The Challenge of Christmas Presents

Every year there's a similar debate in my family: what to do about Christmas gifts.

In the old days everyone gave presents to everyone. We all gathered in the living room - grandparents  to grandkids - for the exchange ritual. The youngest would have already opened their presents from Santa Claus. Then someone would pass out the wrapped gifts from under the tree. When most folks had at least one gift, someone gave the cue to start opening. The trick, however, was that the next person had to wait until the first gift was opened and everyone had her chance to ooh and ahhh.

Over the years we've modified this practice, trying to keep the original spirit. As families multiplied and the economy contracted, we've grappled with how to maintain the best parts of our tradition. (Tradition is big in our family!) This year it seems really hard. With more family members living farther away & the housing and jobs pain affecting many, what to do is more difficult to decide.

I was pondering why this question keeps coming up. Why can't we decide once and for all? One reason seems to be change.  Living families are always changing, so practicalities have to change with them. Another factor is that love & appreciation often compete with responsibilities and logistics at times like this. At Christmas we want to demonstrate to certain people that we care about them. As families expand into new generations, there are more and more people in our circle of care and responsibility. Put this in the context of changing membership, economics, travel, etc. and it becomes a mix that is sometimes hard to sort out.

Complicating things even more is the fact that Christmas is a time of heightened emotion for many people. It brings to the surface memories and sentiments that lie dormant much of the year. When this intensified sensitivity is the backdrop for often complex decisions about family gatherings, one has a formula pretty certain to cause pain, anger and/or frustration somewhere in the group.

In our idealization of Christmas with its charming crib scenes, delightful music, and Christmas card happiness I think we can easily overlook that love is often the source of much suffering. I think it was St.  Teresa of Avila who said to God: "If this is the way you treat your friends, no wonder you have so few!"
That baby in the crib stepped from eternal glory into a time-bound life with few faithful friends and pain beyond our understanding. He wanted to bring divine Love into our lives and make us brothers and sisters to each other, but the path was that of the cross.

Maybe our attempts to grapple with Christmas gatherings are, in a small way, reminders that real love carries a price tag that's rarely, if ever, discounted. When we think of the Christ Child as God's gift of infinite love, we need to remember that his cross and ours is hidden in that crib.

I'm glad I thought about this. It may help me be more patient as we try to figure out who's having Christmas this year and what are we doing about presents.

a KY monk

Frustration as a learning tool!

This has been one of those days / weeks / set of weeks where feeling swamped is common. Deadlines, goals, ideals, time contraints and other things are all in competition.  Frustration, fatigue, and puzzlement about what to tackle next  are all struggling for preeminence. What on earth can I learn from times like this?

Well, I'm going to take a pause in midst of it all and think about that.
1. I can be motivated to learn more patience -- with myself and with others.
2. I can re-learn that my way is not the only way to think about things.
3. I can be reminded that the first way of tackling a problem may not be the best way.
4. I can be forcibly pushed by my energy level to stop now and then and let my body and mind take a break.
5. I can experience once again that I'm neither invincible or perfect (as if I needed the reminder?!?!?!)

If I stayed at this longer, more lessons would likely come to mind, but I have to get back to the melee. I'll be hoping that at least some of these reminders linger and help me thru the tangle. God's Spirit is in it with me, I know. I'll try to be more receptive.

a ky monk

Can love be taught?

Tonight I was struck by a phrase from the first letter of St. John. It basically said that the reason we can love is because God loved us first.

This is a familiar quote, but for some reason, tonight it caught my ear. Is it true that a person cannot be taught to love? That he or she can only learn love by being loved? I tend to think there is a lot of truth in that.

How would I teach someone to love without demonstrating it by my example? I have a hard time imagining that learning real love is an academic exercise. No, instead, I think it's an exercise of giving. Through a parent, grandparent, another relative, a friend, even a pet -- someone or something shows us what it means to love. When we experience this, our own heart discovers a model for learning how to give itself to someone else.

The next step comes, I believe, when we learn that this love has its roots in God's boundless giving of Self to us. This infinite love takes in the entire human family, indeed all of creation. One can be taught this in theory, but only lived experience, I believe, lets us take it into ourselves and realize its meaning.

At least that's what struck me this evening.

a ky monk

After I wrote what I did yesterday about memory & its wonderful treasures, I had some second thoughts. All memories aren't treasures to be relished. Some carry only darkness -- painful, scarey, embarrassing, or tragic things from our past.

I've never really pondered why the chemisty and psychology of our minds hold on to our past. Why are some parts of of our personal history accessible at the merest suggestion and other parts buried so deep we can't get to them, if we even know they are there?

