In Luke 17, Jesus gives ten people with leprosy new lives by curing them of their illnesses. He then tells them to show themselves to the Jewish priests, so that they can re-enter society. On their way to the priests they realize they are healed. How amazing it must have been to suddenly be able to feel with their hands again.
Nine of them continue on their way, and one of them "turned back, praising God with a loud void, and he fell on his face at Jesus' feet, giving him thanks. Now he was a Samaritan. Then said Jesus, 'Were not ten cleansed? Where are the nine? Was no one found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?' And he said to him, 'Rise and go your way, your faith has made you well.'"
One can hardly blame these nine for not going back, since they were on their way to the priests who would allow them to re-enter Jewish society: their spiritual, social and ethnic homeland. They were going to their old home without realizing that "something greater than the temple is here." (Mt 12:6)
These poor nine were spiritually blind. But it's easy for us, who stand on the outside, to think that when you're healed, you should go to the person who healed you instead of the people who were ostracizing you. But they were caught up in the moment. "Finally," they must have thought, "They will accept me!"
According to Leviticus, lepers had to live alone outside "the camp," and when they walked around they would have to say "unclean, unclean." (Lev 13: 45-46) It's not surprising that members of God's society were outcasts, since God himself became an outcast of our sake. This is a deep mystery.
The lepers were doubtlessly given graces, though, to handle their unfortunate status; but one can only imagine the abuse they must have taken from "clean" people. They must have had deep emotional wounds, and perhaps they went back to the Jews instead of to Jesus in order to heal these wounds. The nine didn't realize that the one who healed their bodies could also heal their emotions and spirits.
When we are wounded emotionally, do we go to the person who wounded us, or do we go to Jesus? When someone has hurt us, and we feel unaffirmed, we sometimes feel that if that person were just to accept me as I am, I could finally accept myself. We tend to go back and go back to the person who is wounding us because we just want to prove that we're worth something. We have to let go of this! It is in Jesus' eyes that we are really worth something. We are his brothers and sisters and children. His little ones!
So how do we allow Jesus to heal us? By speaking with Him. We can whisper our deepest hurts to Him, and He will listen to them and begin His healing motions in our hearts. We can also visit the sacraments, especially confession, which will give us the strength to finally let go of the lies that are like dams, clogging up the flow of grace in our lives. We just need to bring Jesus into our lives, and not forget to thank Him when we're healed!
Thursday, April 3, 2014
Sunday, March 30, 2014
God's Glory in the Death of Lazarus
When Jesus arrives at Lazarus’ house after his death, Martha mentions that if Jesus had been there, Lazarus never would have died. Then Mary mentions it. Then the people at large mention it. So it is mentioned three times.
But Jesus did allow Lazarus to die. Why? Jesus says Himself, “This illness is not unto death; it is for the glory of God, so that the Son of God may be glorified by means of it.” (Jn 11:4) Jesus allowed Lazarus to die so that he could raise Him from the dead and show the glory of God.
When we become ill, or lose someone close to us, or don’t get the job we wanted, we generally ask God “Why?” We are like Martha and Mary and the people at large, who say, “If you had only been here…” But Jesus allows these setbacks and sufferings so that his glory can be manifested.
And his glory is manifested when a person loses something very dear to him, like his wife or his health, yet continues to praise God. God’s glory is manifest in people like Job, who lose it all, yet remain faithful to the Lord. People like Job make the fundamental assertion that “God is good,” even when all evidence seems to be stacked against His goodness.
God loves faithfulness, and it is faithfulness that allows a person to remain with God through the difficulties. Difficulties make our faithfulness strong, and the more faithful we become, the more like God we become, and the more His glory is made manifest in us.
Wednesday, March 26, 2014
The Name on Jesus' Stone in Heaven
Emmanuel, "God with us." Maybe Emmanuel is the name on Jesus' stone held by the Father in heaven (Rev 2:17). Jesus means "God saves," and in heaven Jesus' salvific mission has ended, and he is simply with the saved, the angels, the Father and the Holy Spirit.
No one is supposed to know what is written on a person's stone. But isn't it like the Son, in the fervor of his love, to reveal his most hidden self? Emmanuel, "God with us." The truth of this name has begun to unfold, and unfolds in each of our lives as the name "Jesus" is fulfilled. At the end of time, when God is all in all, maybe the Son will be praised as Jesus and rejoiced with as Emmanuel.
No one is supposed to know what is written on a person's stone. But isn't it like the Son, in the fervor of his love, to reveal his most hidden self? Emmanuel, "God with us." The truth of this name has begun to unfold, and unfolds in each of our lives as the name "Jesus" is fulfilled. At the end of time, when God is all in all, maybe the Son will be praised as Jesus and rejoiced with as Emmanuel.
Friday, March 21, 2014
Our Two Cents
The widow puts two cents into the temple treasury. According to Jesus, this is "all the living that she had." (Lk 21:4) It was two cents, not one cent. It's easier to put in your whole living if you just have one cent. But to have two cents, and to give both of them away to God, that is remarkable.
It would be easier to think "I have two cents, one for me and one for God." But no, she gives God both of them. You'd think that every preservation-instinct-alarm-bell would go off in her head, and would manifest themselves in a flurry of excuses like "It's so little money and the temple treasury is so rich!" or "I'm an old woman and I need to take care of myself," or "I'm a widow and don't have a husband to take care of me, I should save this money."
