Category Archives: Accompaniment

Joyful Messengers of Challenging Proposals

In Evangelii Gaudium, Pope Francis writes that we should appear as “joyful messengers of challenging proposals.”*

Proposals, so as to invite others in, open to the next stage of the journey.

Challenging, because that is what our times demand (and an enticing challenge is inherently attractive).

Messengers, because none of us is the Messiah.

Joyful, because we have been deeply loved.

I took a shot at doing just this for a Lenten Retreat at Jesuits.org.  Click the link for the video where I steal my sons’ white board and sketch up a challenging proposal!

*Here is the whole sentence, from paragraph 168: “Rather than experts in dire predictions, dour judges bent on rooting out every threat or deviation, we should appear as joyful messengers of challenging proposals, guardians of the goodness and beauty which shine forth in a life of fidelity to the Gospel.”

People Who Remember That They Are Dust

Yesterday, we were told that we were dust. If someone internalizes and lives by this, being in their presence is a remarkable thing. The quote below from Sr. Joan Chittister’s book Wisdom Distilled From the Daily names well what I mean.

“People who are really humble, who know themselves to be earth or humus – the root from which our word “humble” comes – have about themselves an air of self-containment and self-control. There’s no haughtiness, no distance, no sarchasm, no put downs, no airs of importance or disdain. The ability to deal with both their own limitations and the limitations of others, the recognition that God is in life and that they are not in charge of the universe brings serenity and hope, inner peace and real energy. Humble people walk comfortably in every group… And because they’re at ease with themselves, they can afford to be open with others…”

(And here is the big one.)

“Humility is not a false rejection of God’s gifts. To exaggerate the gifts we have by denying them may be as close to narcissism as we get in life. No, humility is the admission of God’s gifts to me and the acknowledgement that I have been given them for others. Humility is the total continuing surrender to God’s power in my life and in the lives of those around me.” (emphasis added)

The presence of people like this is transformative. That is, when we meet someone thus centered, we want to become more like them. So, for Lent, let’s go find and cherish some truly humble people.

The Capacity for Paradox

A paradox is a statement that seems at first consideration to be self-contradictory but, when lived into, can reveal an exquisite truth.

That desire can lead to pain, but also is the heart of a vocation.

That children can both raze and resurrect the life of a parent.

That I have to be ok being alone in order to be free to love another.

And the big one: That life can spring from death.  (That is, that the cross is our hope.)

I find that the people who are capable of living with paradox are able to live with extraordinary love.  Let’s pray for this capacity every day.

Endurance and Finesse

I love the Olympic biathlon. Skiers negotiate a grueling cross-country course and, at varying levels of exhaustion, must stop and take aim at a tiny target that sits half a football field away.

It is a brilliant challenge of two aspects of physical excellence: endurance and finesse.

That is to say, it is like parenting. A parent, like a biathlete, must develop endurance. (The job is never done, really.) And, while quite tired, the parent must be able to switch gears in a moment to attend gently, care tenderly, or deeply consider a deep, unbidden inquiry.

Let’s pray for parents to have the grace to develop both capacities generously.

No More Days

One Saturday afternoon some months ago, our five-year-old and I were doing puzzles.  Then, with a wild non-sequitor, he said something I will never forget.

He asked: “Papa?  What happens when we have no more days?”

Assuming (correctly) that he was asking about death, I evaded awkwardly.  “You mean…like… when we have no more days in the weekend?  When Monday comes?  Or no more days in this house?  Like when we move back to the US?

I felt panicked.  I could think of nothing to say.

He was thoroughly (and appropriately) underwhelmed.

I surely failed to answer his inquiry that day.  He has, though, asked at other times and in different ways.  My answer has slowly improved.  

And as he asks these questions, I consider the life I want to live before I have no more days.  I pray that my “lived answer” to this challenge is improving also. 

Our son’s questions focus my mind and my guts on the things of ultimate importance, one more way in which he has been God’s grace to me.

Memory and Freedom

A sign of interior freedom is the ability to recall one’s past with clear-eyed honesty. This, I think, is true as an individual as well as a collective (as a Christian or an American, say).

The honest recollection of failure is particularly useful. If we resist whitewashing or banishing our failures, they can teach us to live gracefully into the future. This recollection helps us take ourselves less seriously and ask for help more readily; that is, to live in freedom.

And on a lighter note: If we recall with clear eyes the power and tenderness of being accompanied by God and friends of God, we have the strength to live with interior freedom even in the moments when this accompaniment seems distant.

Improv and Contribution

When I was learning to program, each exercise was done in pairs.  One person had hands on the keyboard, while the other person narrated what to type next based on their vision of how to solve the problem at hand.

This is hard.  Like, extremely hard.  For a bunch of big reasons.  Chief among these reasons is the analysis each person does of the other.  I do not understand where this is heading.  Does this person have any idea what they are doing?

But, of course, learning to confront the analysis that breaks down communication was a major objective of the exercise.  To help us with this objective, the school organized an “intro to improv comedy” class for us.  

The parts of the improv session that were actually funny happened when we were able to tune into another person and respond generously and whimsically.  The point was to follow another’s lead without hyper-analysis.  Indeed, we were to replace analysis with cognitive empathy and lightheartedness.

As we consider the present (and future) of our church and world, it is worth it to realize that we make the road by walking.  Much of this road will be improvisation.  Let’s tune into each other and respond with generosity and lightheartedness. 

Lead from Any Chair

I love the current pediatrician office that cares for our sons.  The doctors are fine, but what really is exemplary is the front desk staff.  They are attentive amid (occasional) chaos, curious even when fatigued, and actually solve a remarkable number of problems without bringing families into the office to see a doctor.  In an important way, the folks answering the phones are leading the practice.

I’ve heard that, while playing in an orchestra, one might “lead from any chair.”  That is, whether I am the conductor, violin soloist, second oboe, or the guy playing that huge drum, I am able, through my actions, to lead. 

What would the church be like if we realized any of us could lead from any chair?  This is, in part, what I think Pope Francis is asking us to consider during the current Synod on Synodality.  (Check out the questions 40% of the way down the page of the Synod Survey of our diocese.)