Junk Cars

So you've got a car. Is it the car you want? Maybe, maybe not. But it's the one you have, so make the most of it. You have your car and what do you do? You take care of it (well, some of us do, at least keep it mechanically sound). You are out there in the blazing sun washing and polishing your awesome car. You trade out the stock radio for a better one. You have good tires that you rotate and put that black stuff on. Maybe, there's even a little Yankee Candle air-freshener in there.

For many of us our car is at least partly a symbol of who we are. It's the thing that people see. It's probably the most expensive thing we have beside our house (though, this isn't always true). That car is like our life.

You've got your life, everyone alive has one. On the outside it may be perfect: not dents, no scratches. It's polished and clean. It's you, a sports car, a minivan, a pick-up, a luxury sedan, or a Jeep. It tells the world what you want them to know, or at least think, about you. As nice and well-kept and socially edifying as your car is it takes gasoline to run. Without gas the best car in the world is just pile of junk in the driveway. Without a fuel source, it is totally useless. Without gas that car cannot perform the only purpose it really has, to transport you. Without gas, we never get out of the driveway. We just sit there, being pretty.

Our life is the same. We can be wealthy, successful in our career, physically fit, but without our fuel, that is God, we are the useless pile of junk in the driveway. We are incapable of fulfilling the only purpose we have. What makes are car a car is the fuel and the engine, everything else is just fluff. What makes us "us" is our soul and God who fuels us, everything else is just fluff.

In the end, which do you prefer? Would you rather have a junk car with a full tank or luxury car that can't move? Is your heart concerned with getting where you want to be or sitting in the driveway hoping the neighbors notice how awesome you are?

Discipline

"Nothing that anyone says will be that important. The great thing is prayer; prayer itself. If you want a life of prayer, the way to get to it is by praying." Thomas Merton

The way it seems to go is this: We want to do something. Whatever it is. I'll use an example. I have learned that it would seem that the key to a more holy, more spiritual, more contemplative life is discipline. The Druids have a saying, "To discipline the body is to feed the spirit." This is actually common to most religious traditions, particularly those that have a contemplative bent to them. So, there. Discipline is key. Okay. So what I do next? I think about discipline and very quickly get nowhere. In the end I have more questions than answers. I go online and look up different monasteries and see what their daily schedule consists of, because that is a disciplined life made real. But then I say, "I'm not a monk." Then I may read several articles on spiritual discipline in the life of the laity. I will read books on the contemplative life. I will talk to my friends about the desire to become more disciplined. And, later, I will say, "I don't even really know what to do" and drop it for six months. The one thing that I never did was begin to discipline myself. The thing I never did was actually start a daily discipline. Even if it didn't work and I had to change it later, it's better than nothing. 

What Merton is saying in the quote above is very often we spend too much time and energy studying prayer, reading books on "how to pray" instead of just praying. We read more books about the bible than we read the bible. It's almost as if we are fearful of actually engaging. If I try to become more disciplined and fail, then I have failed (or so I would think) and my method is open for criticism. If I never move beyond study, well, I can't be criticized because I'm still working. I haven't actually started. In reality, I should do it. I should do it, and if it isn't working adjust, then it isn't failure, but a lesson. The true failure is in never beginning.

One more example, then I'm done: Recently I've been trying to learn Chinese-style brush painting, or in Japanese: Sumi-e. So what did I do? Asked my wife for a brush set for my birthday, to which she replied. "No. This will not be the next pull-up bar or half-built wooden surfboard in the garage." But, she said she'd get them if I finished all the stuff for the Art Show, which I did. Anyway, the point is when I decided I wanted to do the brush painting, the first thing I did was look for a set of brushes, instead of experimenting with what I have. Because I don't have brushes, I don't have to try to paint, it just wouldn't make sense. Next I looked up all sorts of articles on the philosophy behind brush painting. Again, I don't do it because I 'm not sure I fully grasp it. I'm not sure I understand it. Then (still having never picked up a brush) I started watching videos of brush painting to study technique. What I should have doing the whole time was painting. I should have been actually painting and learning at the same time. No matter how many books I read or videos I watch, until I actually pick up a brush, I haven't done anything and I don't know anything.

And the first stroke of the brush, no matter what the line looks like, is worth more than everything I've done to now. The first words of an honest prayer are worth more than all the books and seminars will ever be. Until I make the first stroke, or speak the first word, I haven't actually engaged. Once I'm engaged I become invested and it becomes real. Now I can really move forward and really learn.  

Face of Christ

The poster above is the show I'm getting stuff ready for. I'm also not done yet, but it's not until Saturday, so no worries. If you are able to make it, you won't be dissappointed (I hope). Gary will have some of his work there. You've seen it here, it's also below.

Another is my friend Jeff Montgomery at http://www.knifeartist.com/, a sample is below.

No, I'm not putting any of mine up. If you want to see it, come to the show. Otherwise, I may post it later. All-right, here's one: "Contemplation":



Very Nearly Everything

Two weeks. One week the computer was down and last week, well, I'm lazy. Actually, last week I gave a retreat to class of eighth-graders. It went well. And  now there are less than two weeks to an art show I'm supposed to have paintings ready for. Supposed to. All of this stuff combined with work and family creates a lot of stress, which I've no doubt is something we all experience in our own lives in our own way. But... everything can be a tool for growth. Coming face to face with our weaknesses helps us overcome them. What does it all come down to? What is at the bottom of all our stress and anxiety? Desire.

