God’s Economy is Bizarre

We instinctively suppose we should work from strength, handing on to others the riches that are ours. Instead, we often do our best work when we operate from weakness and totally empty hands, passing on something we do not possess, producing effects we can in no way explain out of who we are. God's economy is bizarre; there is no employment quite as baffling as his. (Thomas N. Hart, The Art of Christian Listening, pgs: 12-13)

Humility is so often misrepresented and poorly understood, but the excerpt above points towards its true purpose and expresses its rightful benefit. Holy humility has less to do with the expression of our personality and more to do with finding our strength in God. This simple understanding is a key to opening ourselves to God's grace; to operating beneficially in God's economy.

We're speaking of the way in which God applies the divine will in our everyday affairs. Our 'Sister', Holy Humility, is not so concerned with annihilating our faults (God can work through them) as she is in releasing the real source of strength, the Holy Spirit, into the lives of those we encounter. Most believers acknowledge the power of God in an overarching way throughout history, yet many discount the unknown spiritual movement that happens daily through our powerlessness.

This is joyful to contemplate. Rather than complaining about the spiritual or material gifts we seemingly lack, we do better in sharing what little we do have. In fact, we can rejoice in our poverty because it allows God to provide his richness in the most wholesome and unexpected manner. It's not nearly as paradoxical as it seems; it's true faith in action.

In the last post I spoke of 'getting out of the way'. Overall, I was referring to impediments of 'self-centeredness' that distort and short circuit the message of the gospel. Even so, it's a wonder to behold how God's will is accomplished more readily, and seen more easily, in our own limitations. We need this awareness (humility) to counter our sense of helplessness, especially when circumstances are beyond our control.

Getting Out of the Way

In the spiritual life I've discerned a general mission that begins with my own on-going conversion and extends to the world around me. In some mysterious sense, I find myself oscillating between my own spiritual needs and a need to be available for others. It's awkwardly comfortable and lately my consolation comes through meeting the needs of others.

This past winter I became a volunteer at a local soup kitchen and each week I make myself available for a few hours. Some of the time is spent in kitchen work, but my real purpose (according to the staff) is to mingle with the patrons and listen. My initial reaction was trepidation, but the Holy Spirit has consoled me and helped me to listen more attentively and speak more supportively. There's definitely an art to 'Christian listening' and it involves something I call 'getting out of the way'. It's a simple role but its life giving and profoundly spiritual, as long as I allow the Spirit free reign.

I'm not trained in serving the poor, so I refer any material needs to members of the staff; who are creative in finding solutions and resources. After some months at doing this, it's clear that my primary role is to be present and listen. It's also clear that there's a reward far greater than the small sacrifice I offer. (Speaking of sacrifice; we moderns have tried to avoid it rather than embrace it for others, and in doing so we've traded our unity with others, for discord and blame.)

In some way my life is being altered because of the role I play as listener. I have more of an opportunity and an obligation to share God's grace. Yet when I'm in the presence of someone in need, it's not clear whether this grace moves toward or away from me. What is clear is that the life of Christ arises as I step aside. The opposite is also true, that the gospel life diminishes as my own self-centeredness appears.

Self-centeredness becomes most obvious when I see others as 'wrong'. I 'get in the way' when I classify some individual's behavior as 'foolish'. I push Christ aside when I quantify someone else's 'weaknesses'. On the other hand, the gospel emerges when I focus on the needs of others, and it is exalted when I assist someone who's alienated or alone. Jesus is revealed when people are nurtured in any way, but he's glorified the most, when the poor are lifted up in their most undeserving moments. If I take the gospel seriously, then I have to be Christ-like to the most difficult person I can find.

Listening is actually a privilege and all of the souls I've met have been far from difficult: in fact they've been downright pleasant. And they've given me their time unselfishly, and aided me with their spirits. So I'll try to help by simply 'getting out of the way' and letting them unload their burdens for a short while.

Trusting God in Turmoil

This past year has been turbulent; one of fear and anxiety. Financial panic has gripped the world and only recently subsided. Our confidence in the future has been shaken and our dreams have given way to harsh realities. So this may be an opportune time to step back and see what role our faith can play in overcoming the turmoil.

Renew our trust in God. Stress almost always boils down to a lack of control and many of our spiritual battles are about 'who's in control'. Don't give in to anxiety. The first thing is to gather ourselves spiritually and to make an 'act of trust' in God. Doing so is a concrete form of humility. If we, as creatures, have any control over the circumstances, it's in placing our highest confidence in our Creator as a loving Father (or loving Mother). The point is that we are the object of God's love; a love which never changes, and we must keep faith, even in difficult circumstances.

Realign our values and make change. (The old fashioned term would be repentance) This is an opportunity to see how our own financial behavior reflects our commitment to gospel living. Are we so fearful of tomorrow that we neglect today? Sometimes the uncertainties of the future can crowd out the love and joy available in this very moment. Are we open to the needs of others, or do we see them as burdens? Our fallen human nature tells us that our neighbor is our competitor; one who drains us: but the gospel proclaims our solidarity and asks for self-sacrifice.