We all have two cents: a body and a soul. Really, they are all that we have, all that we are. We decide whether to give them to God, or whether to make excuses about why we need to hold onto this pleasure of the flesh, or that interest of the soul. To give them away to God means to rely on Him, just as this widow did for her next meal. God will provide us with all the joy and peace that we need, we just have to place our body and soul into the life of Christ, the Treasure of the Church.
It would be easier to think "I have two cents, one for me and one for God." But no, she gives God both of them. You'd think that every preservation-instinct-alarm-bell would go off in her head, and would manifest themselves in a flurry of excuses like "It's so little money and the temple treasury is so rich!" or "I'm an old woman and I need to take care of myself," or "I'm a widow and don't have a husband to take care of me, I should save this money."
We all have two cents: a body and a soul. Really, they are all that we have, all that we are. We decide whether to give them to God, or whether to make excuses about why we need to hold onto this pleasure of the flesh, or that interest of the soul. To give them away to God means to rely on Him, just as this widow did for her next meal. God will provide us with all the joy and peace that we need, we just have to place our body and soul into the life of Christ, the Treasure of the Church.
Tuesday, March 18, 2014
Avoiding Catholic Hypocrisy
Jesus upbraided the crowd for not interpreting the present time as being the Messianic Age. They didn’t realize that the Christ was among them, so Jesus says to them, “When you see a cloud rising in the west, you say at once, ‘A shower is coming’; and so it happens. And when you see the south wind blowing, you say, ‘There will be scorching heat’; and it happens. You hypocrites! You know how to interpret the appearance of earth and sky; but why do you not know how to interpret the present time?”
It may seem harsh at first that Jesus is calling the people hypocrites for not realizing that he is the Christ. But we have to think of the tone that Jesus probably spoke these words in. I doubt he had a harsh tone of voice. His tone of voice probably had frustration in it, but also affection. Harshness is born of fear, and Jesus wasn’t afraid of the people. He loved them.
But why is a person hypocritical for not interpreting the present time? To answer this, let’s turn to the present time. We are currently in the Messianic Age, so Christ is approaching us directly at each moment, and forming His Church according to His will. He is constantly forming the Church to address the needs and concerns of the contemporary age, because Christ reaches out to people where they are.
When a person does not interpret the way Christ is reaching out to him and the rest of the world, but rather has his own plan for his salvation and apostolate, he quickly becomes hypocritical. This is because he claims he is on the path to sanctity, and that he is leading others toward God, but really he is ostracizing himself from the Body of Christ by choosing his own plan over God’s plan.
The people whom Jesus addresses in the quoted Gospel passage were hypocrites in part because they could interpret physical signs but not spiritual signs, but also because they had their own plan for what the Messiah should look like, and Jesus was not falling into line with their ideals. They claimed to be God’s people, yet they were denying God and his plan. This is hypocrisy.
It’s up to us to do our best to keep up with the Church so that we don’t end up being hypocrites. There are several ways to do this. First, we need to listen to our Pope, the Vicar of Christ, who sets out a plan of action for the Church. Our current Pope seems to emphasize the importance of joy, tenderness and mercy when relating to others. According to Evangelii Gaudium all members of the Church are called to spread the faith with joy. Not a bad plan.
Another way to remain in Christ is by listening to priests who, in their homilies and meditations, continually bring the Word of God to life in our contemporary circumstances. The Word of God is living and effective, and priests interpret it for the present age. We can also interpret Scripture ourselves, and do our best to apply it to our lives.
It’s the struggle of every person who calls himself Christian to let go of everything that goes against the will of God. God wants us to be perfect as our heavenly Father is perfect, which means doing our best to live without hypocrisy, in the joy of Christ who is constantly coming out to us and inviting us into the feast. All we have to do is say “yes.”
Saturday, March 15, 2014
The Hidden Leaven
Jesus says of the kingdom of God, “It is like leaven which a woman took and hid in three measures of meal, till it was all leavened.”
Just like the mustard seed that is hidden in the earth, the leaven is hidden in “three measures of meal.” God’s kingdom is hidden, but becomes visible by its effects. The dough rises, though we don’t see the leaven itself once it is hidden in the meal. Our own experience of God is often that he is hidden, yet we can still see the effect he has on our lives, and feel the peace and joy of His presence.
When the leaven is heated up, it creates bubbles of carbon dioxide, which make the dough rise. God does something similar in our own lives. He expands our interiors and makes us free. We catch glimpses of the vast horizons of the Spirit of God. He opens us up by helping us to let go of attachments until we are empty inside, so that we can be filled by God’s love.
The meal can be considered the stuff that God works with. He works with our souls and our bodies, with our habits and our passions. He takes all of this, along with our flaws and even our sins, and leavens it, raising it up toward heaven.
The mustard seed was sown in the garden by a man, and the leaven is hidden in the meal by a woman. The woman hiding the leaven is just like Mary, who hid Jesus in her womb for nine months; and the man sowing the seed is just like Jesus, who, as the new Adam, tends the gardens of our souls.
