Image and Likeness
2021 was supposed to be the year of civility and normalcy. Well, we didn’t get it. Instead, we got more acrimony and animosity. Last year I wrote about walking under the stars and listening to the Bible. I had started the Bible in a Year podcast with Fr. Mike Schmitz. I didn’t make it past day 25 or so, but I’m starting over.
One of the interesting points that Fr. Mike makes is the reason why we should read the Bible. It’s not only to discover God’s wisdom for us. It’s to help us craft a worldview. There are many points of view on offer, most of which are served up through advertising and social media feeds. But what does it mean to have a Catholic worldview?
The Catholic worldview rests on a simple premise: all people are created in the image and likeness of God.
We’ve heard that phrase many times, but have we considered its weight? It asserts that every single human person is known by, loved by, and belongs to God. Adopting it as our worldview has the potential to radically change how we live our lives.
How would our driving habits change if we saw not a driver with annoying habits, but God’s daughter at the wheel? How would we read the news differently if each news story was seen involving God’s children? How would our political temperature change if we saw ideas being put forward by a child of God?
Our families, our communities, and our society does best when we stand together. But we can only stand together if we’re willing to reach out our hand and grab on to someone else’s. That becomes much simpler when we see one another as we truly are, a person that belongs to God.
All Things New
What a lousy two years we’ve had. Disruption, distortion, and distrust maligned what was supposed to be a grand opening of a new decade. Peace, prosperity, and stability reigned, and we collectively looked forward to more of the same. How quickly that all faded.
We spent the first few months of disruption trying to figure things out, usually on the fly. We expected it to be past us like a summer storm: violent, scary, but over quickly. Now, at the start of 2022, we see the light at the end of the tunnel. The messaging and posturing around us represents that we are nearing the fifth stage of grief, acceptance. It’s like a breath of fresh, spring air.
As we stand on this peak, it’s important to take stock of these past two years. We now have a better understanding of the disruption, and tools with which to deal with it. The new year is a milepost for reflection, but I think that we need to look more deeply at ourselves and our lives. Two years passed, and in many ways, they were wasted. We treaded water and let precious time tick away, time that we’ll never get back.
We learned things about ourselves, perhaps things we preferred not to learn. They are just new opportunities for continuing on the Franciscan path of constant renewal. The biggest lesson of all that we should take away is that this was an absolute MasterClass in the reality that we are not in control.
In the Book of Revelation, Christ mounts His throne and declares that He makes all things new (Revelation 21:5). A powerful statement from the Creator and sustainer of all that exists. Death, decay, disorder, and destruction vanishes at the command of Jesus. He turns death into life, disorder into order, and destruction into the New Jerusalem.
The suffering, pain, isolation, and spiraling that we all experienced, do we really believe that God is more powerful than it all? Do we really believe that He can set things right? It may not be in this place or this time, but we are travelers, journeying to an ordered, perfect reality wholly of His making.
We’ve spent too much of our time, seeking to be in control. We’ve spent too much effort on our pursuits, our days tinkering away at useless things. The hands and feet of Christ never stop moving, they’re always working with focus. You and I are workers building the Kingdom that is, at this very moment, on its way.
Two lousy years are over, and there is light at the end of the tunnel. It’s time to stand up and dust off. It’s time to prepare our hearts and homes for the advent of Christmas, the arrival of the Bridegroom.
Love So Deep
The bright Christmas lights that lit homes in my neighborhood since Thanksgiving have gone dark. For my neighbors, Christmas ended at bedtime on Saturday. Not so for my house. Our Christmas lights shine forth in the December darkness, and the Nativity in our yard continues to cast a massive shadow on our garage.
This Christmas season has just begun, a mystery so great that a single day cannot contain it. It’s not just that Christ became Emmanuel, God with us, but how and why He did it.
Our life is but a breath, we read in Scripture. 70, 80, or 90 years is a blink of an eye in the scope of history. Our impacts are small; reaching a few thousand people in our lifetime and perhaps building a family tree in the hundreds. Yet, despite our smallness, God gave up everything to come and save us. He descended from His throne, the place of total power and knowledge, to take on our humanity, our weakness. He chose this path and this time for a reason.
He chose to be born in ancient times. It was a time of great discomfort when compared to our modern comforts. It was a time when news travelled slowly, a far cry from our 24-hour news cycle. It was a time of harshness, of evil, and brutal governments.
But He chose. He chose it to come and to save you and me. He chose it out of a love so great and so deep that we have no reference for it. He chose it so that we could choose to accept it, and be together forever. His choice reached its fulfillment on Easter morning, but it was a process that started with Mary’s simple fiat.
The joy of the season is now here after weeks of preparation. Leave your lights on and your tree up. Don’t put away your Christmas dishes and decorations. Leave them up and relish the joy of a love that gave up everything just to be with you forever.
