Billy Collins

A friend of mine read some of her favorite Billy Collins poetry last night at a party. What a poet! I've included his most famous poem for your viewing pleasure. So without further ado, the touching and delightfully funny poem, "The Lanyard."

The Lanyard - Billy Collins

The other day I was ricocheting slowly
off the blue walls of this room,
moving as if underwater from typewriter to piano,
from bookshelf to an envelope lying on the floor,
when I found myself in the L section of the dictionary
where my eyes fell upon the word lanyard.
No cookie nibbled by a French novelist
could send one into the past more suddenly—
a past where I sat at a workbench at a camp
by a deep Adirondack lake
learning how to braid long thin plastic strips
into a lanyard, a gift for my mother.
I had never seen anyone use a lanyard
or wear one, if that’s what you did with them,
but that did not keep me from crossing
strand over strand again and again
until I had made a boxy
red and white lanyard for my mother.
She gave me life and milk from her breasts,
and I gave her a lanyard.
She nursed me in many a sick room,
lifted spoons of medicine to my lips,
laid cold face-cloths on my forehead,
and then led me out into the airy light
and taught me to walk and swim,
and I, in turn, presented her with a lanyard.
Here are thousands of meals, she said,
and here is clothing and a good education.
And here is your lanyard, I replied,
which I made with a little help from a counselor.
Here is a breathing body and a beating heart,
strong legs, bones and teeth,
and two clear eyes to read the world, she whispered,
and here, I said, is the lanyard I made at camp.
And here, I wish to say to her now,
is a smaller gift—not the worn truth
that you can never repay your mother,
but the rueful admission that when she took
the two-tone lanyard from my hand,
I was as sure as a boy could be
that this useless, worthless thing I wove
out of boredom would be enough to make us even

Private lives?

I've struggled to find a topic to blog about recently. It seems others have done great work on the HHS mandate, none more than Michael Rozier. I will leave that to him. I also thought about writing something more Lenten, but I realized the other day that one of the principal graces of Lent, i.e. the embrace of the necessity of the cross, finds us all whether we like it or not.

But I did find inspiration from one of my Jewish classmates at Harvard Divinity School. She spoke the other day about the cabalistic notion of white spaces when reading the Scriptures. Basically, what do we learn when we let ourselves imagine what is in between the text? So, today I would like to wonder about Jesus' hidden life. But first a couple of stories...

One of my favorites assignments I ever constructed for my students was the "chastity date." The exercise asked my juniors in Christian Discipleship class to ask someone on a date with absolutely no romantic expectation. They were also not to make any romantic advances on their date. (Sometimes you need to be blunt with teenagers.) Rather, the whole purpose of the assignment was to take a person out, treat them to something, and find out more about a person. I designed the "date" concept in hopes of bolstering the virtue of chastity. I wanted them to be amazed by who the person was, not what they looked like.  The whole date idea seemed to work. Guys took out friends they had not seen in a while, or people who they had written off as ugly or uncool. It was really humbling to read their reflections.

A year after the assignment one of my former students pulled me aside and thanked me for assigning the "chastity date." He mentioned that he met his current girlfriend through the date. Her intelligence impressed him but he found her intimidating. The assignment gave him permission to listen to the chaste part of his heart. The assignment helped him be attuned with one of his deeper desires...

A few years ago a Jesuit friend of mine took me to visit a couple in central California. The couple were lawyers and had recently welcomed a baby boy to their family. Like many new parents, they were overwhelmed but enamored with their infant son. But this couple was stressed. Both were working feverishly to try to pay off law school debt and wore the stress all over their body. The husband looked particularly beat. His wife recognized this and caringly asked him how she could support him. He suggested a trip to the casino to play blackjack would ease his mind. As he put it, "He just needed some time away to clear his mind and get some space."

When they shared this plan with me I cringed knowing that the husband had been in recovery from alcoholism for two years. I could sense a subtext in his tone. I knew there was some other motivation in his heart. Yet, having just met the couple, I lacked the courage to mention my reservations. After all I was a house guest. I had no business commenting on their relationship. The man went to the casino and relapsed. Two years later the couple divorced.

I bring these somewhat opposite stories to bear to show how important it is to know, listen, and share what is on our hearts. Spiritual literature has done an excellent job of discussing the positives of desire and the importance of desire. But I think it has sometimes failed in mentioning the absolutely necessity to attempt to share everything with at least someone. I'm suggesting that there is nothing too personal, that someone cannot hear it. The student in the first story needed prompting, an assignment, to share his attraction. In the second story, I failed to prompt the married couple to dig deeper. (N.B. I'm sure there was much more to the marriage that I did not see. Also, even if I did share my reservations it might not have changed a more systemic problem in their relationship. But still.)

