Accompaniment – Page 18

Generosity of Mind

I have a friend who actively seeks out media that communicates a worldview that he does not encounter very often or necessarily share. This is a unique and, I think, indispensable virtue for our times.

If we were in an ethics class, what would we call this virtue? Generosity of mind, perhaps? Self-interrogation? Active open-mindedness?

He is a principled person, certainly, and not swayed by every argument. Indeed, the utility of his virtue would be much diminished if he believed everything, or worse, nothing that he heard.

This generosity of mind makes him into a person capable of expansive relationships. This expansiveness represents a tremendous asset to our culture and helps him build a more just world.

Conformism or Courage

Mary Ann Evans (under the pen name of George Eliot) wrote the following about the subtle conformism woven into the psyche of the town in Middlemarch.

The town’s citizens, largely, assumed that, “[s]ane people did what their neighbors did, so that if any lunatics were at large, one might know and avoid them.” (a few pages into Book 1, Chapter 1)

The characters for whom this (brutal) sentence is true, are eminently manipulable by unstated expectations. They run from anything but “the accepted way” and they don’t really recognize how they circumscribe their lives in the process. If we live, consciously or not, by the same maxim, then the same is true of us.

But if we courageously develop the capacity to think,

and then to think about our thinking,

and then to think about how we think about our thinking,

then we are on the way to deep cognitive empathy and the ability to develop meaningful relationships with those with whom we might have otherwise considered silly, or worse, enemies.

This takes courage, the fortitude to be strange and free.

Screen Time, for the Mind

If I swipe right on my iPhone, I can see the “Screen Time” widget, an itemized graph that shows me exactly how I spend time on my phone.

If we could access a similar report for our minds, what would it show? Chunks of time in the flow of generous creation? Obsessive analysis? Active listening? Beholding nature? Beholding a child? Learning something new? Prayer? What else?

Attending to how our mind attends to the world is occasionally frightening but certainly an enlightening and worthy endeavor.

One by One

A few weeks ago, my wife and I walked into a concert venue that had been converted into a COVID vaccine clinic. The volume of vaccines that this place could and has administered is enormous. All of this work was done one shot at a time.

In a world where so much happens so fast, we do well to remember that a great deal of the important things happen slowly, even tediously. Administering vaccines. Teaching a young person to read. Learning to articulate oneself in spiritual direction. Offering time in prayer.

Since this is the case, the way to make a difference, then, is to show up each day and attend to each interaction. One by one.

The Church as a Network of Spiritual Directors

We use the word “church” to mean a lot of things. The people of God. The structure where we meet to pray. The hierarchy that leads. The tradition handed down.

What if, when we said church, our default definition was “a network of spiritual directors”… a tribe bound together by the tender cultivation of another’s (as well as their own) journey to know themselves as loved sacramentally?

If this was the default definition, how would this shift our priorities? How would this shift our inner lives?

Student-Teacher Ratios

The first class I ever taught, in rural Uganda, had about sixty students. My most recent class, some years ago in Chicago, had fourteen.

Even in the class of fourteen, it was a challenge to shepherd each of their individual journeys toward growth.

Now think about the challenge of teaching as a Catholic parish. Maybe there are 3 full-time equivalent positions dedicated to formation and education. And, say, that there are 1,000 parishioners. That is a tough ratio for the educators. How could the staff possibly know what you, individually, need?

To my mind, in this situation the best way for a parishioner to ensure their solid formation is to first develop the capacity to know what they need and then to seek it out.

What can we do to make this easier? That is how can we build structures that invite engagement as a kitchen and not a restaurant?

PS – This is a different point, but here are some brilliant folks working on a development that would be a sea change for how we teach with integrity. Check them out!

St. Augustine’s Self-Criticism

It took me a long time to appreciate St. Augustine of Hippo, whose Confessions were assigned to us a few times through college and graduate school.

Here was a man who was clearly holy, writing with singular insight about the journey to know God, and, in the same volume, wrote a fantastic amount about how imperfect he was. This appeared to me, at first blush, to be indulgently self-critical.

But some years ago, I heard someone remark that an inescapable part of the journey to holiness is knowing that precious little separates us from truly destructive behavior and self-dilution. And the ability to see this reality clearly liberates us to approach others with deep compassion. We are not, in fact, any better than that person we may feel superior to.

I think that this is what Augustine knew, and why he wrote so much about his imperfection. He knew the particularity of his interior life, his capacity to be self-destructive, and, ultimately, the experience of amazing grace. I believe that it is this completeness of vision that undergirds his holiness and his life of erudite service.

70 Seconds

When I was home caring for our first son, our mornings were structured around an adventure outside the apartment. We would walk to the library, a museum, or a park, and then head home for lunch and a nap.

One day, I noticed that I always seemed to be rushing to and from these adventures. Rushing to catch the light before it turned red. Always trying to find the fastest way through the city to my destination.

Out of curiosity, I timed myself en route to our farthest adventure at a leisurely pace and then going as fast as I could while still walking.

The difference was 70 seconds.

70 seconds! This was what I gained for giving my attention over to rushing instead of mindful enjoyment of the journey.

I am still often guilty of speeding in this way. It is an ongoing challenge to remind myself that this rushing is not worth that which it sacrifices.

We Are Going to Get You Out of Here Early

When our first son was to be baptized, I went to the Baptism preparation program for parents and godparents at our parish. Ours was a thriving parish in a big city. We were a large group in the church basement, ready to tune to the mystery of the Sacrament.

Then, the catechist began the session with the following: “We are going to get you out of here early.”

What?

We were told from the very beginning that the session, an already scandalously limited time for our formation, was going to cut corners, be a box to check.

So, what is the opposite approach? In the limited time available, the catechist might give us such a glimpse of the mystery of Baptism and the religious potential of the child that we might be drawn closer to the mystery ourselves and acknowledge the privilege of being a parent or a godparent.

For our children to have a vibrant church, we need the latter approach.

Experiments

Jesuits, early in formation, go on “experiments,” relatively short-term experiences of a specific type of service. This exposes them to a new world and allows them to explore new gifts. It has a terminal point and so has low stakes if it does not turn out well.

So, that thing that you’ve been putting off… that thing that represents an expression of your generosity… is there a way to turn it into an experiment?

It just may turn out that someone would delight in the generosity of your attempt.

(PS – Audacious Ignatius was an experiment Katie and I decided to try one day while our kids played trains together. We give thanks often for giving the project a shot.)