Archive for September, 2009

This morning my eyes shot wide open an hour and a half before my alarm clock, that is to say my two year old daughter, crawled into my bed and demanded her morning sippy-cup of milk. I laid there a full 30 minutes before I realized there was no hope of escaping back to sleep.  So I decided the situation provided the perfect opportunity to sneak in a prayer before my day took off like the Kentucky Derby and I was sprinting helter skelter towards the finish line (which is of course my bed).  But each time I began to pray the thought that there were a million other things I could be doing to make this day go by more smoothly pulsed through my mind.  In fact, just the thought of slowing down makes my chest tighten and my inner maniac want to run straight out the door in hysterics.  I shudder in fear and guilt as I consider all the people who would be disappointed by my refusal to stay busy. We were not created for this.

 I’m suddenly reminded of a verse found in Isaiah that I have curiously been unable to escape these past few months.  “In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength, but you would have none of it.” (Isaiah 30:15).  Surely this is a word for me and all of the frantic people of the twenty first century.

 

God and suffering

My family and I recently moved, and we have been unpacking boxes for days-sorting trash from treasures (or perhaps donations).  Today I came across a piece of paper on which I had scribbled this quote from Thomas Merton: 

 

“It is only the infinite mercy and love of God that has preventd us from tearing ourselves to pieces and destroying His entire creation long ago.  People seem to think that it is in some way proof that no merciful God exists, if we have so many wars.  On the contrary, consider how in spite of centuries of sin and greed and lust and cruelty and hatred and avarice and oppression and injustice, spawned and bred by the free wills of men, the human race can still recover, each time, and can still produce men and women who overcome evil with good, hatred with love, greed with charity, lust and cruelty with sanctity.  How could all this be possible without the merciful love of God, pouring out His grace upon us?”    -Thomas Merton

 

This is, I think, a piercing argument against the idea that no good God could allow such profound suffering in the world as we see today.   RD Hart

 

A Prayer for Perseverence

Set me free that I might dance

Despite life’s fickle circumstance.

And all that narcissism craves

Shall be surrendered to the grave.

And in that twilight resurrected find

All love and mercy mine.

 

Though doubts and darkness draw me near

Faith and hope give way to fear

Let not the truth of love’s pure light

Be swallowed up into the night.

Of death’s foul lies make me the wise

That I may never susupect you were a dream.

-RD Hart

 

New Beginnings

“For I know well the plans I have in mind for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare, not for woe!  Plans to give you a future full of hope.”  Jeremiah 29:11

 

            New beginnings are full of excitement as we consider the many glorious possibilities our future may hold.  But that excitement quickly fades when God does not respond to our demands for instant gratification.  Then the dreadful realization sets in that along with its immense possibilities the future is also quite uncertain.  Fears of failure and memories of painful disappointments quickly extinguish the light of our hope, immobilizing us from leaping with gusto into our future.  But if we could just trust, even just a little bit, that our Lord does in fact have our future in mind (and it is quite a brilliant future at that) we would find the burden of the future’s uncertainty much easier to bear.

            It would certainly be naïve of us to assume that all fear and sense of abandonment should magically subside the moment we declare our trust in God’s faithfulness.  It did not for Christ, and we should not assume that it will for us either.  Christ has come not to shelter us from the world in which we live, but rather to empower us to overcome all that destroys the goodness of life.  Through Christ alone we find the strength to welcome the future and all that it might hold knowing that we go there not alone but with the very one who has faced the abyss of darkness and emerged the final victor.

     RD Hart

 

The Problem with Mary

While walking through a men’s-only dormitory at Texas A&M University I once noticed that someone had written upon his door in capitalized white chalk letters, “I WANT MY RIB BACK!”  At the time I laughed thinking that despite this young man’s obviously wounded pride he was still able to maintain his sense of humor.  It wasn’t until several years had passed that I had the good sense to be offended.

Much of my life I have spent yoked to the presumption that women, being the inferior creatures that they are, owed everything they had (even their very existence) to men.   Men graciously allowed us to play their games, work in their offices and read their books, but they were the better musicians, doctors, lawyers, athletes and even the better drivers.  If a woman’s talent somehow surpassed that of a man’s she was the exception to the rule.  Men were always better.   

Though my parents endeavored to teach me likewise, I was convinced that I had been born into a world in which I could never successfully compete because half the competitors were given at least a ten minute lead.   I would always be second rate and on top of this my value as a woman was dependent upon how men viewed me.  Could I be rational despite my proclivity to female irrationality and emotionalism?  Was I pretty enough?  Was I seductive enough?  And yet as soon as I was seductive I became the archetypal female temptress, the slut.  Filthy used goods.  And to top it all off, my female seductiveness was to blame for the Fall of Humanity and the entrance of sin in to the world.  The woman made me do it!   Oh, and by the way, don’t listen to the “femi-nazis”.   They are in line with the devil. 

