"Physics tells us that everything on this planet will fail us eventually. Trust someone, fall in love: your scars will tell the same story. Entropy, pain, beauty, love, hope... Mix them together and call it living. The choice that remains is where we go to find meaning and truth. When you're face down at the very bottom of who you are, and there is no formality or pretense to cling to, all your masks fall off... in this broken place, our lives can be seen for what they are... no more, no less; we are ourselves. The question is: What happens after the twin towers in our lives fall? Do we become bitter and hateful or does redemption come into focus? I've been on both sides. Only one is beautiful."
-Jon Foreman
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Saturday, January 17, 2009
my new favorite poem
when faces called flowers float out of the ground
and breathing is wishing and wishing is having-
but keeping is downward and doubting and never
-it's april(yes,april;my darling)it's spring!
yes the pretty birds frolic as spry as can fly
yes the little fish gambol as glad as can be
(yes the mountains are dancing together)
when every leaf opens without any sound
and wishing is having and having is giving-
but keeping is doting and nothing and nonsense
-alive;we're alive,dear:it's(kiss me now)spring!
now the pretty birds hover so she and so he
now the little fish quiver so you and so i
now the mountains are dancing, the mountains)
and having is giving and giving is living-
but keeping is darkness and winter and cringing
-it's spring(all our night becomes day)o,it's spring!
all the pretty birds dive to the heart of the sky
all the little fish climb through the mind of the sea
all the mountains are dancing;are dancing)
e.e. cummings
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
last semester of college
"Go forth and set the world on fire."
-St. Ignatius Loyola
Sounds like the perfect mission statement for my final semester at Bates.
-St. Ignatius Loyola
Sounds like the perfect mission statement for my final semester at Bates.
Friday, January 9, 2009
Doubt
Recently I went to see the new movie 'Doubt' with Meryl Streep and Philip Seymour Hoffman, and was so intrigued by the entire premise, that it has left me thinking for the past few days... and while I don't believe I have come to any conclusions, maybe uncertainty is the only possible conclusion.
The movie opens with a homily from Father Flynn that sets the premise for a story about the parish priest who has been caught in a sexual abuse scandal, and the nun who ultimately catches him.
"What do you do when you're not sure? That's the topic of my sermon today. You look for God's direction and can't find it. Last year, when President Kennedy was assassinated, who among us did not experience the most profound disorientation. Despair. 'What now? Which way? What do I say to my kids? What do I tell myself?' It was a time of people sitting together, bound together by a common feeling of hopelessness. But think of that. Your bond with your fellow beings was your despair. It was a public experience, shared by everyone in our society. It was awful, but we were in it together. How much worse is it then for the lone man, the lone woman, stricken by a private calamity. 'No one knows I'm sick. No one knows I've lost my last real friend. No one knows I've done something wrong.' Imagine the isolation. You see the world as through a window. On the one side of the glass: happy, untroubled people. On the other side: you. Something has happened. You have to carry it, and it's incommunicable. For those so afflicted, only God knows their pain, their secret. The secret of their alienating sorrow. And when such a person, as they must, howls to the sky, to God, 'Help me!' What if now answer comes? Silence... There are those of you in church today who know exactly the crisis of faith I describe. I want to say to you: Doubt can be a bond as powerful and sustaining as certainty. When you are lost, you are not alone."
From here, the movie sets up several intriguing questions. Who can we trust? Is morality absolute? 'Doubt invites the viewer to think... to push beyond their blind devotion and black-and-white worlds, and to experience the uncertainty and grayness that is life. In this way, 'Doubt' raises some probing questions about the challenges of navigating a world increasingly confronted with moral dilemma and societal change.
For me, the most thought-provoking moment occurred with the final line. Throughout the movie, Streep's character, Sister Aloysius is confident and strong. No obstacle will deter her from achieving her vision of justice and morality. She is the singular stronghold of certainty in an uncertain world. But once Father Flynn has been driven out of her parish, and she has achieved her aims, instead of relishing in her victory, Sister Aloysius breaks down. Sobbing, she concedes that she too, has doubt.
What does this mean? The one character who seemed to be above all uncertainty, and so strongly anchored to her faith and her morality simultaneously doubts those tenets so basic to her existence. The viewer comes to the realization that doubt has an infinite nature. No one is above doubt.