Professional psychologists may have answers to this question; I don't. I do know, however, that even a dark memory can sometimes be a gift. In this kind of memory I have seen parts of myself or other people that I wasn't aware of, and this insight has been a stepping stone to growth. For example, seeing new things about myself or others gives me new tools for developing or sustaining relationships. Then too, maybe I'll be more patient with myself or someone else; maybe I'll see something good I'd not been conscious of. Could all this be an example of the old truism: "It's always darkest before the dawn"?

a KY monk

Moon Thoughts from Memory's Treasure Chest

This morning I was walking up to the monastery in the dark; a bright light caught my eye. I looked up and there was the moon, a perfectly round, burnt orange disk stuck in the sky surrounded by blackness. Wow! It was so low over the city skyline it looked as if it could get caught in the trees or on the tip of a skyscraper. A breath-grabbing sight.

Then my mind started pulling out memories from my childhood, two in particular. One was one evening at home; I guess I was in grade school. I looked out the back door of our house up to the hill behind us and commented how pretty the moon was. My dad laughed and said, "That a porch light." (Obviously I didn't have my glasses on!!!!)

Another moon memory that emerged came from my freshman year in high school. That year I wrote a 2-line poem that has stuck with me ever since. I remember sharing it with my English teacher:
             I saw the moon a-leisure on through the cloud-filled sky,
             and stopped and thought within myself," What a God have I."

Isn't it fascinating where our mind can take us at the merest provocation? One thing, a gorgeous moon, brought back memories of home, a delightful father, school, and a great teacher. What treasures we carry around within us, just waiting to be relished at precious moments in our harried days or quiet nights. Something to be grateful for, right?

a KY monk

Listening as a Gift

Recently I was struck by the power of listening, and what a gift it is when you experience someone really listening to you.

I have often been called a good listener, and have found that to listen is to tune in to wonderful sources of wisdom. Over the years I've grown a lot from practicing this art, though I know at times I really fall short.

My recent experience, however, was to be on the receiving end of this gift. I was in a group engaged in casual but rather deep exchange.  Real listening was happening as passion, faith, and life experiences were being shared. We were finding kindred spirits in one another.

That's when I was struck (and that word is a good metaphor for what happened within me). I started to contribute something to the flow of conversation and everyone stopped talking, looked at me, and listened. What power that group action had on me! It was both an ego boost and a cautionary event. It made me realize two things: 1 - others were interested in finding out if I had anything of value to say; 2 - I'd better have something useful to say or I was wasting the precious moments that this group was sharing.

As I said, in the past people have called me a good listener, but after this experience I have a much deeper realization of what the act of listening can do for another. I've always looked at listening  primarily  as a tool; it can help accomplish many things both within and among individuals and groups. Now, however, this encounter showed me that in and of itself, being really listened to is a very special blessing. I hope I can grow in my ability to give this gift to others.

a KY monk

Halloween/All Saints' /Souls' Days Invite Self-examination

Halloween festivities in towns and cities around the country kick off a special two days of celebration in many Christian churches, namely All Saints Day Nov. 1 and All Souls Day Nov. 2 (Dia de los Muertos). The former, Nov. 1, commemorates those who have died and been officially recognized as Saints in the church. They are believed to be living in eternal glory with God and so are held up as models for the rest of us. The latter, Nov. 2, recalls all who have died but have not been proclaimed as remarkably holy.

I've always considered these days as 2 sides of the same coin. How does one really distinguish between people to be celebrated on Nov. 1 and those remembered on Nov. 2? I'm sure there are countless numbers who have died and are in heaven but who haven't been named by some official body as a "saint." Many of these "Nov. 2" people were considered saints by  folks who encountered them  on earth.

What struck me this year was how much variety there is in this community of the deceased who lived holy lives. Since God has no boundaries, heaven has to be this way.  There are people of all races, nationalities, cultures, personalities, lifestyles, ages & eras. Some were God-centered from childhood; others were self-indulgent sinners who experienced conversion later in life.

This mosaic that comprises God's heavenly dwelling creates a challenge for those of us still here and trying to live up to our Christian ideals. How comfortable are we with folks who seem to live outside what we consider appropriate? How readily do we give others credit for being seekers of good and truth when their path is far afield from our own? How married are we to our own ways of thinking about most things?

What the Catholic Church calls the "Communion of Saints" turns out to be a motley crew, and because God is everywhere, the eternal kingdom is not just in heaven; it's on earth as well. This means God has everyone under the divine wing, and this infinite variety of personalities and ways of thinking are a reflection of God's own life.

All this asks something hard of us. It demands we who are still working our way toward holiness try to stretch our vision and judgments. We who tend to be sure of our own ideas and methods are invited by this set of celebrations to open up to new possibilities. There are many expressions of the way to Godliness. I think the extreme variety of costumes on Halloween can truly be considered a sign of a much greater reality.

a KY monk

Are we all hypocrites?

Today's homily at mass stemmed from a gospel where Jesus called leaders of the Jewish community hypocrites. That sure is a tough word, and anyone who has ever had it directed at them knows how much it can hurt. It's like a needle or even a rapier that penetrates the ego we use as a protection.