Desire. Desire causes most if not all of our stress and anxiety. I am stressed about the retreat because my desire is for the kids to enjoy it. I get anxious about my art because I desire that people like it. Most of this is rooted in a desire to be praised or acknowledged: wasn't that a wonderful retreat? Isn't that a beautiful painting?

In a broader sense desire creates most of our suffering and anxiety because it is self-inflicted. We are anxious (and therefore suffer) over finances because we bought things we can't afford. Why did we do that? Usually because our culture has told us we need "this" to be happy. Our desire causes us to suffer because we don't have something, or someone, or haven't reached some-place that we think holds the key to contentment. If we ever do relieve our suffering by coming to possess whatever it was that we suffered over so desperately, we find a new anxiety over keeping it. I suffer because I must have this house, in this neighborhood, with this car in driveway to be finally happy and fulfilled. But now I'm anxious because I have to work longer hours to pay for it. I feel trapped because I have to stay with this job no matter how bad it gets because I can't stand the loss of any income. Worse, now I worry that someone might steal what I've got, or that what I have isn't good enough anymore and the guys at the country club will look down on me.

Seeking the praise of men instead of the peace of God.

Learning to relinquish desire is a major component of Jesus' teachings. It is a major part of the Apostolic letters in the New Testament. It is the core of the Christian monastic life. Interestingly enough it also concerns three of the Buddha's "Four Noble Truths"*. We were not created to be anxious and worried. God did not design us to suffer over anxiety about material things. We create most of our suffering. As the Buddha teaches, our suffering is the result of our desire. You want to relieve your suffering and anxiety; relieve your desire.

It's not what you think, or maybe it is. It is the commandment against coveting our neighbor's wife or goods. It is the deadly sin of envy. It lack of trust in God when Jesus tells His disciples to go out into the world with the clothes on their back; to be like the birds or lilies, not worrying about it. The modern saint and mystic, Padre Pio, says, "Hope, pray, and don't worry." The way not to worry is to trust in God avoid cluttering your life with things that create anxiety.

*Just in case you were wondering: The Four Noble Truths:

1. Life is filled with suffering.
2. Suffering is caused by desire (or attachment).
3. To relieve suffering, one must relieve desire (or attachment).
4. To relieve desire, follow the Eight-Fold Path**

**Kidding. I'm not writing all that.

Perenial Problem

De-tachment. Non-attachment. Un-attachment. Probably the most misunderstood word(s) in our vocabulary. We misunderstand them because the concept is completely foriegn to our Western culture. We struggle with the concept because it is essential for spiritual growth but we don't even really know what it is. Our modern sensibilities tend to see anything with a prefix of de-, non-, or un-, as a negative. If you tell people you are seeking non-attachment or even worse asceticism it will immediately conjure images of a snobbish, bored, stoic indifference to life and people. The other image (usually for someone who has just enough information to get into trouble) is the image of a hermit that sleeps on the ground, is generally filthy, and probably hits himself with things.

In reality, non-attachment is positive and necessary. How so? Non-attachment is the loss of attachment to self-preoccupation. It is letting go of the mind-set that always finds a way to place "me" at the center of everything. "Me" is concerned with "me" first and you, him, it, or they second, if at all. "Me" is in love with himself and only cares about anyone or anything to the extent that they provide "me" with something. Most of this is sub-conscious and we don't realize we are doing it. This "me" is one that complains about having to stand in line at the store, because, "Why should I have to stand here? I'm too important to wait in line."  It's also the "me" that loves my wife/kids/friends/boss/etc. when they are doing or acting the way I want them to but hate them when they aren't. Very often our ability to love another person is based on that person's ability to provide something we want. Even worse, our love for another is dependent on our imagined idea of what that person should be and when they inevitably fail, our love fails too.

In a silly way, this is the male mid-life crisis where he gets a divorce, buys a Corvette, pierces his ear, and starts dating a college sophomore. There are two things happening here: he is attached to an imagined image of himself and his life, when he realizes that image and reality don't match, he quits, gives, up, doesn't love himself anymore. He does the same to his wife; he had an imagined idea of what his wife should be and when he wakes up and realizes she isn't twenty-three anymore, his image fails and so his love for her fails. Because of his attachment he can't see past the fact that he-himself, his life, and his wife don't "provide" for him they way he imagines they should, so he can't love them and seeks new ones that fit the imagination. Again, the problem being, the new girlfriend won't stay young, the new car has to be paid for, and he still doesn't have a six-pack stomach. As long as he is attached to what people provide he will always be miserable. I'm sure you can think of a hundred other examples of this in our culture from entertainment to plastic surgery to greed and crime. 

If we were to learn non-attachment to what people are and focus on who they are we will have a long way in understanding Christ's command to love your neighbor as yourself. Non-attachment does not mean I no longer love my wife and kids because I'm "above that now". In reality it means that free from self-preoccupation I am truly free to love them. I am able to love them for who they are instead of what they can do for me. But it has to extend beyond my family and to my neighbor and to God. I have to become unattached to God, that is the God of my own image. I have to love God for who He is not what I imagine Him to be or want Him to be.