Thursday, March 13, 2014
The Mustard Seed
God says of His kingdom, “It is like a grain of a mustard seed which a man took and sowed in his garden; and it grew and became a tree, and the birds of the air made nests in its branches.”
The aspect of this parable we always think of is that mustard seeds are tiny and become the largest of trees (shrubs), and in this way are like the kingdom of God. That’s what Jesus himself says in Matthew. But in Luke, quoted above, Jesus does not interpret the parable for us, which leaves us some space to interpret it ourselves, remembering that the most important interpretation is Christ’s.
Mustard trees can be as wide as they are tall. They are like semi-circles, and they can be quite messy, which makes them look like comfortable homes for birds. They are quite full, too, so they are a good place for birds to get out of the sun. The Christian tries to be like a comfortable home for the people who spend time with him. It is good for his presence to be like a cool shade which provides his friends a nice rest from the outside world.
Mustard trees produce a purple fruit that is sweet and nutritious. It is up to every Christian to bear fruit, and for their fruit to mix sweetness and substance. Substance without sweetness is harsh and ultimately resented by the person who receives it. Sweetness without substance is ephemeral and doesn’t really help. The right balance hits home but in a gentle way.
When a seed is planted, it is hidden in the earth. It goes through a period of dormancy, before it germinates and puts out shoots. These shoots remain underground until they get large enough to break into the open air. The kingdom of God is also hidden at first, and can come into a person’s life without his even being aware of it. This time of dormancy and germination is the preparation for the epiphany a person has when he suddenly becomes aware of the kingdom of God: When he suddenly sprouts into the light.
The fruits (and seeds) of a mustard tree aren’t used to make mustard, nor are they popularly consumed like apples. But the mustard tree has borne a fruit more wonderful than any other tree: It has been used by Jesus to reveal the mystery of the kingdom of God.
Tuesday, March 11, 2014
Living from the Heart
When someone speaks from the heart, people listen. People love being in touch with the speaker, who seems to be able to reach everyone because he is speaking as a person to other people. And these are the two motions of the heart: to know and to communicate. The heart knows through experience, when it is touched by another person. It communicates in words and actions.
It is usually a powerful experience when we hear a person speak from the heart. It hasn’t come cheap for him: access to the heart takes work. It involves removing the noise and distraction that drown out the words of the heart and make it unable to be touched.
By being silent and listening to himself a person can familiarize himself with his heart. There are so many different voices swirling around one’s interior. The key is to let those voices be heard, so that they can quiet down. Once they quiet down, one begins to hear the words that come from the heart. These words are like magma bubbles that pop into our consciousness.
One also accesses his heart by accepting his own littleness. There is no such thing as a great man or woman. We are all little children in God’s eyes. Little children act from their hearts, and so should we. But we get so confused in our own pride and our longing for recognition that we forget who we are. The true heart is little, and can only be heard by little children.
Finally, one accesses the heart by allowing it to act and speak. The heart usually moves in warmth. People fear that if they’re warm with someone else the warmth will turn into heat. But warmth remains just warmth unless a person decides to heat it up. Being warm with others helps one to be warm with himself, and then he is more likely to open up to himself.
One must also let go of the tight control over one’s words. It’s natural to fear what might come out if one stops controlling his words. Also, controlling words can be good if it means not being nasty to someone else. But to control one’s words for the sake of one’s own image just won’t fly with the heart.
A person who is in unity with his heart is one with himself. He is not only able to act more effectively, because what he does he does with passion, but he is able to be more. He is able to accept himself and be happy with who he is, which has a way of diffusing itself to other people.
Friday, March 7, 2014
A Path to Joy and Understanding
Joy comes to the soul that embraces its own flaws and those of others. We are not meant to root them out as though they were weeds and we were the gardeners. Flaws are meant to be shown mercy and patience, the way God showed mercy and patience toward the Israelites, or the way Jesus showed mercy and patience toward his disciples in the Gospel.
Flaws are not sins, they are defects that make it difficult to function normally, and the effects of those defects. Who said we were meant to be perfectly ordered in this life? When we accept our disorderliness, we're able to accept ourselves. We are disordered creatures. Original sin caused us to lose our integrity. Now Jesus has come with a Gospel of mercy, not perfection. If we want to be perfect as our Heavenly Father is perfect, we must be merciful. If we have no flaws, we cut off a pathway of mercy in our lives. St. Paul would boast of nothing but his weakness.
What better way to witness the mercy of God than by seeing that he continues to pour out his grace on us even though we have flaws and mess up? God wants to show us the kind of Love that is there for us in our imperfection. When we are weak, then we are strong. When we are open about our flaws, then people can see our humanity. When people witness the humanity of a Christian, they witness Jesus Himself.
Does that mean we should adopt flaws to have a greater claim to God's mercy? Of course not. We already have enough flaws as it is, we just often can't see them. But armed with God's mercy, we can begin to explore our own shortcomings, and make our way to a greater understanding of ourselves and of the God who Loves us. Then the flaws will begin to work themselves out.
The Order of Knowing
One of the most obvious things in life, though it is often neglected, is that things are a certain way. Things are only one way, and nothing is two things at once. Everything is breathtakingly specific, and it's the specificity of being that makes it intelligible. It's because things are one certain way that we're able to say "This object is this way and not any other way," and when we are able to say this we have learned something, so long as what we claim corresponds to the way things are.
