply to re-evaluate our constant desire to know more about it. I, too, have watched news fragments on the Internet and desired to weep over what was being shown. There is something about the death of the innocent that evokes strong feelings within each person. It is a greater sense of injustice, a greater wrong has been perpetrated. The grief we feel would be of a different caliber had the victims all been adults. But when we see the ages of 6 and 7, we rightly feel that justice was not done. Every time something like this happens, I internally link it back to abortion. Not because I want to diminish the tragedy and say, "Something bad happens every day, get over it." Far from it. I desire to simply say, "Yes, this is a tragedy. But there is another tragedy that doesn't get the news coverage, that doesn't get the recognition it deserves because it is considered to be a 'hot button' issue and that people have conflicting feelings about it. Or because it is a choice. That is a tragedy that we should all be weeping over." The death of the innocent does evoke a heartache in us that speaks to our very desire to defend that which is weak and vulnerable. Rightfully so. But let us not forget the accepted deaths that occur daily. Let not familiarity breed apathy. We hear about abortion and so we are accustomed to the horrors of it. Yes, it is bad, but could it truly ever be stopped? I don't think that is the important issue, really. Each parent would greatly desire one more of those children to be spared, even if the child was not their own. As such, I desire for each child that is being carried into the abortion clinic to be spared, to be carried out once again, living in the womb of his mother.
As a teacher, I find it especially touching to hear the stories of the teachers who sacrificed their lives or put themselves in harms way for the sake of their students. It makes me wonder if I would have the same resolve. My students had asked me about the morality of a very hypothetical situation over a month ago. I had been telling them that it was wrong for the biblical Saul to commit suicide and that while we can never judge the fate of one who committed suicide, that the act is always intrinsically wrong. Being sophomores, they wanted to find a circumstance in which it would be acceptable. Who better to put on the stake then their teacher? So the situation went as follows: say a person came in with a gun and said that either I killed myself or he would kill all of my students. They looked at me, thinking that they had stumped me.
"Which one would you pick? Would you sacrifice yourself for us or would you just watch us all be killed?"
They thought I had to choose one of their options. I was firmly convinced that there were other ways that they had not thought of. So I presented my "game plan" to them, should this event ever actually take place in real life. I said that I would throw myself at the man--knowing that I would die--but that when I did that, all of the men in the classroom were to jump up and charge him also. They seemed a little surprised by my response, and while I wasn't, I was left wondering if this was really a matter to be discussed with my students. A while after I heard about the Newtown murders, I re-thought what I had told them and decided that I wouldn't really alter anything I had said. The vastly hypothetical situation seemed a little less out there and closer to home. I thought about how I would be shaking and terrified, but I prayed that God would give me the necessary strength, should something like this actually happen.
Perhaps this is inappropriate to put in a post that also speaks about Newtown, but I don't think it is. I often refer to my students as "my kids" even though I know they aren't really kids, but they do feel in a way like they are mine. They may never know the affection I harbor for them, even the ones that also drive me up the wall. For the most part, I can never tell them I love them, because they would never take it as seriously or as deeply as I mean it. They are each too deep to know in such a short amount of time, yet I feel like I know quite a bit about them, simply from their behavior and class work.
From the fragments of this blog, perhaps what can be redeemed is this fact: that the ultimate sacrifice is never made without smaller, seemingly insignificant sacrifices made prior to it. The sacrifices would largely be chalked up to "my job" by most of my students and those around me. But I think there is something deeper involved. I do not claim to be the best teacher or the most sacrificial. Yet I think that despite the incongruent images, spending two hours to make bon-bons for my seniors, staying in my classroom until the sun has gone down again, listening to their stories and ramblings, grading their countless assignments, and taking them in prayer to nearly every Mass I've been to since I got the job--all of these will be the tiny sacrifices that make it possible for me to make the "ultimate sacrifice" should it be required of me. Sacrifices like these and the ones many other teachers make will generally not gain the headline on the newspaper, but they are what makes it possible for one to lay down one's life for a friend.
May God grant peace to those who have died, peace to those who survive, and peace in our hearts and the entire world. May He also grant us the grace to sacrifice, regardless of the personal cost.
