We are selfish creatures; it is hard not feel that even more acutely during Lent. That may be one of the hardest burdens we gained from our fall in the garden is an unnatural tendency to selfishness.
It is easier to say "me" than to say "us," to say "I" than to say "we."
So I guess that I have to admit this blog is a little selfish.
My wife and I were discussing how hard it is to come up with married saints. It seems like most espoused saints either went into religious life after they became a widow(er), lived a celibate life while married, were praying their wayward son and abusive husband into heaven, or died in childbirth.
It's not that we don't know amazing married couples, it's just hard sometimes to see how anyone can be that put together. It seems impossible sometimes to grow in holiness while working on about 3 hours of sleep, especially when those three hours weren't even all at once.
And so, inspired by two very holy women, we are trying to make our own "Little Way." This is our way of keeping track of the things that work, and maybe our way of leaving a record for our children that even though we weren't perfect, we tried.
And while we're working, we might as well share.
First impressions:
ReplyDeleteYou mentioned the "I" versus "WE" pronouns. In the monastery, we always referred to ourselves as "we" and rarely did a person use the first person singular. "WE decided to do this thing in the community because..." "WE celebrate Mass this way because..." "WE purchase these groceries because..." It becomes easy to talk in the monastic "we" when everyone around you is doing it, too. In fact, as a member of a community, you feel swallowed up by the "we" --in a good way, in a sense of belonging and union. To this day, when Mitch or I talk about our respective communities, we still say "we" instead of "they," even though neither of us is religious anymore.
I think that because of this influence, referring to Mitch and me as "we" is easy for us. Not only that, but he and I are often going "contra mundi" with very little support and can't afford to separate our united front. :) Whether or not this change in grammar and word choice affects our selfishness is highly debatable; I'm pretty sure that virtue alone can only account for that.
Lay life is essentially a "natural" road to holiness, hence why we generally only see lay or married saints who do things out of the ordinary. Sainthood requires heroic virtue, and although marriage and parenting require a great deal of heroism, it exists on the natural plane. We are all called to live as saints in the context of our vocation, of course. And as to how to accomplish that exactly, I would refer you to my fiance.
Thanks for starting something new and cool, Jeremiah! Cheers!
I think it is always interesting to look at the two different "we's" one has in Catholicism: you have the monastic "we" and the lay "we". I think meditation on these "we's" is very important in the development of a "Little Married Way". In lay life, you are often working on three hours of sleep, which are rarely had in sequence and which are supposed to equip one for an entire day of battle. In monastic life, however, this same three hours often exists, as does the impending battle. In lay life, three hours of sleep is supposed to be enough to equip you for going to work, taking care of the kids, and completing an endless gauntlet of chores and errands, etc. I think in terms of conditioning, the two "we's" are very similar; I think it is in the modality of the 'we' that one finds a startling difference.
ReplyDeleteWhat's interesting is that most Saints come out of the monastery. The challenge is not only in combing the Canon of Saints for a number of lay Saints that may exist; one also has difficulty finding a healthy number of secular priests! I remember that conundrum while still in the seminary; I think the reason two-thirds of the seminaries in the world are called "Saint John Vianney" is because he's the only secular priest Saint anyone can ever think up on a moment's notice! Of course the lay life gives us Gionna Molla and Thomas More; however, when it comes to considering monastic Saints, the litany is endless...
I think it all lies in the 'we'. In secular priesthood, one is hard pressed to find a 'we'; as Saint Anthony the Great reminds us, 'one who is without the we is without Heaven'; that is why, after 20 years as a monk, Anthony himself decided to turn in his most prized trade to start a monastery of many monks. He said, "one becomes a Saint only by loving one's neighbor, yet this great law is nullified when one's neighbor lives in a mirror." After retreating into the desert, Anthony was compelled to retreat from the desert in order to found a band of brothers with whom he might attain holiness.
The 'we' is essential; "one cannot be a Christian and remain alone," Saint Augustine so famously instructed. I think what's different in comparing and contrasting monastic life and lay life is the different modality the 'we' is expressed. In monastic life, charity often precedes love. One enters into a monastery to reciprocate charity with one's brothers or sisters, and from that love will begin to emerge. Even then, the love that emerges can oftentimes be very limited--either in degree or in expression.
Oh, you and modality...