In terms of faith, I think everyone, at one point or another, experiences doubt. Without doubt... without ever truly examining or challenging our faith... I think it is impossible to truly believe. And the more I think about it, the more I am convinced that it is the same in life. Doubt is a life-sustaining force, if understood properly. Doubt allows for growth and change, whereas certainty is a dead-end. Where there is certainty, the conversation is over. There is no point in further exploration or discussion. Where there is certainty, we have given up on the challenging, fulfilling aspects of life. We must learn to live life with a measure of uncertainty.
And now going back to Father Flynn's homily which opened the movie. Doubt can be a bond. It is a public experience. How much worse is it when we believe we are alone... when no one knows of our pain, or our problems, or our sin? When no one can understand us, or can commiserate? The overarching message of this movie, is ultimately that everyone doubts. Of that, we can at least be certain. And so throughout those times when we feel so incredibly isolated and despair that we are the only ones, we can find certainty in one thing. We are not alone.
The movie opens with a homily from Father Flynn that sets the premise for a story about the parish priest who has been caught in a sexual abuse scandal, and the nun who ultimately catches him.
"What do you do when you're not sure? That's the topic of my sermon today. You look for God's direction and can't find it. Last year, when President Kennedy was assassinated, who among us did not experience the most profound disorientation. Despair. 'What now? Which way? What do I say to my kids? What do I tell myself?' It was a time of people sitting together, bound together by a common feeling of hopelessness. But think of that. Your bond with your fellow beings was your despair. It was a public experience, shared by everyone in our society. It was awful, but we were in it together. How much worse is it then for the lone man, the lone woman, stricken by a private calamity. 'No one knows I'm sick. No one knows I've lost my last real friend. No one knows I've done something wrong.' Imagine the isolation. You see the world as through a window. On the one side of the glass: happy, untroubled people. On the other side: you. Something has happened. You have to carry it, and it's incommunicable. For those so afflicted, only God knows their pain, their secret. The secret of their alienating sorrow. And when such a person, as they must, howls to the sky, to God, 'Help me!' What if now answer comes? Silence... There are those of you in church today who know exactly the crisis of faith I describe. I want to say to you: Doubt can be a bond as powerful and sustaining as certainty. When you are lost, you are not alone."
From here, the movie sets up several intriguing questions. Who can we trust? Is morality absolute? 'Doubt invites the viewer to think... to push beyond their blind devotion and black-and-white worlds, and to experience the uncertainty and grayness that is life. In this way, 'Doubt' raises some probing questions about the challenges of navigating a world increasingly confronted with moral dilemma and societal change.
For me, the most thought-provoking moment occurred with the final line. Throughout the movie, Streep's character, Sister Aloysius is confident and strong. No obstacle will deter her from achieving her vision of justice and morality. She is the singular stronghold of certainty in an uncertain world. But once Father Flynn has been driven out of her parish, and she has achieved her aims, instead of relishing in her victory, Sister Aloysius breaks down. Sobbing, she concedes that she too, has doubt.
What does this mean? The one character who seemed to be above all uncertainty, and so strongly anchored to her faith and her morality simultaneously doubts those tenets so basic to her existence. The viewer comes to the realization that doubt has an infinite nature. No one is above doubt.
In terms of faith, I think everyone, at one point or another, experiences doubt. Without doubt... without ever truly examining or challenging our faith... I think it is impossible to truly believe. And the more I think about it, the more I am convinced that it is the same in life. Doubt is a life-sustaining force, if understood properly. Doubt allows for growth and change, whereas certainty is a dead-end. Where there is certainty, the conversation is over. There is no point in further exploration or discussion. Where there is certainty, we have given up on the challenging, fulfilling aspects of life. We must learn to live life with a measure of uncertainty.
And now going back to Father Flynn's homily which opened the movie. Doubt can be a bond. It is a public experience. How much worse is it when we believe we are alone... when no one knows of our pain, or our problems, or our sin? When no one can understand us, or can commiserate? The overarching message of this movie, is ultimately that everyone doubts. Of that, we can at least be certain. And so throughout those times when we feel so incredibly isolated and despair that we are the only ones, we can find certainty in one thing. We are not alone.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Last post of the night! Can you tell how far behind I've gotten in actually posting these entries?!