In a healthy marriage, married couples can talk about their feelings, even "scary" ones like lust or substance abuse with their spouse. Likewise, single people can share their innermost selves with a friend or a therapist. Heck, even telling a stranger something private can be helpful. Granted, you cannot share everything with everyone. Moreover, there are better forums for sharing, like conversations, than others, like the Internet. The point is to share.

I write all of this because their is an insidiousness in our brains that tells us somethings are just too personal to share with someone. No one else experiences what I do. That our private lives are a burden for others. This is just false. Here is where the white spaces come into play. I like to imagine how Jesus shared his temptations with others. We know he went out alone in the desert to face them. But I bet he talked to rock or to himself for sometime. I also believe he shared these things with His Father. I also like to imagine how Jesus talked about his first "crush" with his mother or with his friends. What was it like for him to share the joy he saw when he healed someone? How did he handle his disciples inability to understand him?

 

So, for Lent maybe we can examine our fantasy lives. What is in our heart? Can we talk about it with someone? Why are we sometimes so scared of what we imagine? Can we trust that in finding a safe person to talk to might lead to our transformation? Can we trust that our embrace of our cross, ultimately leads to our crown? What can we learn from the white spaces in our lives?

Lent

I racked my brain for how I could get closer to God during Lent. I thought about eating all my meals left-handed. I could give up coffee again. I decided on giving up Facebook. Then I read Michael Rossman's decision to give up ESPN.  As soon as I read it I knew I would join him.

I joined him because this devotion would be difficult--it rivals my giving up soda as a middle schooler. But I mainly joined him because I wanted to journey with him this holy season. My friend Paddy gave him 7:2 odds of surviving. I think with my support those odds drop significantly.

But Lent is not about achieving your goal. It is about entering more deeply into the Paschal Mystery. And what better way to get closer to the Lord than to pray for someone you love every day, to think about how that person needs you to be strong when you are tempted. I feel this Lent my goal is to enter ever more deeply into the Society of Jesus. I want to feel like Francis Xavier who used to keep the names of his Jesuit friends in a pouch by his heart as he traveled to the edges of the world. So this Lent I will think of Michael. I will pray for John as he gives up chocolate. I talk to my community members and think of their devotions.

What are the people you love giving up this Lent? Can you as a family, or a couple, do something together for Lent? How do you support the ones you care for in their devotions?

The Jesuit Post

First, and foremost, please visit the following website. Often.

www.thejesuitpost.org

The Jesuit Post took my breath away. My best friends, my class mates, had constructed an artful, intelligent, and hip website to talk about Jesus with people. I teared up as I viewed it. I then viewed the staff page.

Doubt crept in.

My joy turned to jealously, sadness that I was not a contributor. Thankfully, I caught myself. Am I really descending into small minded jealously? Yes. So, I prayed. I had to ask God to help remind me of all the gifts God has given me. I had to beg God to show me the joys of my life. I had to thank God for the gifts the men who put this together were to my own life.

Over the years my core sin has been this distrust of God. It seems Satan snarls me by reminding me of what I do not have. As a younger Jesuit, this usually meant a girlfriend. My heart broke as I watched my college sweetheart get married. A few times in Chicago, I returned from a party after spending a magical evening meeting someone for the first time. I remember that I could not breath after one such soiree because Linda (named changed here to protect her) captivated me. I went home and told my Jesuit brothers that I had met the most amazing gal. They told me I needed to go thank Jesus for this. They also reminded me not to honor my vow of chastity and avoid doing anything dumb!

Those years in Chicago, as well as the first year and a half of regency in Milwaukee, Satan would catch me from time to time. "Look at what you do not have. Look how lonely you are. How will ever make friends with these old men you live with?"

I finally turned a corner after almost falling off a cliff.

I went to the wedding of a couple whom I count among my best friends. Unsurprisingly, I fell for the maid of honor. Hard. The image that shocked me into this devotion for her was one of her alone in the Church (except for me setting up for the wedding mass) kneeling, crying, and praying. I got this incredible access to her conversation with God. There she was asking God for help of letting go of her best friend. It was one of the most beautiful images. She had my heart at that point.

After the wedding, I thought of her kneeling and praying often. I began writing her letters and talking to her regularly. After a few months of this, I told a colleague of mine at Marquette I would soon leave the Jesuits to join her on the coast she lived. I then told her about this. She would not let it happen. In fact, she refused to let herself fall for me those months because she knew that God had other plans for me. We broke off communication. I was devastated. Embarrassingly, I had to face my colleague and tell him I would not be leaving. I felt rejected.