Blades of Grass

"If we study Japanese Art, we see a man who is undoubtedly wise, philosophic and intelligent, who spends his time doing what? In studying the distance between the earth and moon? No. In studying Bismark's policy? No. He studies a single blade of grass."  
  -- Vincent Van Gogh

In a fit of stupidity I agreed (several months ago) to participate in an art show. The show is on June 5. As of right now I'm about 3/4 finished with the second of five pieces we're supposed to provide. My primary discipline is painting, and I use acryllics, so I can't even say that I have to wait for the paint to dry and that's what is taking so long. I do have an innate tendency to paint things that are complicated, or very detailed (as a euphemism). Lately, though, I find myself drawn to simpler style. I also find that I enjoy a simpler style. 

The more contemplative my spirituality becomes I notice a tension between it and daily life. Of course, this shouldn't be. Hopefully it's just growing pains. The tension is that a contemplative life demands simplicity and our modern Western culture is anything but. Interiorly there is a longing to simplify the exterior in the same way that the interior simplifies.

When I say "simple" I don't mean "dumbed-down". I mean "essential". To simplify our lives means to get down to the essence of what life is, of what life is about. St. Augustine once said, "Love God, and do what you will." This is a terribly misunderstood and ill-used quote. It doesn't mean pay lip-service to God and then do whatever you want. It means that if you truly love God and order your life toward that love; then do what you will, because it is done in the context of Love of God. In this sense life suddenly becomes very simple. All the things our culture has reared us to worry about can fall away. They can fall because they don't matter, they never did.  

What does this have to do with Asian brush painting or blades of grass? Go back to the top and read the Van Gogh quote again. It's about how we clutter our lives with so many concerns that we don't notice the essence of what we are trying to depict. In the Taoist and Buddhist traditions harmony with nature is paramount, so the artist who is trying to depict nature studies nature. He doesn't just study nature, he contemplates the essence of nature. Anything that distracts him falls away as unimportant. In the Christian tradition we also want a harmony with creation but this comes from being united to God through Christ in the Holy Spirit. Anything that distracts us needs to fall away. We are trying to capture the essence of Christ in our lifes. We are trying to depict Christ in our lives, by our lives. This is what Van Gogh is getting at (well, maybe, but probably not).

The Buddhist painter contemplates the blade of grass in an effort to know the essence of that blade so that when he paints it one brush stroke tells us more about the grass than an entire book on horticulture. He is not trying to mimic the grass, he is trying to depict the grass: huge difference. 

The Christian contemplates the mysteries of Christ. He contemplates so that he becomes that single brush stroke. Our effort is not to mimic Christ, that is only surface, it's fake. We want to depict Him. In our lives we want to breathe the very essence of Christ; "Your will be done..." To do this we have to strip away the fascade and get to Who Christ is, not what we want Him to be or imagine Him to be to satiate our (to copy a new term) "therapudic deism". We want the brush stroke to be so complete in its understanding that in a single stroke is contained the will of God.       

Dawn Patrol

Getting up earlier than I get up for work. Not getting enough breakfast. Not getting enough coffee. Yet, somehow, it still feels like I won.

The dawn patrol is an ancient surfing phenomena where a person will get up way too early in an effort to catch the first wave of the day, with the rising sun. This practice usually results in being damp, smelly, and exhausted for the rest of the day. Also, probably late for work. Strangely enough, though I was late, no one seemed to notice. I don't know if that should bother me or not.

Going on a dawn patrol is part of what makes a surfer. There are many people that surf. Then there are surfers. It isn't about being first or catching the first wave or anything like that. It is more about being present. Surfing early in the morning is like a secret that is shared between you and the waves. While the world is still sleeping, you are surfing.

In the Christian life meditation and the moments of contemplation that come from it are the dawn patrol of the spiritual life. Meditation is waiting on the wave and contemplation is surfing. Mediation is first of all a self-denial; it the denial of the all-important "time" in the Western world. Even worse than wasting time, from an American view meditation commits the ultimate sin; being unproductive. Even more, meditation, if it leads to contemplation, creates a sense of the coming sunrise. It tells us that this is only the very beginning of new day.

I said that surfing in the morning is like a secret shared between you and the waves. Contemplation is a secret shared between you and God. The secret is (are you ready): Here I AM. Was that disappointing? I don't think so. In fact I think the opposite. The secret is that it's not a secret, anymore than it's a secret that there are waves in the morning. So why a secret? Again, like the waves, you have to be present. Everybody knows the waves are there, but they are asleep. If not asleep; busy. We are too busy, too distracted, too productive. We are too busy planning our future that we aren't here for the present. The secret that the Father whispers to His children is only a secret because we aren't listening. We don't have time to listen. No, we won't make time to listen.   

Though the culture may see you as wasting your time, being unproductive, and uselessly denying yourself; you know it's worth it. You know it's worth it because you share the secret; even if only for a moment. No matter what the world thinks, in the end, you know that while they were sleeping you were surfing.

Look at Me!

"Contemplation is nothing else than a secret, peaceful, and loving infusion of God, which if admitted, will set the soul on fire with the Spirit of love."

St. John of the Cross

There is a difference between a person who is religious and a person who is in possession of a spirituality. Before we go any further, I absolutely do not mean those people who utter one of the more stupid statements found in the modern world, "I'm spiritual but not religious". If you want to know why this is so stupid, please say so and I'll elaborate but that's not the point today.

You can be both religious and spiritual or you can be religious. What I mean here by religious is the very basic definition of one who adheres to a religion. In a bigger sense, this means a person who participates in the life of their religion. A religious person goes to church, or synagogue, or temple, or whatever. For our purposes I'll continue the example using Christianity. A religious person attends church (religiously). They tithe. They attend the church's functions. They even serve on things like councils and committees. Very often they are willing to take on leadership positions that have great demands on their time and talents. So... what's the problem? 