More thoughts from Anne Rice's autobiography...
"The more I study this, the more I listen to people around me talk about their experience with Jesus Christ and with religion, the more I realize as well that what drives people away from Christ is the Christian who does not know how to love. A string of cruel words can destroy another Christian. Over and over again, people write to me to explain why they left the church in bitterness and hurt, because of the mercilessness of Christians who made them feel unwelcome, or even told them to go away. I'm convinced that it takes immense courage to remain in a church where one is surrounded by hostile voices; and yet we must remain in our churches and we must answer hostility with meekness, with gentleness, or simply not at all" (227).
That one hits close to home... talk about God putting before you the words you need to hear at the moment... With all of the struggles that have gone on within our church these past couple of years, these words are incredibly affirming. So, so many times I have been tempted to leave, to separate myself from the situation completely... or to confront those who have been so hurtful, and set things straight. But there has always been a small voice inside telling me to stick it out, quietly and patiently, and trust that God will see it through. And I'm beginning to listen to that voice, and to believe it.
Rice continues by touching on sin. "Sin for me resides in those acts of cruelty both spectacular and small, both deliberate and careless, and always involving the hurt - the real hurt - of another human being. I myself am haunted by destructive things that were said to me when I was a child, and over the course of my adult life. I can think of something said to me when I was ten years old and feel exquisite pain remembering how humiliated or hurt I felt. What that means to me, however, is not only that I must forgive each and every instance in which such things happened, but that I must admit that my own words and actions may still be hurting people who can remember them from numberless incidents over sixty-six years. All that gossip, all that criticism, all that spitefulness, all that meanness, all that verbal sparring, all that anger - all that failure to love" (233).
I just love that description. A sin means not simply specific infractions, but all of those occasions and instances when we fail to love. It's not just enough to treat someone civilly, or to coexist with those around us who might be more difficult to get along with... God asks more of us.
Love.
More thoughts from Anne Rice's autobiography...
"The more I study this, the more I listen to people around me talk about their experience with Jesus Christ and with religion, the more I realize as well that what drives people away from Christ is the Christian who does not know how to love. A string of cruel words can destroy another Christian. Over and over again, people write to me to explain why they left the church in bitterness and hurt, because of the mercilessness of Christians who made them feel unwelcome, or even told them to go away. I'm convinced that it takes immense courage to remain in a church where one is surrounded by hostile voices; and yet we must remain in our churches and we must answer hostility with meekness, with gentleness, or simply not at all" (227).
That one hits close to home... talk about God putting before you the words you need to hear at the moment... With all of the struggles that have gone on within our church these past couple of years, these words are incredibly affirming. So, so many times I have been tempted to leave, to separate myself from the situation completely... or to confront those who have been so hurtful, and set things straight. But there has always been a small voice inside telling me to stick it out, quietly and patiently, and trust that God will see it through. And I'm beginning to listen to that voice, and to believe it.
Rice continues by touching on sin. "Sin for me resides in those acts of cruelty both spectacular and small, both deliberate and careless, and always involving the hurt - the real hurt - of another human being. I myself am haunted by destructive things that were said to me when I was a child, and over the course of my adult life. I can think of something said to me when I was ten years old and feel exquisite pain remembering how humiliated or hurt I felt. What that means to me, however, is not only that I must forgive each and every instance in which such things happened, but that I must admit that my own words and actions may still be hurting people who can remember them from numberless incidents over sixty-six years. All that gossip, all that criticism, all that spitefulness, all that meanness, all that verbal sparring, all that anger - all that failure to love" (233).
I just love that description. A sin means not simply specific infractions, but all of those occasions and instances when we fail to love. It's not just enough to treat someone civilly, or to coexist with those around us who might be more difficult to get along with... God asks more of us.
Love.
called out of darkness
I just finished reading Anne Rice's autobiography, "Called out of Darkness," and just had to blog about it. It was such a thought-provoking, inspiring read. Here are a few of my favorite parts!
