Hand Them the Chalk

Think of that person who gets under your skin.  Maybe they do something that you do not like.  Maybe they do not believe what you believe or think how you think.

What would happen, though, if you became genuinely, intentionally curious about them?  What if there was no aversion, only an intense desire to learn how they see the world?

Here is one way in.  Picture yourself in a classroom with them.  Now, hand them the chalk and go sit down.  Let them teach you.  Don’t interrupt them.  Don’t prepare a rebuttal while they are talking.  Let them really sketch it all out for you.  Let them cover the whole board.

When we are able to listen like this, a whole world opens up.  Our vision becomes expansive.  We see that they, like us, carry fear, and this fear makes us all do things that don’t make sense.  We see a way forward in relationship.   

These days, I think this is what is meant, in the prayer of St. Francis, by the lines: “O Master, let me not seek as much…to be understood as to understand…”

The Empty Tomb

Have you read Pope Francis’ Easter Vigil homily?  It is worth it.  

This part was a gift to me.

“The first proclamation of the resurrection was not a statement to be unpacked, but a sign to be contemplated. In a burial ground, near a grave, in a place where everything should be orderly and peaceful, the women “found the stone rolled away from the tomb; but when they went in, they did not find the body” (vv. 2-3). Easter begins by upsetting our expectations. It comes with the gift of a hope that surprises and amazes us.” (emphasis added)

How can contemplation of this image, this sign, be a gift to us in places where we are stuck?

One More Paradox

Can I add one more paradox to the list of apparent contradictions that, when lived into, lead to a life of deep love?

Here it is.

That we have to feel and believe that we are enough in this moment in order to be transformed.

Put another way, the Spiritual Exercises have us, “know well that I’m loved even though oh so flawed” and lead on to “offer all I possess, beg for my stony-heart thawed, and act from a deep love, the love that is God.

The Opposite of Hope

What if we understood presumption to be the opposite of hope?

The presumption that only “we” have anything of worth to say.  That if it is not our truth, then it is a lie.  That truly listening to those people is not worth my time.  That fatalism is the only honest way to face the facts.

Presumption is one way to buffer ourselves from the weight of reality which, considered with clear perception, is quite heavy.  

Hope, though, entails a creative impulse that holds our engagement of reality ajar to love, to courage, and to daily commitment to take charge of the weight of reality.  

I do not think this “hope-holding-us-ajar” movement is something we do on our own, but it is possible to pray for.

Turning Down and Tuning In

Every time we sit down to talk with another person, it is, in a sense, a double date.  We are each there, of course, but we have also brought along our inner voice, that chatter in our head about how the world (and the other person) should be.

That chatter keeps us from attending to the other, truly walking with them and loving them.

And we all have the chatter. (The times when we think we don’t are when it can get in the way the most.)

This chatter (and so the double date aspect) will never entirely go away, but conversations (and, over years, relationships) go better when we each do our part to turn down the volume on this inner commentary.

How to turn down the chatter? My best answer at the moment is to: 1) see it when it arises, and gently let it go, over and over for years, and 2) root in a reality bigger than ourselves so we do not think we need the chatter to control the world.

Let’s learn to turn down the chatter to tune in to each other. 

Logistics of the One-Hour Clearness Committee on Zoom

Last week, I wrote that a few friends and I had adapted a Quaker “clearness committee” process to accompany one another.  Here is a description of how we adapted the process.

1. We read this article about the original process, so we could incorporate as much of it as we could into our limited version.

2. We committed to this process with each other, nominated a first focus person, and then set a date and time for the first meeting.  (And we schedule successive meetings / nominate the next focus person as one meeting concludes.) 

3. The week before, the focus person sends the group a write up (usually 2-3 pages) giving an account of where they find themselves in their vocation, conceived broadly.  (We have followed the article (See point #2) and included “a concise statement of the problem,” “relevant background,” and “hunches for what is on the horizon”.)  

4. We meet at the scheduled time for one hour.  The focus person briefly recaps their write-up and then the others ask honest, open-ended questions (See point #6) that the focus person can answer or simply consider.

5. In the final minutes, the group reflects back to the focus person something significant that they saw or heard during the process.  (For example, they might reflect back when they saw the focus person was most animated.) 

6. Following the session, the scribe emails the group with a list of questions that were asked.  (The questions are often significant gifts to the others in the group.)

The point is for the focus person to listen to what occurs within them… where is their desire, where are they hiding or evading?  All parts of the structure are at the service of this listening.

Seeing What Matters, Clearly

A “clearness committee” is a Quaker ritual in which a “focus person” who is approaching an important life decision gathers trusted friends, presents context relevant to the upcoming discernment, and invites, for three hours, those gathered to ask kenotic, open-ended questions to help the person consider the issue more deeply. At the end of the three hours, those gathered reflect back to the focus person what they have seen and heard.

The main point is to hold a space for the focus person to listen to what arises within them during the process. Put another way, the exercise lovingly introduces material for the discernment of spirits.

I’ve never done this complete process, perhaps because of a lack of initiative and imagination or due to constraints of time and physical distance.

I have, though, once a month for the past five months, gathered on Zoom with four dear friends (and also fathers) for one hour for a simplified clearness committee. We sign on, from California, Kansas, North Carolina, Ohio, and Virginia, briefly catch up, and dive in. (I’ll write next week explaining how we have modified the process.)

It is so simple, and such a profound gift. When else have I been offered questions (that is to say, invitations to a fuller life) out of deep love and hope from friends I have known for 15+ years? What would replace the intimacy of knowing and engaging another’s history in this way?

This sort of thing takes initiative and dedication of precious time. And it is all too easy to put off until tomorrow.

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 are 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)

Sr. Joan Chittister, OSB in Wisdom Distilled From the Daily

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 Box on the Board

I once had a teacher do the following.

At the start of class, he walked silently to the board. He slowly drew two parallel horizontal lines, and then connected them into a rectangle with two vertical lines. (By this time, we were all quiet, watching.) He then asked us a question: “What do you see?”

Every answer tried to describe what he had drawn. A box? A TV? A picture frame?

After some time, his response to us was: “Why are you all only talking about these four lines? My question to you was ‘what do you see?’  You could have chosen anything in this whole room, yet you are all fixated here.”

He was right. He had never told us to describe or even look at the rectangle.

The point of the exercise has stuck with me: we allowed what he drew on the board to corral our thinking, to limit our vision and conversation.  And this led to the even more important question: how, outside of the class, do we unreflectively allow our vision to be limited?

If we allow [insert dominant cultural narrative] or [insert news outlet] or [insert social media platform] or [insert cultural turf battle] to frame our thoughts, it will surely limit how we see and think and live.  

Relying on outside sources of information is, of course, inescapable, but it is always worth it to consider how a given source corrals the conversation and might get us stuck in an unproductive pattern.  

Every day, we can choose to get unstuck by choosing a wider frame and starting a new conversation.