It is because of this mentality that my biggest hang-up with the Catholic Church was never the episcopacy, the male-only priesthood, the “closed” communion table or even praying to the Saints.  It was Mary.   Unlike many coming to the Catholic Church, I held no misconceptions as to what the Church taught regarding Mary.  I knew that the Church did not doctrinally elevate her to the level of the Divine.  Though she may be co-redemptorist she is not in the sense that her role in the redemption of the world is equal to that of Christ’s, nor did she exist (as the Mother of God) prior to any part of God.  She was a part of His creation, just as fully human as you and I.   She even called Jesus her Savior. 

As ridiculous as it may sound, it was Mary’s humanity that irritated me to the core of my being.  Why was she, a mere woman, elevated to such a high place, a place I could never achieve?   Was God picking favorites?  What was it about Mary that made her even better than men to receive such a place of honor in the eyes of God while the rest of us women remained second rate citizens?  It just didn’t seem fair. 

At the beginning of our journey into Catholicism, my husband, Dan, and I decided that we would only become a Catholic if and when we were able to affirm all of the Doctrines of the Church without having to cross our fingers behind our backs.  We did not want to be known as a “cafeteria Catholic” since we had long considered this to be a complete contradiction in terms.  If we were to become Catholics we were going to do so fully, giving our entire selves to the Church.  But as the completion of our third RCIA course and the date for our acceptance into the Church was quickly approaching, I was rehearsing all the ways I could break it to Dan that once again I was not going to be able to join the church because I just couldn’t seem to settle my arguments against the Marian Doctrines.    

It wasn’t just that I feared the Marian Doctrines portrayed a God who loved some more than others based upon their obedience to Him, but it also seemed to me that many of the teachings—namely Mary’s perpetual virginity, Immaculate Conception and sinlessness—seemed unnecessary if not down right heretical.  Furthermore, as far as I could tell, the entire Marian phenomenon was born out of Pope Pius IX’s ex-cathedra pronouncement of the Immaculate Conception of Mary in the nineteenth century.  And if it was not based in history, I was not going to buy it.   

So I went to Augustine, defender of orthodoxy, loved by Protestants and Catholics alike as the scourge of the most insidious of heresies.   Surely he would have something to say about Mary, especially the ridiculous and unnecessary notion of her perpetual virginity.  He did, and I read, “Virgin conceiving, a Virgin bearing, a Virgin pregnant, a Virgin bringing forth, a Virgin perpetual. Why do you wonder at this, O man?” (Sermons 186:1 [A.D. 411]).  And then again, “Heretics called Antidicomarites are those who contradict the perpetual virginity of Mary and affirm that after Christ was born she was joined as one with her husband” (Heresies 56 [A.D. 428]). “Oh great,” I thought.  “What am I going to do with this?”  But then it only got worse.  Saints Irenaeus, Tertullian, Justin Martyr, Jerome, Athanasius, Aquinas (just to name a few) and Polycarp (the very disciple of the Apostle John) all spoke of Mary being the Mother of God and the New Eve of her perpetual virginity and her sinlessness.  I had been betrayed by the very writers whose wisdom and orthodoxy had comforted and led me through the darkest of nights.  But I was not going to give up so easily!

I knew that the Marian Doctrines were soon to be discussed in our RCIA class and I prepared for battle.  At one point during the discussion I asked, with I must admit a considerable amount of self-satisfaction, “How in the world is a married couple supposed to refrain from having sex?  What did Joseph do the rest of his life—take cold showers every day?”  A few snickers were heard from the back of the room, but the majority of the people who surrounded me were aghast that anyone could be so brazenly sacrilegious.  I would have been embarrassed had it not been for all the practice I had had in sticking my foot into my mouth.  I have become quiet adept at riding the wave of uncomfortable silence.

I wish that at that moment someone could have had the insight to point out to me that I was approaching the equation all wrong.  I was judging the Marian doctrines, especially Mary’s perpetual virginity, through the lens of a culture obsessed with sex.  Sex is everywhere we look-on television, billboards, and in magazines.  Even our children’s programs are often infected with subtle messages of sexuality.  In fact, thanks to the sexual revolution, we are no longer identified by our religions, vocations, heritages, but rather by our sexual preferences and experiences.   Sex is a need they tell us; a compulsion we cannot control.  Rather it controls us, tells us who we are and how we are to use our bodies.  It all comes down to sex.  Everything else, even the protection of our very life, is secondary to our sexuality.  This is the reason my question, though poorly articulated, is so important for our day.

A day or so after my RCIA foible my father told me about a fictional book he was reading about the early life of Christ written by Anne Rice (I have yet to read the book myself).  As he was describing the premise to me I began to consider what life would have been like for the Holy Family, and it occurred to me that once Christ was born everything had to change.  Life as usual could no longer be for Mary and Joseph, because they were charged with the responsibility of loving, protecting, and raising the Christ Child.  Perhaps, I thought, a part of this calling required their abstinence from sexual relations not because sex is defiling or for the lower creatures, but because (let’s face it) sexual relations are complicated even when they are done within the confines of a healthy marriage.  That type of relationship takes your attention away from other things.  And when you are charged with caring for the Savior of the World you must keep a sharp and steady focus. 