Anne Rice grew up as a traditional Catholic in New Orleans, but upon entering college, she found her faith challenged in myriad ways. Religious tenets and basic beliefs were no longer simply accepted, but rather carefully examined, and gradually set aside. For many years, Rice was atheist, and expressed these beliefs through some pretty dark writing... but eventually, felt that there was something more out there... and this is the story of her faith conversion. Rebuilding a relationship with God is a gradual process.
At first, she realizes that "God doesn't disappear when you turn away from Him; He remains, acknowledged in myriad forms, and even in the miracle of the ever shifting clouds themselves... Surely what I felt in that moment was love" (164).
Eventually, Rice becomes not only convinced of the Lord's presence in her life, but experiences a feeling of being pursued by the Lord. What a perfect word to describe the image of a shepherd trying to regain one of his lost sheep... not only is God waiting anxiously for her to return, but he is actively pursuing her. I love it.
As her faith develops, Rice surrenders her doubts to God, and comes to the understanding that she doesn't need to understand. "It was love that brought me to this awareness, love that brought me into a complete trust in Him, a trust that God who made us could not ever abandon us - that the seeming meaninglessness of our world was the limit of our understanding, but never, never the limit of His... How can I describe the realization that He was the Divine Safety Net through which nothing could accidentally fall?" (185).
Another mind-blowing idea. How many times do we, as Catholics, get stumped by the 'why' questions. "Why does God let bad things happen to good people?" "Why would God put me through this?" "Why?" And finally there is an answer. We don't know. It is simply beyond the grasp of our understanding. But it is not important for us to know... only to trust.
Finally, Rice is ready to surrender herself entirely to God. As she considers this prospect, she examines what this truly means. What does it mean to say to God, "Thy will be done," and "do with me what you will"? She ponders, "As a child I'd once pledged my life in its entirety. What would I do now if the Lord asked of me that I come and follow Him?" (205). Talk about a tough question... I think every one of us would like to say that we would follow, without question, without doubt. But would we really? Would I? It's a tough call.
I suppose the best we can do is to keep trusting the process... one day at a time... one challenge at a time... and to continually put our fate into God's hands with each new day.
Anne Rice grew up as a traditional Catholic in New Orleans, but upon entering college, she found her faith challenged in myriad ways. Religious tenets and basic beliefs were no longer simply accepted, but rather carefully examined, and gradually set aside. For many years, Rice was atheist, and expressed these beliefs through some pretty dark writing... but eventually, felt that there was something more out there... and this is the story of her faith conversion. Rebuilding a relationship with God is a gradual process.
At first, she realizes that "God doesn't disappear when you turn away from Him; He remains, acknowledged in myriad forms, and even in the miracle of the ever shifting clouds themselves... Surely what I felt in that moment was love" (164).
Eventually, Rice becomes not only convinced of the Lord's presence in her life, but experiences a feeling of being pursued by the Lord. What a perfect word to describe the image of a shepherd trying to regain one of his lost sheep... not only is God waiting anxiously for her to return, but he is actively pursuing her. I love it.
As her faith develops, Rice surrenders her doubts to God, and comes to the understanding that she doesn't need to understand. "It was love that brought me to this awareness, love that brought me into a complete trust in Him, a trust that God who made us could not ever abandon us - that the seeming meaninglessness of our world was the limit of our understanding, but never, never the limit of His... How can I describe the realization that He was the Divine Safety Net through which nothing could accidentally fall?" (185).
Another mind-blowing idea. How many times do we, as Catholics, get stumped by the 'why' questions. "Why does God let bad things happen to good people?" "Why would God put me through this?" "Why?" And finally there is an answer. We don't know. It is simply beyond the grasp of our understanding. But it is not important for us to know... only to trust.
Finally, Rice is ready to surrender herself entirely to God. As she considers this prospect, she examines what this truly means. What does it mean to say to God, "Thy will be done," and "do with me what you will"? She ponders, "As a child I'd once pledged my life in its entirety. What would I do now if the Lord asked of me that I come and follow Him?" (205). Talk about a tough question... I think every one of us would like to say that we would follow, without question, without doubt. But would we really? Would I? It's a tough call.
I suppose the best we can do is to keep trusting the process... one day at a time... one challenge at a time... and to continually put our fate into God's hands with each new day.
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