I saw this not to downplay or dismiss the losses felt by those in Newtown, but simply to re-evaluate our constant desire to know more about it. I, too, have watched news fragments on the Internet and desired to weep over what was being shown. There is something about the death of the innocent that evokes strong feelings within each person. It is a greater sense of injustice, a greater wrong has been perpetrated. The grief we feel would be of a different caliber had the victims all been adults. But when we see the ages of 6 and 7, we rightly feel that justice was not done. Every time something like this happens, I internally link it back to abortion. Not because I want to diminish the tragedy and say, "Something bad happens every day, get over it." Far from it. I desire to simply say, "Yes, this is a tragedy. But there is another tragedy that doesn't get the news coverage, that doesn't get the recognition it deserves because it is considered to be a 'hot button' issue and that people have conflicting feelings about it. Or because it is a choice. That is a tragedy that we should all be weeping over." The death of the innocent does evoke a heartache in us that speaks to our very desire to defend that which is weak and vulnerable. Rightfully so. But let us not forget the accepted deaths that occur daily. Let not familiarity breed apathy. We hear about abortion and so we are accustomed to the horrors of it. Yes, it is bad, but could it truly ever be stopped? I don't think that is the important issue, really. Each parent would greatly desire one more of those children to be spared, even if the child was not their own. As such, I desire for each child that is being carried into the abortion clinic to be spared, to be carried out once again, living in the womb of his mother.
As a teacher, I find it especially touching to hear the stories of the teachers who sacrificed their lives or put themselves in harms way for the sake of their students. It makes me wonder if I would have the same resolve. My students had asked me about the morality of a very hypothetical situation over a month ago. I had been telling them that it was wrong for the biblical Saul to commit suicide and that while we can never judge the fate of one who committed suicide, that the act is always intrinsically wrong. Being sophomores, they wanted to find a circumstance in which it would be acceptable. Who better to put on the stake then their teacher? So the situation went as follows: say a person came in with a gun and said that either I killed myself or he would kill all of my students. They looked at me, thinking that they had stumped me.
"Which one would you pick? Would you sacrifice yourself for us or would you just watch us all be killed?"
They thought I had to choose one of their options. I was firmly convinced that there were other ways that they had not thought of. So I presented my "game plan" to them, should this event ever actually take place in real life. I said that I would throw myself at the man--knowing that I would die--but that when I did that, all of the men in the classroom were to jump up and charge him also. They seemed a little surprised by my response, and while I wasn't, I was left wondering if this was really a matter to be discussed with my students. A while after I heard about the Newtown murders, I re-thought what I had told them and decided that I wouldn't really alter anything I had said. The vastly hypothetical situation seemed a little less out there and closer to home. I thought about how I would be shaking and terrified, but I prayed that God would give me the necessary strength, should something like this actually happen.
Perhaps this is inappropriate to put in a post that also speaks about Newtown, but I don't think it is. I often refer to my students as "my kids" even though I know they aren't really kids, but they do feel in a way like they are mine. They may never know the affection I harbor for them, even the ones that also drive me up the wall. For the most part, I can never tell them I love them, because they would never take it as seriously or as deeply as I mean it. They are each too deep to know in such a short amount of time, yet I feel like I know quite a bit about them, simply from their behavior and class work.
From the fragments of this blog, perhaps what can be redeemed is this fact: that the ultimate sacrifice is never made without smaller, seemingly insignificant sacrifices made prior to it. The sacrifices would largely be chalked up to "my job" by most of my students and those around me. But I think there is something deeper involved. I do not claim to be the best teacher or the most sacrificial. Yet I think that despite the incongruent images, spending two hours to make bon-bons for my seniors, staying in my classroom until the sun has gone down again, listening to their stories and ramblings, grading their countless assignments, and taking them in prayer to nearly every Mass I've been to since I got the job--all of these will be the tiny sacrifices that make it possible for me to make the "ultimate sacrifice" should it be required of me. Sacrifices like these and the ones many other teachers make will generally not gain the headline on the newspaper, but they are what makes it possible for one to lay down one's life for a friend.
May God grant peace to those who have died, peace to those who survive, and peace in our hearts and the entire world. May He also grant us the grace to sacrifice, regardless of the personal cost.
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