Now
In some ways, I think that we like the busyness of life. Sure, everyone complains and uses it as an excuse or justification. I deserve this break because I work so hard, I can’t come to the party because I’m too busy. There are plenty of things to fill our days, but I think we might be using these excuses to let the pitch pass us by.
Advent is quickly winding down. In just a few days, the Nativity of Our Lord will be here, a season of joy and celebration. How well did you use Advent? What new insights did you gain by reflecting on the true meaning of the season? What positive steps have you taken to make straight the paths of the Lord?
Answers to these questions can be an indictment against us. After all, each time we go to Confession, we’re likely able to confess not dedicating enough time each day to prayer. But here again is another trap. It’s a trap to not be reflective, to not pray. It’s also a trap to despair or let it be cause for our prayer life to continue on in neglect.
The point is that living a moral, holy, and saintly life is not easy. That’s why we have grace, the Church, and the Sacraments. Not only do we have access to them, but we desperately need them. The objective is not to live a perfect life, that’s an unattainable goal. The objective is to live a saintly life. Ordinary men and women of all backgrounds, overcoming their human nature and striving for holiness despite their failings. That is the life we’re meant to live.
The best time to live a saintly life was yesterday. The best time to reflect, amend, and convert your heart was yesterday. The second-best time is now.
Creating Evil
I rarely go to the movies. In fact, I think the last new movie that I saw in theaters was Mission Impossible 6 in the summer of 2018. I intended to go see the new James Bond film in October when it came out, but I missed the narrow window. I watched it this weekend and it was terrible.
The problem with film, and art generally, is that it comes from the culture in which it was created. We live in a world that likes to flirt with evil, as if it’s nothing. The Bond movie touched on several fictional, but evil themes and events. The problem is that evil is very real, and it’s totally destructive.
In the Creation allegory, the writer shares with us an essential truth about good and evil in our world. Before the Fall, the serpent had access to the Garden of Eden, but no power over it. Despite the presence of Satan, evil itself, the Garden was good, and the world was at peace. It was only when Satan gained the complicity of man that evil entered into the World.
We see this truth shared again in the Gospel. Jesus tells the crowd, “Nothing that enters one from outside can defile that person; but the things that come out from within are what defile.” (Mark 7:15)
God, in His wisdom, granted humankind creative powers. We can create ideas, art, and structures. Our greatest creative capacity comes in our ability to co-create new life. But when we use this creative capacity for darkness, evil enters more deeply into the world.
The World has enough evil. It’s better to use our creative powers to create beauty all around us.
Make Straight Paths
Advent is like happy Lent. Both seasons are penitential, and both invite us to prepare our hearts for the two seminal moments of the Church year. Yet, we’re always more excited about Advent. Christmas is the long-promised arrival of the Savior, but Easter is Christ’s victory over death and the opening of our salvation.
Despite the seasonal similarities, most of us treat Lent like Catholic New Year’s Resolutions and Advent as an afterthought. We race from Thanksgiving to Christmas with only four candles standing in our way. It’s a naturally busy time, with things winding down at the end of the year. It’s an opportunity to slow down, again, and prepare our hearts for our ultimate goal.
Ancient peoples often settled on the banks of rivers. The waters ensured that people, crops, and livestock could flourish. Water is life. Rivers seldom flow straight. Instead, they cut meandering paths through the countryside. As these peoples travelled from town to town, their journey on foot took time. Today, we’ve conquered these natural obstacles with roads, bridges, train tracks, and airplanes. We’ve mastered the geometric truth that the shortest distance between two points is a straight line.
In the journey of our lives, we aspire to walk a straight path. We want to travel from where we are, directly to the joy of Heaven. Daily, even hourly, we deviate. As we look in the rearview mirror, a long and winding road comes into view. There are the times when we dedicated ourselves to prayer and virtue, and times when we strayed. Looking forward, we see the path before us, but don’t always choose to follow it.
The prophets tell us to make straight the paths of the Lord, to focus on Him and move directly towards Him. God knows us and knows our hearts. He doesn’t expect perfection. He patiently anticipates failures and deviation. That’s why He gave us the Church and the Sacraments. These mile markers and road signs guide us back to where we want to go.
Advent is the second check-in of the year to get us back on the straight path. It’s another chance to confess our failures, seek the forgiveness of God, and to return to the path that is the shortest distance between where we are now and life forever with God in Heaven.
Pivot
We’re in a season of disruption. Three major holidays in a row, travel plans, end of year tasks, and more all add up to significant calendar changes. Our routines upended, we’re left scrambling to find the peace of the season while still covering our bases.
I read that the main characteristic of the 21st century is flexibility. Life in a rapid, 24 hour-cycle requires frequent adaptation. This isn’t just about the pandemic, but really the massive changes that have occurred since 2008, and even back to 2001.