So learning is a matter of knowing what is and what is not. This involves listening to the way things are. In order to learn we have to be silent, with quiet minds, so that when we interact with something the thing imprints itself on our minds, rather than having our minds be preoccupied with things that are not what we're observing. Our minds are a specific way, and they must be free enough of distraction so that they can specifically conform to the object they are encountering.
When we encounter an object in a state of silence, we take in two fundamental things. First, that the object exists; and second, that the object exists in a specific way. The appreciation of the existence of a thing always comes first, then comes the understanding of its specificity. So a person who is able to appreciate being is actually ahead of a scholar who lacks wonder but knows every word in the dictionary. When the first step is neglected, and only the specificity of a thing is known, the person knows in an abstract way that is not grounded in reality.
Beginner's luck is an interesting phenomenon that I think gets at what appreciation for existence is. When the beginner first encounters a game he has a vision of it as a whole: he sees it as an existing totality. Then, as he plays on, he starts to zero in on the specifics of the game, and loses his vision of the whole, his balance, thus getting worse before he can get better. It's once he masters the game, or at least becomes proficient at it, that he regains his vision of the whole with a more profound perspective than he had at first. This vision of the whole, this vision of being, is what is most enjoyable about knowing a thing. In a perfect world, we learn specifics in order to further our appreciation for existence, and not the other way around. So let's do what we can to be silent, and allow existence to speak to us in its gentle way, first in that it exists, second in how it exists.
Sunday, March 2, 2014
Understanding Francis
Pope Francis is my spiritual father. He is wise and loves from the heart. He's free enough to love without fear. Unfortunately, many people react to Francis in one of two ways: They either love him with an uninformed love that transforms him into whatever they want him to be; or they question him, because they think that in his boldness he will hurt the Church.
The uninformed love for Francis is common among people who don't pay much attention to what is actually going on in the Church. They hope that Francis will change moral teachings. They are like the biblical scholars who want to reshape the "historical Jesus," but end up just making Jesus look like themselves.
The second camp is the one that sees Francis as a danger. They are afraid of someone who emphasizes love and compassion over truth and correction. Of course, both are necessary, and Francis has both (the truth is he corrects the people who overemphasize correction). But he looks to reconcile in a radical way, which leaves some people wishing he would place greater emphasis on what makes the Church different.
Many in this second camp think that as soon as the first camp realizes that Francis "is Catholic," in other words, holds to the moral teachings of the Church, they will abandon him. But saying this frames the whole issue in precisely the way Francis is trying to teach us not to frame it: as though the Church is fundamentally just a structure that dispenses controversial moral values to a begrudging world. That may not be the way the people of the second camp view the Church, but it's the way it seems to the outside world.
In the Gospel, Jesus rebukes the crowd, saying, "You hypocrites! You know how to interpret the appearance of earth and sky; but why do you not know how to interpret the present time?" (Lk 12:56). It seems that Francis is gently saying this to Catholics who overemphasize moral teaching. The way to reach people in the present age is not through emphasizing morality. It's not through taking the posture that "I'm against abortion, you're for abortion, we have irreconcilable differences." Francis does not want the Church to get a divorce from the modern world. He wants the Church to embrace it with Divine Love, which is always true.
But, the second camp replies, Francis' rebuke of Catholic moralism, like when he said that some members of the Church are obsessed with certain doctrines like abortion, gives aid and comfort to forces against the Church. But what about when Jesus said that whoever doesn't eat his flesh or drink his blood has no life in him? His disciples probably thought they would look crazy if they stayed with Him. People against Christ would have tons of ammunition from this statement. Francis has the freedom, though, to say things that he knows might be misinterpreted, because people, especially his disciples, need to hear them. Isn't that what Jesus Himself did with parables? He who has ears to hear, let him hear.
Between these two camps is another reaction to Francis. It's one that gives him the benefit of the doubt, and works to understand where he is coming from. I think that if we give him the benefit of the doubt, we'll realize that he is an extraordinary gift from God, with a lot to tell us about how to become saints in the modern world. He is ushering in a springtime, which looks nothing like we thought it would, and it's up to us whether we want to bear fruit in the vineyard that he's tending, Christ's vineyard.
Note: A great way to better get to know Francis is by reading his daily reflections. They are short and beautiful. Check them out by going to www.vatican.va, and clicking on "Daily Meditations of the Holy Father" on the left side of the screen, third icon from the top.
Tuesday, February 25, 2014
If God is so Close, Why Don't I See Him?
If God is so close, why don't I see Him, or feel His presence? This is an obvious question that can trip people up. If God cares about me so much, why don't I feel like He's there for me?
The answer to this question is, I think, that God is so close to us that we don't see Him. How can this be? The truth is that many of us don't see what is closest. We look past our parents, our siblings, and even our friends toward things that could be ours, if only we could reach them. We look for the perfect moment at a party, or for wealth, or for recognition, or for popular friends, without being happy with what we already have.