Six months later I was haphazardly thinking about the Immaculate Conception still not able to see how Mary’s conception affected Christ’s—if God, I reasoned, wanted to protect Christ from original sin He could.  He’s God.  He can do whatever He wants—when the idea of the New Eve came to mind.  Eve, the first of all women, entered the world free from the stain of original sin. If Mary is the New Eve she must be free of the stain of original sin as well.  This is when the curtain flew wide open for me.  My moment of revelation.  One of us has actually completed the task we were created to fulfill from beginning to end, and that one is a woman.  She is the disciple of all disciples, whose faithfulness and love we are to emulate.  At long last, dignity to woman has been restored!

 

On the Saints

In the depths of my loneliness, it is tempting to feel overwhelmed by a paralyzing sense of isolation and to then wallow in inconsolable self-pity.  But none of us-even those who are not yet able to claim Christ as their Savior are included among these numbers-are ever truly alone.  In fact, on this day, during this very hour, at this exact moment, you and I are being enveloped by a multitude of prayers and petitions lovingly offered on our behalf.  These prayers belong not only to our loved ones, but also to the Saints who have gone before us.  Though they do not walk among us, they are more alive than we this day can claim to be since they now abide in the full presence of Christ and must no longer wrestle with the darkness and death of this world.  And even more powerful and comforting than all of this is the fact that we are swaddled in the intercession of the Holy Spirit with “groans that words cannot express” (Romans 8:26).  Even in our most reclusive state we are continuously being lifted up by the angels and Saints, sought and found by Christ as his most precious pearl, while the very Spirit of God prays on our behalf.  No, you and I are never, never alone.  For many the road to transformation has begun with this fantastic discovery.

RD Hart

 

I came across this quote by one of my all-time favorite writers, Dorothy L.  Sayers, the other day.  I’m not sure where it can be found (if anyone knows please send me the info so I can post it), but it is definitely food for thought.

“In the world it is called Tolerance, but in hell it is called Despair, the sin that believes in nothing, cares for nothing, seeks to know nothing, interferes with nothing, enjoys nothing, hates nothing, finds purpose in nothing, lives for nothing, and remains alive because there is nothing for which it will die.” Dorothy L. Sayers

RD Hart

 

 

Perspective

Perspective is nine-tenths of a joyful parenthood.  My discovery of this simple truth is in actuality only a by-product of two, though seemingly insignificant, life-altering revelations.  The first is as follows:  if one’s favorite thing in the world is, say, farm animals then it is quite possible for that person to see farm animals everywhere they look, from the wildly abstract art in the neighborhood coffee shop to even the most grotesque graffiti on the side of the road.  It all depends upon how one looks at a thing.  This, I suppose, is tantamount to looking at the world through rose-colored glasses.

The second revelation, most simply put, is that children are like cats.  As soon as they sense you are doing something for yourself they plop right down in the middle of the book you are reading or the project you are endeavoring to complete and demand your entire attention.  All three of my children came fully equipped with this catlike intuition which, I contend, explains my weed infested garden, my shamefully disorganized closets, and the fact that I have yet to complete a baby memory book for any of my children.

My father once told me that he believed marriage and parenthood to be two of the most effective tools God has found to rid the majority of us fickle and self-absorbed creatures of our mulish autonomy.  I laughed at the time because this brought to mind a friend who admitted to realizing after he got married that he was a selfish person, but it wasn’t until he had children that he realized just how selfish he was.  Now, however, the truth hits entirely too close to home for me to find it altogether amusing.

I had been inattentively knocking these bits of information around in my head for months without formally settling on a direct relationship between them all when one afternoon my son, Jack, toddled up to me and innocently handed me his copy of Eric Carle’s Brown Bear, Brown Bear that had been loved so dearly the pictures were beginning to peal away from their cardboard pages.  I knew well enough that this action coupled with his incoherent, though emphatic, babbles meant that he wished for me to drop everything I was doing and read the book to him for what could easily have been the hundredth time.  I still needed to add one more layer to the lasagna, sweep the shredded mozzarella that had exploded all over the floor, and find something to wear that did contain sticky fingerprints or smell of baby spit-up before the babysitter arrived in an hour.  The very last thing I wanted to do at that moment was to read the book.  But recalling a former resolution I had made to drop everything I was doing, within reason, when our children expressed an interest in reading, I sat down in the middle of the kitchen floor and began reciting Brown Bear, Brown Bear.

It was at this moment that all the pieces fell into place.  It finally dawned upon me that my responses to Jack (or any child for that matter), even in this situation that appeared to be perfectly inconsequential, have the power to speak volumes to him about his self-worth, the value of his needs and desires, the love of parents for their children, and the intricacies of relationships.  And whether I like it or not, as a parent my response to a child potentially translates into God’s response for him or her despite all the lovely Bible stories I read and songs I sing of Christ’s gracious love.  I have been given the opportunity to equip a child with dignity, confidence, and all the tools necessary for constructing relationships bedecked with love and generosity.  It is up to me to decide what I will do with this opportunity.  Naturally, this realization was more than enough to sober me out of my self-absorbed inebriation—just after I stealthily hid the Carle book between the cushions of our plush faux-suede couch, of course. 

RD Hart