Most of us, I guess, have some kind of mental titles or names we readily apply to ourselves -- friend, family member, teacher, .... but when today's homilist suggested the title "hypocrite" for each of us, that hit home. Was I willing to acknowledge that there was any hypocrisy in me? It's not a statement that I automatically accept as valid, and it's my guess that the same is true of most of us. A bit of soul searching, however, led me to some insight and made me remember what I wrote earlier this month about illusion.

It's hard to see ourselves as others see us. The same applies to things we do. How well do my externals match my interior life? I profess to live as a member of God's kingdom. How often do I act more like someone for whom the kingdom is tomorrow, not right now? When I immerse myself in contemporary life -- work, fun, media, politics --, what set of values do I put on the table? Do others see my interior life reflected in what I do or say? If there's no match, does that make me hypocritical?

I think we frequently judge the effectiveness of things we do by our own intentions in doing them, and so we can tend to give ourselves higher marks than we deserve. Maybe if we examine our lives for spots of potential hypocrisy, we'll find new areas for inner growth.

a KY monk

Friendship as a Gift

Yesterday I went to the visitation of a long ago friend. She was someone with whom I had developed a special bond 20+ years ago, but due to various circumstances, had not spent time with her since.

As I sat and watched the photos of  her life flashing on the screen in the funeral home, I found myself alternately smiling and tearing up. Here was a woman whose inner beauty and joy was a gift that touched many, and I was one of them.

The experience brought a number of things to mind:
- significant relationships don't really die, even though they seem to have passed us by as we moved through our life.  Somewhere within us is the reality that was shaped in that earlier time. It is there to influence us for better or for worse, depending upon how we tap into it;
- Occasionally we meet someone and sense an immediate kinship. Other times, however, a meeting doesn't give us any obvious clues about a future special  relationship. In both circumstances, however, there is the chance for something new to emerge. Both occasions demand an openness from us. In the first, we need to know if the connection is felt mutually, then explore ways to nurture it. In the second, we may need to look for the latent gifts that person brings with them. In any case, this newly formed connection between two people can, in its own way, strengthen bonds among many other human beings.
- Profound events like death and birth have a way of creating new paths between people. Stories thrive in these circumstances. Old connections are rediscovered and new ones uncovered. The bonds among humans are strengthened.

I'm grateful for yesterday's opportunity to quietly celebrate friends and family.

A KY monk

Musing about Illusions

The other day as I was working on a piece for our community's blog (http://stwalburg.blogspot.com/), I ran across a wonderful quote. First it was attributed to Oscar Wilde (it sounds like him), then I found a reference that said it came from Voltaire (That's even more believable; the Englishman probably borrowed it from the Frenchman.):
                            "Illusion is the first of all pleasures."

When I read it, my initial impression was that the word "first" meant natural or primary, and that struck me as quite true. Isn't illusion often an unconscious refuge when things are hard to face? It takes real effort to try to look at something when it's not what we want or expect to see.

I think that can be true when we look at ourselves. Have you ever noticed how easy it is, for example, to excuse ourselves when we slip up in our responsibilities? It's really easy to blame the situation or another person. Compare that with our reluctance to accept even the same excuse when it comes from another person who failed at something. It seems to me that we tend to give reasons a lot more credibility when they emanate from our own lips about our own actions than when someone else offers them about themselves.

This is where I see Voltaire's comment ringing true. When we judge our actions, we give ourselves the benefit of the doubt much more readily than we give it to others; it's easier for us to cut more slack for ourselves than we do for others.

In monastic life we take a vow of conversion. One way to describe this is that we daily keep working to become as fully Christ-like as we can. Because each of us humans has so many flaws, this is a life-long process. One thought to cherish is that God sees us and loves us, warts and all. Our challenge is to love ourselves and others the same way. To see ourselves as flawless is an unnecessary illusion; to see flaws as a tool for becoming a better human being and a stronger reflection of Christ is our challenge.

A Kentucky monk

Days of Jubilee

I haven't blogged in quite a while, but the events of last weekend were really unique. My community, family, and lots of friends came together to help me celebrate 50 years of monastic profession. Part of the celebration involved my giving a piano concert. I don't do this much, but for the occasion I was hoping to create a time and space where a variety of people I care about could meet and make new or refresh old connections. It worked!

Relatives who hadn't seen each other in a long time came together at something other than a funeral or wedding.  Community members, along with old and new friends, met some of my family for the first time, and vice versa.

One thing that gave me great pleasure was how much my immediate family enjoyed the music and ritual of our evening prayer where I renewed my vows. This was something I didn't really expect because it was so new to a number of them. 

Something that overwhelmed me was how many of my community members contributed extra time, effort, and energy to bringing everything to its peak. From cooks and bakers to dishwashers to furniture arrangers to pray-ers.... it was humbling. And my family noticed this high level of concern and care. They made a point of telling me how important it was for them to see this.

I'm in the process of writing thank you cards now, but there are so many people to thank, I'm afraid it will take a long time. I'm hoping that in the meantime they won't think I took for granted their contributions to the celebration. It was quite a weekend!

a KY monk