The closer we get to the people around us, the closer we get to ourselves, and the closer we get to God. It's easy to strive after some goal and ignore the people around us. When we do this, we are ignoring God as well. How can we feel close to Someone we ignore? How can we see Someone we don't even look for? If we look out at a crowd, we'll rarely notice a person we're not looking for. God is a member of that crowd, and we can only find Him if we know what He looks like.
What does God look like? He looks like a lonely friend, like a forgotten parent, like a suffering brother. God is in the people we forget and ignore. He's in the people we try to impress, who really just want friendship. He's in you and me, who suffer and need help.
So how can we see God? By starting with the people who are already close to us, and working to make our relationships with them accepting and happy. Share things you love with them, and perhaps they'll share things with you. When we try to love the people around us, God is with us, and He overcomes barriers. We need to let go of the bitterness, let go of the anger, and let God into the relationship.
The answer to this question is, I think, that God is so close to us that we don't see Him. How can this be? The truth is that many of us don't see what is closest. We look past our parents, our siblings, and even our friends toward things that could be ours, if only we could reach them. We look for the perfect moment at a party, or for wealth, or for recognition, or for popular friends, without being happy with what we already have.
The closer we get to the people around us, the closer we get to ourselves, and the closer we get to God. It's easy to strive after some goal and ignore the people around us. When we do this, we are ignoring God as well. How can we feel close to Someone we ignore? How can we see Someone we don't even look for? If we look out at a crowd, we'll rarely notice a person we're not looking for. God is a member of that crowd, and we can only find Him if we know what He looks like.
What does God look like? He looks like a lonely friend, like a forgotten parent, like a suffering brother. God is in the people we forget and ignore. He's in the people we try to impress, who really just want friendship. He's in you and me, who suffer and need help.
So how can we see God? By starting with the people who are already close to us, and working to make our relationships with them accepting and happy. Share things you love with them, and perhaps they'll share things with you. When we try to love the people around us, God is with us, and He overcomes barriers. We need to let go of the bitterness, let go of the anger, and let God into the relationship.
Happiness is Nearby
Where do we look? Jesus says that the eye is the lamp of the body, and if the eye is sound, then the soul is sound and there is light within. So where do our eyes go? Where do we cast our souls? How far away is that thing we feel we need? Where are we sure that we would be happy?
The funny thing is that in general our happiness finds us. Happiness is all around us, and the way to become happy is by accepting and choosing what is already there. Our parents, for example, have been given to us. So have our brothers and sisters, and even our friends. Have we responded by accepting and choosing them? By being happy that we have them in our lives?
One of the keys to happiness is acceptance. Here is a decision to be happy: accept that I am here, with these parents, these siblings, these friends, this work, this social life, this illness, this character flaw. We have to decide to be happy with the things we have in order to be happy.
The irony is that we often go looking way out there for happiness, when it was right in front of us all along. We are already literally close to people (e.g. a roommate or a parent), so why not also try to be close to them with friendship? Being close to the people around you is a key to happiness.
People who are close don’t always want to be friends. But a saint said that where you can’t find love, if you put love there, you’ll find love. Find something both of you enjoy, and you’ll quickly come to enjoy that person’s presence. If you have nothing in common, pray for the person, and something will come up. Maybe share a thought or two with him that you wouldn’t normally be open about.
There are, of course, exceptions, like bad influences and marriage boundaries, but these and exceptions like them aside, look to what is nearby, accept it, choose it, and happiness will follow.
Sunday, January 19, 2014
Darkness Here
Darkness Here
As I walk the evening stars
Map the halls of my memory,
And stars, though bright,
Provide no light for here,
But radiate there,
Where as fires they light dark space.
There's darkness here,
And I can hardly square
What was with what's to come,
Or why the luminous ball fell
And shattered with my dreams.
And all the more, now, to hear
The echoes of that crash,
And not to say "It's this, or that,"
But simply to receive
And to accept the painful fact.
As I walk the evening stars
Map the halls of my memory,
And stars, though bright,
Provide no light for here,
But radiate there,
Where as fires they light dark space.
There's darkness here,
And I can hardly square
What was with what's to come,
Or why the luminous ball fell
And shattered with my dreams.
And all the more, now, to hear
The echoes of that crash,
And not to say "It's this, or that,"
But simply to receive
And to accept the painful fact.
Sunday, January 12, 2014
Spring Rain
Spring Rain
She gazed at the pavement, with water dripping down her yellow poncho. She hadn't moved for five minutes, and I was beginning to wonder what was wrong. I wanted to speak to her without disturbing her tranquility. It was to defeat a sadness, whether in her or me, that I stuck out my hand and said, "Hi, I'm Ryan." Her hands were in the pockets of her poncho, and before she pulled out her right hand she slowly looked up. Her eyes were a soft green and bloodshot, and untouched tears rolled down her light brown cheeks.
"Hi," she said, shaking my hand.
"I'm sorry to disturb you," I said.
"No, it's okay." Her gaze was gentle, and while holding my eyes up to hers I felt a light pleasure permeate my mind. She was more attractive than I had originally thought. A nagging voice suggested that she was too beautiful for me. "Are you a freshman too?"
"A junior," I said. "Why, do I look like a freshman?"
"No, I was just making conversation." She took a crumpled tissue out of her pocket and blew her nose.
"I'm sorry you're upset about something," I said.