I'm thankful for this. My gratitude stems, not so much for the result, I believe we would have had a wonderful life together, but from her wisdom. She could see that I did not trust God. My conversations with her replaced the ones I had with God. I needed to pray, to converse with God about these feelings I had been having for years. So, there God was to welcome me and my broken heart. Slowly, I began to remember how much I loved the Lord. God showed me the great gifts of my life. He reminded me of the ways he worked through all the students I taught. He put in front of me my family. He asked me to stop holding back my love from my brother. He asked me to bring my fears, like my mother's various maladies, to prayer. He asked me to embrace the present.

I began this blog a few months later. It was a way of reminding myself of my need for God. Where was their joy in the world? How could this one tool on the Internet lead me closer to God?

So, today, amidst the sting of jealously, I remind myself of all the love God had given me. God has reminded me of the way He is using me--in promoting vocations, in publishing spiritual reflections, in helping construct a motto for the 2014 year of Jubilee for the Jesuits.

I dreamed last night of taking a walk with my good friend Dan and his little baby boy Benji. In the dream we just held Benji and protected him. I get to see Benji weekly. He is pure gift. There is much to be grateful for.

So, after working it out this morning with God, I now can view the Jesuit Post in freedom and joy. What keeps you from embracing the present? What keeps your heart locked in chains? Who helps loosen those binds? Do you trust in the love of the Lord?

The Suburban Refugee Camp

I made my first visit to Costco today. What a profoundly strange place! Birds flew through the upper ranges of the aisles. A legion of workers offered lunch time samples of various items. (I decided to not pass on any item to get a true Costco experience. The result: an upset stomach.) And portion sizes fit for armies and big families. I clearly did not find the place appealing.

If the average American family is less than 5 people, how can anyone justify buying such large quantities, even if they do save a few dollars? Why the need to stock up? Hoard?

I actually thought Costco resembled a refugee camp with its open space in the middle lined with clothing. I imagined refugees walking through lines gathering clothes for themselves. In the end, this is why I did not like Costco. The surplus within the store reminded me of the paucity of the poor and displaced.

I put a couple of pictures below for comparison's sake. Thoughts?

First Impressions

It has been three and a half months since I blogged. But in preparation for Christmas, I will try to post each day this week. I spent yesterday in New York City. Some initial thoughts.

• I found the denizens of this city, well, friendly. They helped old ladies across the street, held doors for people, and thanked their waiters. My sense is their perceived rudeness stems from their ability to let someone know when they are acting outside the bound of proper behavior, e.g., honking at pedestrians who hold up traffic by jaywalking. The city needs order to work. The citizens impose it upon each other often enough.
• I thought a lot about Mother Teresa. I prayed a lot. There are so many people in this city. I found myself wandering what is happening in their life. I often felt many of them needed some kindness. I can see how sainthood, the desire for it, gets sharpened in a place like this.
• The first time I visited Times Square 11 years ago I found it amazing. Yesterday I found it sickening. Too much stimulation in such a condensed space. Too much advertising. It is a must see, but once is enough.
• Central Park itself is not spectacular. What is spectacular about the park is that it is a park. I found myself exhaling I was went through the park. We do need a little space from time to time.
• I like it here. People are beautiful, if not interesting. All the creativity and vitality that drives the island, stimulates my won creative juices. I hope to visit again. And soon.

Love Bade Me Welcome

A good friend sent me this poem the other day. My prayer for all of you as this new school year begins is that Love continues to teach you how wonderful you are, despite your own best efforts at times to act otherwise.

Love bade me welcome; yet my soul drew back,                                    .

            Guilty of dust and sin.                                                           

But quick-ey'd Love, observing me grow slack                                   

            From my first entrance in,                                                           

Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning,

            If I lacked anything.                                                           

'A guest,' I answer'd,' worthy to be here':                                               

            Love said, 'You shall be he.'

'I, the unkind, ungrateful?  Ah, my dear

            I cannot look on Thee.'

Love took my hand, and smiling did reply,

            'Who made the eyes but I?'

"Truth, Lord, but I have marr'd them; let my shame                       

            Go where it doth deserve.'                                                           

'And know you not,' says Love, 'who bore the blame?'                                   

            'My dear, then I will serve.'                                               

'You must sit down,' says Love, 'and taste My meat.'                                   

            So I did sit and eat.                                                           

           

                                    George Herbert  1633