If a person is purely religious their piety is external. In other words, it's all for show. There are a couple of reason why this may be. The first is the "Checked-Box Religious" that sees their faith as a series of hurdles to be overcome. They want to make sure their card is punched. They treat God like a cosmic vending machine, "I put in my money, now You have to give me heaven". This is where some people get the idea (the wrong idea) that Catholics believe they can earn their way to heaven by doing good works. Basically, God is an accountant and you have to make sure your balance sheet adds up. 
The second reason is pure self-interest. They wear a thin veil of piety but in reality it's all about them and their ego. This person does all that they do in an effort to be recognized by the population. This is also the type that takes on many projects and then complains (which code for fishing-for-compliments) about all the work they do and all the time they spend at the church, etc.
The common thread running through both is that the outward signs all point to a holy life, on the inside there is no real love of God. 

However, to have a spiritual life implies a religious life. The spiritual life is the interior. Who we are or what we have on the interior is ultimately manifested in our exterior life, which is why I said one can be spiritual and religious; meaning one will certainly have the an exterior manifestation of the interior life. The interior life is what enables us to be religious even when there is no consolation. We are religious because we are spiritual, or we engage in the externals because of the internal. If a person loves God they will also love their neighbor. If a person loves God they will do good works. 

The externals that make up the religious part of our lives are only worth-while to the extent that they provide for continuing interior conversion. It doesn't matter how many rosaries you say if it is a mere mechanical action. What makes prayer "prayer" is the elevation of the heart and mind to God, not a recitation of words. A person is made holy by uniting their will to God's, not by serving on councils. A person who has a deep spirituality certainly may (and probably will) serve the community but they do it because they love God and their neighbor not because they are going to get a plaque or a mention at mass by the pastor. 

That being said, the interior life comes first. You can't help fix your neighbor's house when yours is crumbling. If our exterior life is impeding our interior life we need to step back, or step down, or whatever. If we have taken on so many pious "duties" that we have no time or inclination to actual piety, it's time to reevaluate. God is not an accountant, He is our Father. He doesn't want your balance sheet, He wants your heart.    

Shed the Wetsuit

The Gulf Coast took a moment in silent prayer over the last week. The water temperature is back over 70 degrees. For all the non-surfers; this is huge. The last few months have been a harrowing ordeal of swimming around in frigid water in skin-tight neoprene looking like something in between a B-movie Space Ranger and one of those yoga instructors that wear the unitards. Well, as of this week, they go back into storage until December.

Wetsuit, wetsuit, why do hate you so? You are tight and uncomfortable. You are constricting and have a seam in all the wrong places. You fill your cells with frigid water that no only sucks the life from me so that my body hovers 1/2 a degree from hypothermia, but you also add several pounds of dead weight and at my age it ALL counts.

However, it's more than that. Shedding the wetsuit is more than getting rid of a piece of uncomfortable clothing. It's the shedding of a false self. It is getting rid of a man-made skin that separates you from fully engaging the wave. Essentially, it's a barrier. There is nothing like the feeling of a wave washing over bare skin. There is nothing like the feeling of the warm sun on your shoulders after being washed by cool water. And there is also nothing like the feeling of the salt rubbing on your slightly sunburned back, and you know it absolutely worth it.

The wetsuit is our ego. It is a barrier, a false barrier, that prevents us from true intimacy with the wave. Our ego is false self that acts as a barrier to true intimacy with God and each other. Just as the wetsuit is a self-imposed isolation that keeps the water out (and keeps us stewing in our own filth), so does our ego isolate us from true surrender to the love of God and the love that we are called to extend to each of our brothers and sisters. So long as we insist on presenting a false self to the world we can never actually find intimacy with another person, we aren't really invested. We are always holding something back.

This Lent, my challenge to myself is to shed the spiritual wetsuit. My goal is remove the barriers that I have set up to protect a fragile ego that really isn't worth protecting. The potential is to be an walking, talking, moving, breathing manifestation of the Love of God. The reality is that so long as I cling to my ego I am only a manifestation of love of myself.

Vacation

No post this week. I'm on vacation and that means vacation from everything except surf (and apparently yard work).

Teacher, Teacher...

We all remember with fondness (or lack of) elementary school. I'm sure we remember that there were, and still are, subjects that we seem to understand better that others. Because of our background; that is our childhood, our education, our environment, and our own innate capabilities we have a slightly nuanced approach to life.

Back to grade-school: I am a teacher with a class of twenty students (all you teachers out there, stop rolling your eyes, I know it should really be about 35 students but only 28 desks and 25 books) and I am teaching them basic algebra. First, it must be assumed that if I am teaching algebra I know algebra (again, teacher stop laughing) and I'm not just making it up as I go. Again, not only must I know algebra but know it well enough to spot mistakes and teach it. But here's the problem: as stated above, everyone of those twenty students is different. I can teach algebra to the class. The entire class got the same lecture, same examples, same worksheets, same everything. So why do some excel, some fail, and some inhabit that squishy middle section we call "average"?