"Oh, I'm just imitating the weather. Sometimes the skies just need to open up."
"Where are you from?"
"A city in Ohio called Steubenville."
"No wonder. Here strangers don't really talk to each other. I'm a Midwesterner at heart. If I had a choice, I would have grown up in the Midwest."
"Where did you grow up?"
"Here in the city."
"Wow, a real New Yorker. I hardly ever meet anyone who's actually from New York." Her eyes lit up with sincere excitement, but it was fleeting, and sighing, she fell back into her gentle sadness. "You don't have an accent or anything."
"I know, I like to think I speak with the universal accent, the kind you hear on TV. Everyone who gets a certain type of education has it."
"I'm glad southerners aren't educated that way," she said, a look of determination passing across her face. "what we have is a sort of lack of an accent. I wish I had an exquisite accent, it would make me more interesting. When an accent is good it really holds peoples' attention. I bet no one ever interrupted Robert E. Lee. There was a man with authority and an accent."
"He didn't have an accent to other Southerners, though. He just sounded normal to them."
"Kind of like how the city must seem normal to you," she said. "I don't think it could ever be normal to me."
"It's funny, I don't think a person ever quite gets used to the city. It's always just a little bit abrasive, a little bit intense."
"You should move to the Midwest then and get some peace."
"Maybe I will." There was a lull in the conversation, and she dropped her gaze down to the wet pavement. As I stole a glance at her, I realized that she reminded me of a painting I once saw of the Virgin at the presentation in the Temple, when Simeon tells her that a sword will pierce her heart. There was some physical resemblance between them, but what was more striking was the way the two seemed to have the same sad silence. I felt the need to draw close to her, to free her from her sadness. Maybe she had a problem she couldn't discuss with anyone, and it would evaporate the minute she described it.
"I lost my uncle this past year," I said, hoping to initiate a mutual openness, albeit premature.
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"Yeah, we were really close. He and I used to play catch on Saturday mornings. We played in front of the wall of a building, and he would crouch down as a catcher, and I would hurl the ball at him as hard as I could. We had to stop because he said I was going to break his hand."
"How did he die?"
"Cancer. He got chemo and everything, lost his hair, but it didn't work."
"It must be difficult losing someone close like that," she said. The rain had stopped, and the sun was coming out. She took off her poncho and thoughtfully shook it out, then folded it and placed it under her arm. "I can't imagine what that's like." So no one near her had died.
"You've never lost a relative?" I asked.
"A couple of grandparents, but I didn't know them very well. No one very close to me has ever died," she said, "I'm very lucky."
"That's good. Have you gotten your midterms back yet?" I thought I would take another tack.
"Yes, and I did really well!" she said, smiling for a moment. "One of my teachers served coffee during the midterm, and when he got to me he spilled it all over my desk, so I got an extra hour."
"That's Dr. Simon, isn't it?"
"Yeah. Oh look, here comes a bus. It's not the one I want, though."
"This is my bus," I said, disappointed.
"Well it's been lovely talking to you. Maybe I'll see you around," she said.
"Yes, I hope so. I haven't asked you your name."
"Abby." I boarded the bus and glanced at her as it pulled away from the sidewalk.
I saw her around campus, and she maintained her mysterious sadness. It was strange, because it didn't make the people around her sad. They were usually smiling and laughing. She even radiated a certain joy, yet the sadness persisted.
About a month after I met her I went to the campus health center for a sore throat. There she was, sitting in the waiting room. I walked over and sat next to her. "What're you in for?" I asked.
"I'm meeting with the counselor," she said.
"Oh, I hope it's nothing serious."
"No, not really." She leaned toward me, put her hand up to my ear, and whispered, "I'm bipolar."
I almost said "of course you're bipolar," but instead I just nodded and said "Oh."
She gazed at the pavement, with water dripping down her yellow poncho. She hadn't moved for five minutes, and I was beginning to wonder what was wrong. I wanted to speak to her without disturbing her tranquility. It was to defeat a sadness, whether in her or me, that I stuck out my hand and said, "Hi, I'm Ryan." Her hands were in the pockets of her poncho, and before she pulled out her right hand she slowly looked up. Her eyes were a soft green and bloodshot, and untouched tears rolled down her light brown cheeks.
"Hi," she said, shaking my hand.
"I'm sorry to disturb you," I said.
"No, it's okay." Her gaze was gentle, and while holding my eyes up to hers I felt a light pleasure permeate my mind. She was more attractive than I had originally thought. A nagging voice suggested that she was too beautiful for me. "Are you a freshman too?"
"A junior," I said. "Why, do I look like a freshman?"
"No, I was just making conversation." She took a crumpled tissue out of her pocket and blew her nose.
"I'm sorry you're upset about something," I said.
"Oh, I'm just imitating the weather. Sometimes the skies just need to open up."
"Where are you from?"
"A city in Ohio called Steubenville."
"No wonder. Here strangers don't really talk to each other. I'm a Midwesterner at heart. If I had a choice, I would have grown up in the Midwest."
"Where did you grow up?"
"Here in the city."
"Wow, a real New Yorker. I hardly ever meet anyone who's actually from New York." Her eyes lit up with sincere excitement, but it was fleeting, and sighing, she fell back into her gentle sadness. "You don't have an accent or anything."