To be successful, we must pivot. This is true in all aspects of our lives, including our spiritual lives. Daily prayer is the essential medicine to encourage virtue and help us to avoid sin. If it becomes so mundane that we resist or skip it, we put ourselves at risk. We have to pivot to a new prayer routine or expression of faith.
Structure is good, but rigidity is fatal. We have to be willing and able to pivot. We have to look forward and see disruption coming, and ensure that we’re living our best lives.
Scripture Before Phone
I just finished reading The Common Rule by Justin Earley. A former missionary and currently an attorney, Earley lived through the negative consequences of many of our modern daily habits. He pushed himself too hard to gain max productivity, and found himself addicted to his phone.
In the book, Earley develops a modern Rule in the model of the religious Rules of Catholic religious communities. He lays out eight habits, four of which are to be done daily, and four of which are to be done weekly. He isn’t Catholic, but his writing and his theology sure read like he is! It’s a fantastic book.
One of Earley’s daily habits is “Scripture Before Phone.” He relates how early in his career, he’d wake up, open his email on his phone, and start responding to requests from colleagues before he even got out of bed. In the book, he explores how our habits build the themes of our days. Starting his day with his phone lead to days of stress and anxiety.
Seeking to overcome this negative trend, Earley decided that he would spend time reading Scripture before unlocking his phone for the first time. The result? He started his day steeped in God’s love instead of the responsibilities of work. He was greeted with the peaceful joy of time in God’s presence instead of giving up the first quiet moments of the day to frenetic work.
I’ve implemented this habit, and the results are wonderful. There’s very little quiet time in a house with four small children. I get up two hours before they wake up, but I budget 90 of those minutes to my physical health. That leaves me a mere 30 minutes during my waking hours when I’m alone and the house is still. Spending those minutes in quiet prayer is relaxing and rejuvenating. With my prayer time complete, I’m more calm throughout the day.
With the clock change last week, my kids are now up during the tail end of my morning prayer. If I’m lucky, Lucy or Felicity will come downstairs in her footie pajamas and climb on the couch to snuggle with me.
Morning is a beautiful time, one that should be enjoyed slowly with good exercise, good coffee, and quiet time spent in reflection. Nothing spoils a morning like 30 minutes of swiping and scrolling. If you want to try something different, commit to spending time with Scripture before your first swipe.
Dads on Duty
There’s a great human interest story making its rounds about a high school in Louisiana. They’ve suffered numerous fights this academic year, leading to dozens of students arrested or expelled. Not wanting to let this sort of behavior continue, over 40 dads in the community signed up to patrol the school hallways.
School Resource Officers, sworn police officers detailed to schools, are common in most school districts in America. They provide a level of immediate protection to students and harden campuses. The downside to having police officers in the schools is a concerning trend of administrators referring students for criminal prosecution over matters that would otherwise be handled as a disciplinary matter by the school district.
It’s easy to see a problem and assume that someone else will handle it, someone with authority. These dads chose another path. They volunteered to take shifts at the high school. Dressed in visible red shirts, they talk and joke with the kids and quietly assert their own manly authority.
The students have responded.
Fights have stopped, students are showing up to class, and many kids are even reporting a calmer learning environment. These dads don’t carry credentials or weapons, they aren’t paid by the school district, are they are is present. A fatherly presence is a part of childhood that far too many children miss out on. It’s a presence that can mean all the difference in a child’s life.
Active, engaged, and loving fathers have the power to change the world. If only we’d let men step up to the plate and crank it out of the park.
Acceptance
Most of the Christian life is about acceptance. Acceptance is the humble admission that the great plans of God are far superior to the limited ones we have for our lives.
Humility is a Christian virtue. It’s easy to get ahead of our skis, setting out plans and ideas for ourselves that stray far from the mind of God. Humility calls us back to the essential truths of life. Our life is for loving and serving others.
Since 2006, I’ve lived with chronic migraines. It’s the paradigm through which my life processes. My lifestyle choices, career choices, even plans for each day must pass muster through migraine. Migraines are limiting, but upon reflection, they’ve served more like providential bumpers. My plans fell by the wayside, and God’s plan of adventure for my life took hold.
I’m another point of acceptance. After years of trial and error, I’ve learned that a strict ketogenic diet is my best treatment plan. If I want to be in control, I need to avoid the deliciousness of sweets and carbohydrates. But all is not lost. I’m less hungry, at a healthier weight, and I have energy. I’m able to accomplish my tasks and play with my children. Our schedules suffer less disruption and my sleep schedule is no longer restrictive.
Acceptance is not resignation. I’m not resigned to a particular diet, a victim of my biological circumstances. I’m free to enjoy so many delicious foods. Not only that, but I lose far fewer days to migraine, and so I’m free to live each day with joy and energy,
This is the essential, if not paradoxical lesson, that I’ve internalized. Giving up on my plans opens me up to the grander vision God has for me.