Spiritually pwned

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Several years ago, while I still aspired to be a theology scholar, I was in the midst of finals. This is a stressful time. With papers to complete, and exams to prepare for, there are many opportunities to practice being anxious and overwhelmed. I knew that my perfectionism lay behind much of my stress. If I hadn't been so worried to produce a perfect piece of writing, or ace an exam, I would be far more relaxed.

I was speaking about this with someone I had recently met, wallowing in the self-pity and drama of the finals season. I mentioned that I wanted to stop being a perfectionist but didn't know how. 

"Do you know what I do when I'm acting like a perfectionist?" he asked me.

"No, what?" I replied, wondering what esoteric psychological technique he employed.

"I ask God to help me do it imperfectly," was his answer.

This man, I don't even know what his religion was, provided such a simple and humble answer to my dilemma. I, with my multiple theology degrees, had overlooked the obvious. Pwned.

Why Confess?

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Why should I confess my sins? To be honest, I'm often not sure what's a sin and what isn't. Is it a sin to get angry? Sure, if I lose my temper and start swearing and screaming--that seems to be a sin. But feeling angry at someone who insults me--that's natural, isn't it? What's a sin anyway? Do I need to confess every temptation and passing thought? 

And after all, doesn't God know my mistakes? He's supposed to know everything, right? I can't hide anything from him anyway, so why should I dredge up all that garbage from the past?

And to go to a priest and tell him all this stuff? Are you kidding me? My pastor's the last one I want to know all that embarrassing stuff! I've got to be on my best behavior in church. If anyone knew what went on in my life and in my mind, they would never speak to me again.

My mind gives me many reasons not to reveal my failings to someone else. Yet the wisdom of our elders tells us that revealing our darkest secrets to someone else is an important step in our spiritual journey.

A young man who wanted to join a monastery in the golden age of Egyptian monasticism had to spend a year under the guidance of an elder. In that year, the would-be monk was not to trust in his own judgment but was to reveal every thought and temptation to the elder. This was not some sadistic hazing, but practice in complete honesty and openness. Without transparency, no one can progress in the spiritual life. If temptations remain secret, they maintain their power over us.*

Honesty is like looking into the cellar. We may be frightened the first time we open the cellar door, but if we have someone else there with us, it's not so scary. When we open the door and turn on the light, we have a clear view of what spiders, insects, mice, and dust bunnies are there. With the help of a friend, and the grace of God, we can start to clean out the cellar little by little.

Those of us who wish to be freed from the hold that sinful thoughts and habits have over us benefit from frequently admitting our faults and temptations to someone we trust. Those who belong to a church that includes sacramental or regular confession have ready access to someone who will listen confidentially. Others may have to look harder for a friend or professional whom they can trust. Until we find someone we can confide in, we might try writing down our secrets in a journal, just to practice being honest and open. Psychologists and saints both recommend writing at times. Even if we confess formally at church, sometimes speaking to a trusted friend or writing in a journal may be helpful between confessions.

If openness and honesty open the door to the fruits of the spirit, perhaps it's worth a little embarrassment. Time for confession?

*John Cassian, Institutes, 4. IX and XXXVII

Ordinary Holiness

Every once in a while, a candid video finds its way around the internet. Videos like this show people in unguarded situations, where they are not trying to look good or put on a show. Sometimes these videos are embarrassing or scandalous. Sometimes they are cute or touching. These videos fascinate us because they reveal human beings at the most vulnerable and intimate moments.

Recently, a video (above) of an elderly married couple accidentally recording themselves on their webcam has become popular. At moments it is funny, as when the husband makes a monkey face, and sings "Hello my baby...." while the wife gently allows him be silly. At times it is rather intimate, as when he makes clear he still finds his wife beautiful and attractive. At one point, she starts to get frustrated with herself for not understanding the software, and he responds gently, "You'll do fine, you'll learn."

This married couple seems to be comfortable and safe together. There is no criticism, manipulation, or impatience here. I am sure that at other times in this couple's life there is conflict and sadness, as in all marriages. But in these two minutes and fifty-six seconds, there seems to be none of that. Their words and manner suggest a great love for one another.

The kingdom of heaven peeks in at surprising times if we look for it.

I don't have enough time to pray

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I have no time to pray. I have two young children, a demanding academic schedule, a wife who has a full time job, an internship, friendships to maintain, dinner to cook, clothes to wash, groceries to get, choir practice, exercise...and today I have to take the car for an oil change. I can say the Lord's Prayer real quick and I'm always at church Sunday morning, but I just don't have time to really pray, read Scripture, or be silent in the presence of God.

I often imagine that if I was a monk, then I'd really have time to pray. I wouldn't have kids running around needing their noses wiped while I'm trying to commune with the Creator of all. I could leave behind the cares of the world, and sit quietly enjoying the divine presence.

But now, in the midst of life, I just don't have time to pray. Or do I?

On of the earliest experts on the spiritual life, John Cassian, wrote about the zealous monks in Egypt in a book called The Institutes. The life of these monks was one of extreme austerity. They fasted often and slept little. In the night, the monks would come together to pray Psalms and read Scripture. Then each would retire to his own cell to continue his own prayer.

Cassian makes it clear that the monk would work while he prayed. As the monk braided rope or wove baskets he kept his inner meditation. He tried to keep his mind attentive on the heart, rather than daydreaming, worrying, fantasizing, remembering, or giving in to various mental temptations. Continual labor was not a hindrance to "prayer time." Rather toil was an "anchor" which kept the heart at peace.

This stillness of the heart is the freedom from sin that we all aim for. It is the first step in real communion with Jesus Christ. If Cassian is correct, it is within our reach.

It may be more difficult to maintain inner stillness with all worries of family life or career life. We may benefit from set-apart and scheduled time for prayer and meditation on Scripture. Yet, we may follow the example of the Egyptian monks and work towards inner stillness while we labor.

I do have enough time to pray.

(John Cassian, Institutes, Book 2, XIV)