"I know, I like to think I speak with the universal accent, the kind you hear on TV. Everyone who gets a certain type of education has it."
"I'm glad southerners aren't educated that way," she said, a look of determination passing across her face. "what we have is a sort of lack of an accent. I wish I had an exquisite accent, it would make me more interesting. When an accent is good it really holds peoples' attention. I bet no one ever interrupted Robert E. Lee. There was a man with authority and an accent."
"He didn't have an accent to other Southerners, though. He just sounded normal to them."
"Kind of like how the city must seem normal to you," she said. "I don't think it could ever be normal to me."
"It's funny, I don't think a person ever quite gets used to the city. It's always just a little bit abrasive, a little bit intense."
"You should move to the Midwest then and get some peace."
"Maybe I will." There was a lull in the conversation, and she dropped her gaze down to the wet pavement. As I stole a glance at her, I realized that she reminded me of a painting I once saw of the Virgin at the presentation in the Temple, when Simeon tells her that a sword will pierce her heart. There was some physical resemblance between them, but what was more striking was the way the two seemed to have the same sad silence. I felt the need to draw close to her, to free her from her sadness. Maybe she had a problem she couldn't discuss with anyone, and it would evaporate the minute she described it.
"I lost my uncle this past year," I said, hoping to initiate a mutual openness, albeit premature.
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"Yeah, we were really close. He and I used to play catch on Saturday mornings. We played in front of the wall of a building, and he would crouch down as a catcher, and I would hurl the ball at him as hard as I could. We had to stop because he said I was going to break his hand."
"How did he die?"
"Cancer. He got chemo and everything, lost his hair, but it didn't work."
"It must be difficult losing someone close like that," she said. The rain had stopped, and the sun was coming out. She took off her poncho and thoughtfully shook it out, then folded it and placed it under her arm. "I can't imagine what that's like." So no one near her had died.
"You've never lost a relative?" I asked.
"A couple of grandparents, but I didn't know them very well. No one very close to me has ever died," she said, "I'm very lucky."
"That's good. Have you gotten your midterms back yet?" I thought I would take another tack.
"Yes, and I did really well!" she said, smiling for a moment. "One of my teachers served coffee during the midterm, and when he got to me he spilled it all over my desk, so I got an extra hour."
"That's Dr. Simon, isn't it?"
"Yeah. Oh look, here comes a bus. It's not the one I want, though."
"This is my bus," I said, disappointed.
"Well it's been lovely talking to you. Maybe I'll see you around," she said.
"Yes, I hope so. I haven't asked you your name."
"Abby." I boarded the bus and glanced at her as it pulled away from the sidewalk.
I saw her around campus, and she maintained her mysterious sadness. It was strange, because it didn't make the people around her sad. They were usually smiling and laughing. She even radiated a certain joy, yet the sadness persisted.
About a month after I met her I went to the campus health center for a sore throat. There she was, sitting in the waiting room. I walked over and sat next to her. "What're you in for?" I asked.
"I'm meeting with the counselor," she said.
"Oh, I hope it's nothing serious."
"No, not really." She leaned toward me, put her hand up to my ear, and whispered, "I'm bipolar."
I almost said "of course you're bipolar," but instead I just nodded and said "Oh."
Tuesday, January 7, 2014
A Poem I Wrote - Evening into Night
Evening into Night
Is falling, softly,
Into unknown depths;
The evening sky,
My woven fantasy
I'd love her
With a sweet caress,
And would not alter
What I could not reach.
She flows into my eye,
The gentlest sunIs falling, softly,
Into unknown depths;
I’d follow her
On downy wings
But then she would
Just rise,
Forever and forever
Around the curving globe.
Perhaps she sinks
Into my questioning heart,
And echoing doubts
Dissolve like dark in light,
And in those depths
She warms me through the night.Saturday, January 4, 2014
Notes on the Current Age
Primacy of feeling in general culture - Emphasis on the feeling subject - Things make sense and are perceived as relating to one another exclusively within the person, on the level of feeling, rather than an objective, exterior one (e.g. "I'll vote for X for mayor because I feel like he's a good guy," rather than "I'll vote for X because he was a CEO, and so has leadership experience...") - Can become as extreme as "I feel like this sunset is just like our cat Binxy" - Things are “true” because they are “liked” - Two contradictory ideas can be maintained at once, if the person likes them both (e.g. "I feel like every person has the right to define her world," while maintaining "He has no right to trespass on my property.") - A good person is someone who makes one feel good - A good action is one that feels right.
In emotivism the nucleus of the person, the heart, is thought to primarily produce emotional reactions and feelings - Identity gets heavily tied up in how one reacts emotionally to stimuli - Spontaneity of emotion is coveted - Gusto is coveted - Variety of stimuli (experience of new things) is coveted because it brings out a variety of emotional responses - One begins to seek out more intense stimuli - Youth is prized because it is the time when emotions are strongest (and prized for other reasons as well) - "Love" is purely emotional - Where there are no feelings or positive emotions, there is no "love" - Relationships oscillate between positivity and negativity, depending on the feelings of the people involved - Romantic relationships are intense, but often short-lived.