Realize that faith transforms us and the world. A crisis always contains the seeds of new growth. Times like these not only test our faith, but also fortify it, especially as we practice it. Witnessing Christ to others brings about God's Kingdom here on Earth. Even if the world should fall into catastrophe we do little to help by falling into despair. Times such as these, with the world in disarray, are also the times when the world becomes open to a new message.

Work for justice. The world is constantly yearning for better economic outcomes and the Church joins in this quest while insisting on the dignity of each person. In a very real sense work is a gift from God and part of our human development. In working we share in creation and redemption and serve our community. Therefore we need to promote human work (labor) as both a gift and a responsibility (see Article XVI, SFO Rule). We do so in a twofold manner: primarily by the testimony of our own lives and beyond that in taking courageous initiatives in public life (see Article XV).

Decide to take action now. The more we give as Christ gives, the more we receive Christ in return. As St. Francis would say…'it is in giving that we receive'. Ask God who you can help. Look for Christ among us especially in those in need. Let others see Christ in you through your compassion.

It is in Giving that We Receive

One of the reasons I love the Franciscan way of life is its willing acceptance of the paradoxes of Christian life. Followers of Francis have that seemingly odd spiritual sense of embracing what the world finds absurd. It's a quality of finding what you're not looking for by searching for the wrong thing. For instance, striving to become the leader and discovering that a true leader is really the servant of all the rest. We grow by becoming small, rather than lording it over others. We receive by giving, not taking. We discover a rich life through spiritual poverty or we find true greatness in holy humility. (Note: I count this uncommon quality as an authentic sign of a Franciscan vocation; conversely someone who resists this inclination is applying at the wrong door.)

Of course Franciscans don't own this quality, it's basic to Christian spirituality; but it is a hallmark of our spiritual family. Other paradoxical traits include simplicity and pardon. Simplicity disarms cunning and overcomes worldly wisdom (which is really foolishness). Forgiveness and love have the power to sting a wrongdoer and may ultimately transform a heart to goodness (see Article XIX of the SFO Rule). To follow Francis is to necessarily enjoy the paradox of finding our strength (which comes from God), in our weakness.

This quality is heralded in The Prayer of St. Francis: (an excerpt)

For it is in giving that we receive, It is in pardoning that we are pardoned, And it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

We could easily misunderstand or limit our understanding of the above passage. We might conclude that when we give, we begin a chain reaction that results in our receiving something in return. This is the world's rationale. Or again, when we pardon, we're setting a good example, and therefore we might hope it will be contagious and spark a return. Indeed, sometimes this is the case. Nevertheless, whether we receive anything back, or are pardoned in return, is actually irrelevant to the greater good of uniting with the Will of God.

Sadly, our experience teaches us that our gifts are often spurned and our forgiveness is usually trodden underfoot. As bad as that seems it gets worse, because we foolishly translate this into disappointment in others, and sometimes in God. We often judge our own uncharitable ways as justified, because we gave but did not receive in return. But here in the world's disappointing behavior St Francis finds an inverse response to the situation; he shows us joy, something Francis referred to as 'Perfect Joy'. (If you're unfamiliar with 'Perfect Joy', click here.)

What the Prayer of St. Francis says to me is that when we give of ourselves, we do as God has shown us in the giving of his Son Jesus; and we simultaneously receive the gift of the Son. When we pardon from our hearts unconditionally; we pardon others in the manner God has pardoned us; and in doing so, we receive our own eternal pardon. Finally, and perhaps most paradoxical, we must hasten our death to our own unhealthy inclinations. When we're ready to immerse ourselves in a baptism of death to the old man, only then are we ready to rise to new and glorious life.

For those of us who are professed into the Order, we have the responsibility to live out these inverse qualities of poverty, humility, simplicity, chastity and all the rest, in manner appropriate to our state in life. In doing so to make it clear that Jesus is present in us and to not obscure his image in any way. If we fail to show this life we're squandering precious time (Mea Culpa).

Was That a Knuckleball?

Now and again I'm thrown off my spiritual game. What I mean is that ordinary spiritual patterns become unrecognizable, and my normal prayer routines fail to produce the standard results. I get the impression that God throws me a curve or some other pitch I don't expect, and I respond by swinging wildly - striking out again and again. So here's my clumsy attempt to understand and explain why my string of reflections stopped rather abruptly.

Late last year my bogging diminished dramatically and I noticed my inability to put a coherent thought down. My spiritual life continued on autopilot, clinging to routines (thankfully) with a sort of dispirited faithfulness born in duty more than love. I suspect one of the primary reasons is discovering I have sleep apnea and experiencing difficulty in getting the treatment fine tuned. The reality of living with poor quality sleep has been profound and it's taken its toll in dozens of ways. Only of late have I begun to resolve this successfully.

Hopefully, I'll be able to focus and write again. But the experience of a setback itself may turn out to be a sort of spiritual 'backing and filling', giving me a new perspective and new growth. We'll see.