There will be a certain percentage that will immediately grasp the concepts, will excel, and will move on to higher math with little interference. Albeit this is a very small percentage. Then there is the opposite end of the spectrum that is also a small percentage of those who will fail. There are many questions that arise when you have some excelling and others failing. Finally, there is that large middle-range of those who are not excelling or failing but muddling through. Let's take each in turn:

Those who excel: Are they born smarter than the others? Probably not. I'm not aware of any scientific test that can be performed to distinguishes two normal human brains and determine one is smart and the other dumb. Is it environment? Did the parents or previous teachers provide an environment that nurtured the development of engagement with regards to academic study? Is it possible that they have a personality that inclines them to pay attention better? It's not that they are any smarter, they just listen. Instead of playing with their shoes or drawing on their worksheet they are actively engaged in the lesson. However the understanding occurs; it does, in a tangible and demonstrable way.

Those who fail: Again, are they born dumber than the others? And again, probably not. However, study after study has shown that if parents do not value education and create and environment that encourages exploration and the desire to learn, the children have a high risk of academic failure, or struggle at the very least. This is not to say that a kid raised by parents who have no education and don't care about education and even ridicule a child attempting an education won't excel, just that the odds are not in his favor. There is another factor here. The kid could come from a very different background than one that is anti-intellectual, in fact the opposite. The background could be one of entitlement and expectation (on the kid's part). If the child is raised in such a way that they are given all they desire without any expectation on their part, what are they learning? Why should I bother to learn, I get whatever I want whether I know this or not, whether I get good grades or not. It's not that the child has the cards stacked against him or that he is antithetical to learning, he just doesn't care, because he doesn't have to. These are the kids who are playing with their shoe-strings and drawing on their worksheets. And, again, this is shown in a very tangible way: lack of understanding.

Then there is the middle: these are the kids that represent most of us. They somewhat get get. They try. They get get some right, some wrong, but ultimately it prove that they have a working understanding but not a spectacular showing. In other words; they are average.

In end, however, what cannot be said is that it's the teacher's fault. All the students were presented with the same material that of an appropriate level as their grade suggests. All were given the same opportunity to see examples, to ask questions, etc. The difference is the student. Some will hang on the teacher's every word, internalizing the lesson so that it becomes ingrained in them and algebra becomes second-nature. Others will listen as best they can, and will for the most part get it. They will make many, many mistakes, but they genuinely want to learn. If the don't succeed by natural ability they will succeed by perseverence. Then there are the those who don't listen, don't care, and will not learn. They will not learn, not because they can't but becasue they won't. They would rather sleep, pass notes, whatever. And in the end, they will fail.

We are all given the same lecture. Granted, we all come with different burderns. It will be easy for some and incredibly difficult for others. However, ultimately, it is our choice. It is each of us that excel or fail or waver in mediocrity. It's not our parents, our environment, or anything but us. So what are we doing. Are we listening intently or playing with our shoes-string?

Fight the Good Fight

I don't know why (probably because I'm teaching a class on the Book of Job), but I've been thinking a lot about evil and the nature of, well, bad things that happen. Before I go any further I want to say that Job is not a book about evil. It is about the theological implications of suffering and how that relates to God and man. I simply said; it got me thinking about evil. I suppose we could argue that suffering is evil, if we were so inclined, but I don't think that is a very strong position. I was more thinking about the existence of evil and how there are many people who use the tangible reality of evil to claim God does not exist. So I'll do a few things in this short post: First, we should define evil. Then, just to clear it up, I'll demonstrate why I think it is erroneous to lump suffering (general) in with evil. Finally, in a very brief way, I hope to show that the reality of evil does not disprove God rather it acts as evidence for Him.

So, evil: the opposite or absence of good. Physical evil (like natural disasters, illness, etc.) is the result of being "en route" in a fallen world towards perfection in God where the possibility must exist for the less-perfect to be alongside the more-perfect. Moral evil is the free choice to sin, that is the freedom to act against God and thus against perfection. This evil is permitted to allow for and to respect free-will. (Catechism of the Catholic Church).

Why don't I think all suffering should be lumped in with evil? I'll have to break suffering down. The first reason is that when people speak of suffering (when rendering it evil) are talking about physical suffering. Here I mean physical as opposed to spiritual, not as opposed to mental; many mental sufferings have a physical cause and are treatable through physical means. Some not all of our physical sufferings aren't even sufferings at all because we intend them; like soreness after exercise or the pain from vaccinations, etc. Self-inflicted suffering for a good cannot be evil. Then there is the other self-inflicted suffering; the unintentional. This is the suffering that we bring on ourselves though mis-calculation (like, say, a sports injury). I certainly could not maintain with any theological certainty that because I hit myself with my surfboard trying to do a trick I never should have tried that God does not exist, or that what happened is evil. Then there is the self-inflicted suffering that that is unintentional but is a result of abuse of freedom, like the suffering that comes from drug abuse. Of course, there is always the unintentional, not self-inflicted suffering. This type is easier to regard as evil, given the definition above.

Unintentional suffering that is not self inflicted is the closest variation that we can really call evil. The famous atheist of the early 20th century Bertrand Russell once commented that a telling a child who is dying in a hospital bed that God loves him and he is going to heaven is not really any consolation at all. True. But what can an atheist like Russell say to that same child, "Sucks to be you"? If evil is the absence of good several implications are made. The most important being that when something is declared evil it implies that there is some objective, universal thing we call "good" that it is being measured against. For Christians, and most other theists, this objective and universal good we would call God, or at the very least an attribute of God. Essentially, for evil to exist it's opposite must exist, and that is God. This is because evil in-and-of itself is nothing, it is only the absence of good. Think darkness. Darkness is nothing. Darkness is only the absence of light. Darkness can only exist where light is not. They are not equals. Light always conquers dark. So, one more time, evil is nothing, it is the absence of good. Evil can only exist where good is not.