In general culture, personal engagement during leisure generally takes place at the level of entertainment rather than intellection or intuition - Sex and violence, two deep human impulses, become desirable as imagized through film and pornography - People increasingly relate to images and ideas rather than to persons - Strong emotions for immaterial ideas and images often cause frustration and abstraction (absent-mindedness, AKA inability to listen) - People are often not aware of the images and ideas they are passionate about. This leads to interior noise that drowns out movements of the heart.
Many friendships occur in a meeting of images and ideas - A friend is satisfied when the image his friend projects bolsters and accompanies the image he himself is trying to project - Ideas are primarily possessed emotionally rather than intellectually, so disagreement is seen as a danger to friendship, which is couched in positive feeling; there is thus a uniformity of ideas among friends - Individuals may hide their ideas to fit in, but with the dissolution of the family, friendship and television increasingly become the locations of inculturation, so young people receive all their ideas from the same sources, and do not receive many ideas they feel the need to hide - Television is image-oriented, and so is youthful friendship, so the creation and nurturing of a likable image becomes an obsession from a young age.
Through exertion that is often subconscious, the self gradually becomes located in the self-image - But a person is far more complex and deep than a single image, so from a young age people put a great deal of effort into rejecting those aspects of themselves that do not fit their images, lest those aspects pop out at the wrong time and at best embarrass them, at worse turn their friends against them - This rejection of self leads to self-loathing, as well as low self-esteem (ironically, emotivism produces its principal evil, low self-esteem) - Emotovism’s myth that a person has the power to decide who he is necessarily runs up against who he actually is, which includes the parts of himself that he rejected for the sake of his self-image. This collision is part of what makes up the "quarter-life crisis," - The youth-image hits a wall, shatters - One is compelled to accept some of his weaknesses, and a more mature image is put in in the place of the old.
With the obscuring of the heart, the understanding of personhood dissolves - Man, formerly elevated, dissolves into surroundings, whether nature or machine - A person's perception increasingly ceases to favor persons - Fundamental confusion about what is important - Admitted imperfect knowledge of what is important - Imperfection is treated with suspicion, so importance itself is thrown out and deemed indiscernible - Object-oriented perception, that one thing is important at a given moment, begins to dissolve - Loss of focus, loss of clarity of vision - Action becomes increasingly random - People reach out for life preservers, and find easily accessed paradigms (e.g. New Age religion) - Paradigms, dismissed in postmodernism as metanarratives, are grasped and applied intensely and without much reflection - Emotional satisfaction is seen as the primary goal when paradigms are applied. The paradigm is often discarded once it becomes emotionally unsatisfactory (though the emotivist may hold on to parts of it that he likes), and another paradigm is sought out.
Emotivism holds on to certain aspects of postmodernity - Irony: Allows one to emote in ways one would not normally permit oneself to emote, to experience desired emotions while protecting one’s image as being a person who ultimately does not care about things that run deeper than his image permits - Alienation: People share good feeling, but it is ultimately at the level of image, and therefore friends do not connect at the level that truly satisfies - Fragmentation: A person can feel good about something, then bad about it, then good again, without ever knowing why; feelings often don’t fit into paradigms, they occur at random, and the purely emotive person witnesses a seemingly random world, made up of values that the emotivist has picked and chosen for himself from various paradigms - Abstraction: the person increasingly feels for images and ideas rather than persons and objects.
Emotivism rejects certain aspects of postmodernity - Erudition - Coerced acceptance of the opinions of experts - Rejection of metanarratives (they are acceptable so long as they are emotionally satisfying, which they often are) - Marginalization of poetry - Active metaphysical denial - Irony for irony’s sake (irony now serves what is deemed a higher purpose).
Emotivism and modernity - The modern principle that one can do whatever he wants so long as he doesn’t hurt anyone is being combined with the primacy of emotions to produce the notion that one does not have the right to hurt another’s feelings - Peoples’ beliefs will be increasingly policed, so that no one will be permitted to believe that another person does anything “wrong” or “bad,” since that might lead to feelings of guilt and persecution.
Daily life of the emotivist - Young people often dislike their work, and live for the weekend - The most obvious reason for this is that work is difficult, but part of this difficulty is that work often forces one to transcend emotion and engage the world on the level of thought, because it is economically expedient to do so - Weekend nights are a time when one can get drunk and express emotions suppressed during the week - Thought and feeling are separated and compartmentalized - Unity of thought and feeling in work occurs only in those who "love what they do" in a way that transcends moment-to-moment feeling by means of commitment.
Emotivism and self-image - People generally don't permit themselves to care deeply about things - Intense emotion is only acceptable in playing and watching sports - It's better to have an emotional relationship with sports than an intellectual one - The image of "nerd" is acceptably intellectual, though a nerd's leisurely intellectual activity is expected to be frivolous.
In current high culture - There is an authority of the sufferer - Sufferer/sinner seen as having "true perspective" - The world must be felt, and since it is considered a dark place, the person who feels darkness, depression, is closest to the way things are - Authority of the mentally ill, who have a special knowledge of things as intellectual sufferers - Many influential essays and stories about mental illness - Death is the ultimate reality - Life is quaint - Rejection of the quotidian - The bent perspective of the mentally ill is seen as a frontier in the search for newness of feeling.
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