The other implication is the problem. If there is a universal, objective good that we measure evil against, then we must concede that there are absolute truths. If something is good it is always good. Evil is always evil. If not, we have nothing. If there is no objective, unchanging good then all this talk about good and evil is pointless. If good and evil are constructs of my own mind then they are just as meaningless as any other construct of my mind and only bear any weight so far as I can force others to follow them. If you and I are allowed to differ greatly on what we consider good and evil then the idea and the term are arbitrary. If they are arbitrary, they are nothing. I hope you catch where this must logically follow.

If there is no objective good then there is no objective evil. On the surface this may not sound bad. What it really means is that all of life boils down to different strokes for different folks. Again, not so bad, until my strokes and your strokes are in disagreement. Then it comes down to contest of strength: might makes right. Hitler wasn't really evil, he just had a different idea of good than we do and he had the power to institute his view of life, but we can't say that he is evil, that would be forcing our morals on him, and that's not right. But wait, the idea that it's not right to force your moral view on others is statement of objectivity. So if I think it's right to force a morality and you think it's wrong, you can't tell me I'm wrong, that would be asserting an objective morality. In the end, we have to either admit that absolutes and objective good exists and evil is the absence or opposite of that good, or we must jettison the whole idea of good and evil and start our new life in the Thunderdome.

Either God exists, or evil does not.       

Mistaken Identity

I think was Archbishop Fulton Sheen that said, "Atheists are not atheists because they don't want to believe in God, they are atheists because they don't want to believe in sin."

We just don't want to acknowledge that there is a claim on our lives. Our culture has gone so far as to try and have it both ways; have our cake and eat it too, if you will. We have concocted denominations and religions that seek to deny sin. In this way we can have all the comforts of God without having to actually do anything. In essence, we want Christ but without all that gruesome cross business. We want freedom without responsibility. If this mentality were expressed in any form other than religion we would say a person was childish or immature. Because it is spirituality we excuse it. We are in a state of spiritual arrested development; the Peter Pan Syndrome of the celestial realm.

Let's say you've got a friend who got a job by making all sorts of promises to his employer about the things he was going to do and then made his agreement to show up and fulfill his duties to the best of his ability. Not too long and he starts showing up late and when he gets there he doesn't do anything. Eventually, he hardly ever even shows up, does no work, and even talk bad about his boss and company to others. And the kicker, he fully expects the company to continue to pay him. He would raise hell if they told him he was fired. That's our cultural spirituality: childish and immature. We expect our pay even though we don't do anything. It's not that I'm a bad employee, it's that the boss is a jerk.

Imagine a how a child operates. Why did you get punished? Is because you did something wrong? No, it's because Dad is mean. But why did Dad get mad in the first place? Is because you disobeyed? Perhaps on the surface, but there (hopefully) is something deeper. When I tell my 3-yr old not to touch the hot stove I don't explain the physics of heat transfer and what effect high temperatures have on human tissue; she wouldn't understand. But she does understand "Don't touch the stove; it will hurt you". As she matures she come to understand why and how the stove can hurt her. If she continues to try to touch the lit stove I don't say "Well as long as you believe that it won't hurt you...". I tell her she will will get a time-out (I feel stupid just typing that). She isn't punished because I'm mean. She is punished because her safety and future happiness depend (in part) to her learning that a hot stove will burn you, so don't touch it. In raising a child, freedom without responsibility would get you a dead child pretty quick.

So why do we get so upset at the idea that God has set out directions for life that He expects us to follow? Shouldn't we give Him the benefit of the doubt that, like the stove, we are a spiritual 3-yr old and He is trying to keep us from killing ourselves (our souls)? And, maybe when we mature, we come to understand why. We mature by accepting responsibility, not by shirking it or running from it. We mature by drawing nearer to Truth.

Crazy is as Crazy does

A friend of mine who will remain nameless (Bruce) convinced me to finally submit my paperwork to the Veteran's Administration. He lured me into it with the American Dream: money for nothing. I was assured that I'd get something for my hearing (I was a machine-gunner), something for my shoulder (6 dislocations reset by the corpsman in the field), and I should be up for some PTSD compensation. Now, I haven't got my appointment yet, so I don't know what, if anything, they'll actually award. I also want to say I don't think I suffer from PTSD and I don't want to diminish in any way those who truly do.

Anyway, I asked my friend how he knew I'd get some crazy money. I asked if I should say or do anything in particular to make sure the doctor noticed my mental state. He said, "No. Just go in there and be yourself. As soon as you open your mouth they'll know something is wrong." As much as I'm sure he was joking (I hope), for a moment I wondered if there is something going on up there. Here's the issue: If I were crazy, would I know it? Bruce is crazy. Should I take him seriously if he questions my sanity, or is it a question of "takes one to know one"? Like I said, I don't feel crazy. But if I am, would I notice it anyway? Would I think I'm perfectly sane and it's everyone else that's crazy? 

Then I thought about people like St. Francis and St. Thomas Aquinas. The people that knew St. Francis thought he was either a saint or a lunatic. Perhaps there is a fine line there (another discussion for another time). History proved him to be a saint. St. Thomas' contemporaries believed he was an idiot. In fact they called him the "Dumb Ox" and he turned out to be one of the most respected and repeated philosophers and theologians of all time. Let's just say that Caravaggio never created paintings of the people that called St. Thomas dumb. Before I go further, just to clear it up, I'm not simply talking about a cult of personality. Yes, there are many people that history remembers and that doesn't make them sane or saints.

The question is whether or not we should be worried if the world doesn't think we're all there. After all, the Jews of the Old Testament and those in the time of Jesus measured a person's sanity by the extent that they were or were not seeking the will of God. This meant primarily the person's observance of the law. For the Greeks, the sane person was the one who exemplified the life of virtue, or those whose lives came closest to conforming to the objective good. For Christians it is basically the same as the ancient Jews. We are sane to the extent that we are conformed to the will of God. If God is Truth, the sane person is the one whose life conforms to that Truth. This is also the point of Lao Tzu's Tao Te Ching; that true peace, contentment, and goodness or virtue comes from being in harmony with truth. For the sake of argument, let's say this is true.

I think it's safe to say that most of the world is and probably always has been a considerable distance away from the Truth. We all fall short of the perfection of God, but there are and have been those who are not just "falling short" but who are in active rebellion against Truth. The ones who have, in Jesus' words, traded the truth for lie. We are constantly bombarded with this. If only I were thinner I would be happy. If only I were younger (or at least looked younger) I would be happy. If only I had (insert item here) my life would be complete. We fall into this consumer mentality only to have our contentment blasted when the thing that was supposed to make us happy fails or is replaced by a newer model that we don't have. That's crazy. It's absolutely insane that a material good should have that kind of control over our mental well-being.

Okay, so the world is, for the most part, insane. It's insane because it has rejected truth. All of us are a little crazy. There is a spectrum of sanity and some are more sane, some are more crazy. The crazier we are the more crazy seems normal. The crazier we are the more sane seems crazy. And course, the opposite is true. The more sane you are the more you notice insanity in its varying degrees. Since the world is almost entirely populated by crazy people, crazy seems normal and sane seems crazy. So I guess in the eyes of the world, I would want to be crazy. I would want people to think my family is odd and out-of-touch. I suppose the best compliment I could get would be a condescending smile or a shocked sneer.

The question we need to ask is where we fall on the spectrum of sanity. How do you view the world? That should be a pretty good indication.    

Fresh Air

Here's an analogy for you. Let's say we are inside our house. Our interior self, our soul, is the inside of our house. God is the outside. He is all of the outside: the air, the trees, the grass, the sun; everything.

I guess the first thing we notice is that God is way bigger than we are. In fact, our house represents a very shallow false sense of security (anyone that's been through a hurricane knows this well). As sturdy as our house may be, one good gust of wind can rip it open. That's not even to mention all the things that can go wrong and destroy our fragile home from the inside.

The big idea here is simple: we can (to some extent) control what comes into our house. We are the ones who decide how much and for how long we accept what is going on outside. While the outside is much stronger and much bigger than our little home for the most part it is pretty docile. We have options. We can choose to open the windows as wide as they'll go and let the outside in. If the windows are open long enough the inside and outside take on the same character; actually, the inside becomes the outside. Never the other way around. We can flood the house with the fresh air and smells and sounds that are all around us, all the time, we just never heard them because the windows were closed.

We also have the option (which is probably where most of us are) of opening the windows but putting in screens. Why screens? We want to filter what comes in. We have decided that we don't want certain things coming through the open windows so we construct a device to filter them out. The problem though, no matter how minute it may seem the screen is a barrier. It obstructs the air, it clouds the view. In essence the screen enacts our prejudice. It becomes the tool that lets in what we like, what we will accept, and keep the rest out. With the screens we will get some experience of the outside but we are missing something. We lack the total immersion.

Of course the other option is to close the window entirely. Let in none of the outside world. We can create a cocoon. Instead of moving in harmony with the ebb and flow of the breeze we set the thermostat. In this analogy our central a/c becomes our attempt to create God in our image. We build a contraption, build a control for it, and then barricade our hearts in a prison of our own making, convincing ourselves that we've created a man-made paradise of material goods, conditioned and filtered air, with locks on the doors and windows to ensure nothing gets in (or out?). Then we turn on devices that make noise so we don't have to hear what's going on outside. If we don't hear Him because we've created our own world full of concocted noise, we can pretend He's not there. To carry on a little further, how silly that we do everything in the world to shut ourselves off from the outside and then buy a white noise machine to mimic the outside (Deepak Chopra, anyone?).

Our self-created world works only until something happens, like a hurricane. Then we realize just how fragile and fake it all was. We need to let in the fresh air and listen to the outside noises. We need to feel the slight temperature fluctuations. We need to accept God as He is, unfiltered.   

I Want To, But Not Really

I don't remember who said it and it really doesn't matter. If a saying is good, it stands on its own, not on the back the mouth that uttered it. If I were really confused I might think I said it, but I'm not and I didn't:

"The only reason you are not a saint is because you do not wholly want to be."

I know I didn't say that because I never say "wholly". It was probably G.K Chesterton. He was very British and the quote sounds very British. Regardless, it stands. It stands because the wisdom exists no matter who said it. It says that the only reason we can really give for not becoming the person God created us to be is that we don't want to be that person. We live under the misconception that we know better than anyone else, including God how to live to our fullest potential.

Just a side note: Do you think it's odd that we think we know how to make ourselves happy and well-adjusted but we buy self-help books written by someone else to tell us how to do it? Essentially, we say, "I know how to be happy: do what this This Guy says!" and call ourselves "free thinkers".

Back to saints and our laziness. I will stop saying "our" and go to "my" so I'm not speaking for anyone else. I realized the other day that the quote is true. At any moment there are a dozen things that I could be doing. What do I choose? I complain that I don't have time to meditate; what with the kids and house and work. As I sit in the chair flipping through Netflix (which is instantly available, meaning I can watch it at any time, it doesn't have to be now) I think, "The kids are asleep. It's only 8 o'clock. And my wife is putting her laundry away upstairs. I could probably use this time to to meditate." No sooner than that thought entered my mind another thought entered, "Endless Summer in HD! I better watch that!" The point: I could have easily turned off the TV and spent some time in meditation. It's not like I wouldn't have been able to watch TV later. So there is no reason for me not to pursue union with God. No reason that I can't be in prayer or meditation. I simply choose not to do it. I had the thought, and that's the worst. I knew what I ought to do. I knew what I really wanted to do, but as my lifeguard friend once said, "In most people laziness overrides the desire to be happy". I can say with near certainty that in my case this is true. I really do want to move closer to God, right?

So what is the cause of this spiritual laziness? Or even worse, some sort of American self-denial where I will deny my soul while gorging my physical appetites. Much of this attitude is probably related to a desire to be accepted. I want society to accept me. Oddly enough, this is the same society that in many ways I can't stand. I can't stand it for the same reasons that I want to be accepted by it. Our culture says that we are supposed to watch TV, otherwise how will I know what I'm supposed to think and buy. Our culture does not encourage silence and meditation. Our culture does not like people who would rather do-without. I have heard many times the TV described as the "Demon in the Corner".

In a more practical sense, ask yourself why you enjoy (maybe?) going on vacation to place that doesn't have a TV, or cell-phones, or Internet and we call this "relaxing" and say things like, "I wish I could live like this" as we lay on the beach or sit on a mountain. But... we go home and immediately plop down on the couch and turn on the TV or get in front of the computer and see if anyone missed us. How much money do Americans spend going to weekend spas where they sleep on the floor, do yoga, and meditate? Yet we go home talking about how great that weekend/retreat/vacation was and fall right back into old habits. So back to the quote. We could change all of this today. It seems that we really don't want to.

We don't want to because it means action. Even sitting in silence and meditation is not really passive. It's like a diet or exercise program; at first it really sucks and you're tempted to just forget it. But after a few days or weeks it not only becomes easier and more tolerable but you begin to see the difference it's making and you can't imagine going back to way you were. I'm going to illustrate this in a very simple way using the analogy our Teacher used:

Jesus said, "My yoke is easy and my burden is light." Simple enough. This is the hard part though. What Jesus is saying is that if you want to come with Him, you must put His yoke across your shoulders. That's difficult for us. If you've ever seen a yoke you know it is a large, cumbersome piece of wood designed to rest across your shoulders so you can carry heavy loads that dangle from ends. If you saw the yoke laying on the ground you would say, "That looks really heavy and carrying it any distance would just be awful." If you can get past your initial shock at what's being asked and actually pick up the yoke, Jesus says we'll realize that it isn't heavy at all, but you'll never know until you put it on. That is what Chesterton (I've decided) meant. There is something holding us back. There is something about picking up that yoke that scares us. Even though all of our education and experience tells us it will be great, sitting there, on the ground, it just looks so heavy. We don't pick it up because we don't really want to.

We are too lazy to be happy. 

Eternal Vigilance

Last Friday, New Year's Eve, me, my brother, our friend Garret, and about ten other guys (and some girls) stood stoically on the beach patiently waiting on the wind to shift. It was a period of hopeful anticipation. The promise was one of a coming cool-front that would turn the winds offshore and shape the waves for the most epic day of the season. Three o'clock, they said. That's when the front would hit. So we all stood there, staring through the sea-fog and watched the waves, waiting for that moment when the foam would start to be blown off the top, signifying the switch.

Sunday was the Feast of the Epiphany, celebrating the arrival of the magi in Bethlehem. If I were smarter I would have thought about the connection as we waited on the winds. I would have have thought about how we were like those magi, led to the beach on a promise but still not really knowing what we would find when we got there. I would have thought about how they followed a star the same way I'm following the palms, watching to see if there is a change in the direction they're blowing. I would have thought about these guys trekking across hundreds of miles of desert to go to a backwater town in a backwater Roman province. I might have made the connection when my brother said, "Let's just get in. That way we'll already be out there when it shifts. We can be first." Now, I must admit, that's not exactly what he said, I cleaned it up a lot. But the thought stands: to go into the unknown, to be first, to be willing to risk the chop and the rip-tide to get the first waves. To have your place before the others realize they need to paddle out.

Because I'm not smarter, I made no such connection. Instead I ran around on the beach like a child, cursed the wind for not shifting, damned the fog for being so foggy, and made fun of the way my friends looked in their wetsuits. When my brother insisted that we paddle out, I did go. The water was cold (or should I say, the water is cold) and it would have been very easy to make up an excuse to go in. After all, the wind was still blowing on-shore and the fog was holding on pretty good. But I went anyway. And, yes, we were the the only three out. And even though nothing had changed to create the epic day we were all hoping for, the waves were still big and not too choppy. We were able to surf all we wanted while everyone else waited on the beach. I know what you're thinking, yeah, but when the wind does turn you'll be too tired to surf. No, you're wrong. Because, as darkness started to fall, the wind still hadn't shifted. If we had waited, we wouldn't have surfed at all. If we had sat there, waiting on a perfect certainty, we never would have left the beach.