Delete:)
In monastic life, charity goes first, and oftentimes remains primary. Everyone there is there because they want to be Saints. No one is expecting to make it very long. "One goes to the monastery to die," said Teresa of Avila; and most monks--male or female--know this. And though there is a profoundly uniting 'we' in the monastery, it is a 'we' that often engenders much autonomy. 'We' are here to search truth and charity above all else. "VERITAS!" we would cry out in the Community of Saint John. Aristotle always said, "I love my friend, and I love the truth, but I love the truth more." Father John Therese, my novice master, would comment on this passage, saying, "Love your brothers, and love them dearly; but if the truth demands that you throw your brother on the pike, do not hesitate in doing so; and if the truth demands that you let your brother throw you on the pike, do not hesitate in letting him do so." In monasticism, charity comes first; I know my brothers probably won't make it very long; they know I probably won't make it very long; and so the 'we' exists in a very detached modality, where we all rejoice at our mortality, and are rendered a Christian freedom.
ReplyDeleteIn married life, however, love comes before charity; this is good, of course, and right--this had better be the case, in fact! Yet it makes the way of purification much, much more difficult. I often think of the Saint, Peter Spinola, a Jesuit mathematician who went to Korea in the 18th century to preach and evangelize. He often remarked how Christian mothers there would catechize their sons; these mothers would tell their sons, 'When the soldiers come to our house, say to them, "Christ conquers all!' Then, unbutton the top two buttons of your shirt, so that the soldiers will have an easier time cutting off your heads.' I also think of Saint Louis IX, who told his son, "I would rather you die than sin." I think that, in conventional lay life, this level of purified charity is hard to achieve. You love your spouse and kids dearly, of course, but--as Mary was saying--at a human level, with a natural love. It's hard to get to the point where you can say to your three-year-old daughter, I would rather you die a martyr, than commit even a venial sin!
I often think of Thomas More, who wore a hair shirt in secret--he knew that if his wife found out, the penance would never be allowed to go on. I also think of Saint Louis IX, who would slink away after his wife had gone to sleep, so as to pray and contemplate; he knew that if he told his wife of his intention to stay awake all night in vigil, she would immediately demand he go to bed; and so he would perform his sacrifice in secret. He was often chagrined by the way his wooden soup bowl and splintered spoon would disappear, replaced by silverware and china plates; he would grumble when Queen Marguerite would toss away his sackcloth and order for him silks and wool.
My hero, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, said: "In the modern world, Christianity is a risky business. I contend that, should the modern Christian find himself turning the age 40, he has lasted too long; if, in the modern age, the Christian is truly living a Christian life, he would most likely be dead before the age of 38." Of course, Bonhoeffer is not being entirely literal; he's making a point, but the point is clear. Christians are supposed to "do penance and believe in the Gospel", as the Douay Rheims translation of the Bible tells us. However, in a situation where love precedes charity, this can be a difficult task to attain.
ReplyDeleteOf course, "The Little Way" is a way that accepts all trials and sufferings with a smile, and that seeks the Cross at all times. "I decided that, in order to be a saint, I must break my will, and break it with a smile, and break it for love." Therese would do "everything she didn't want to do," and do it for the salvation of the world, and the glory of Mother Church. Louis and Zelie Martin definitely did this, and did this for one another. Louis would let Zelie slink away at 4:00am to visit the poor and bring them the monies that the Martins most certainly couldn't spare; Zelie would let Martin skip his shift at the lace shop so he would go to the park and study theology and contemplate. The two called each other to suffering and charity, and sacrificed for one another completely. Zelie respected and encouraged Louis' contemplative tendencies; Louis respected and encouraged Zelie's desire to be a Sister of Charity. The two were entirely faithful to one another, and at the same time willing to call one another to martyrdom.
It is difficult to call your best friend on to martyrdom. If you are living with a bunch of French monks, martyrdom is especially easy to encourage: you find yourself often saying, "Yes! Please, PLEASE, Brother so and so, please follow your desire to go to the Middle East to be crucified! Please! For the sanity of all of us!" And then, when that Brother is called away, everyone is pleased! Calling your best friend to martyrdom, however, is a martyrdom in and of itself.
It is difficult to let your spouse suffer. You want to bring her chocolates and wine and a favorite movie. You want him to sleep in and refrain from those certain chores, and read the newspaper or the latest encyclical. You ask him please to stop fasting; you ask her to please go to bed. Some of that is prudential, of course; everyone needs to be healthy for the execution of duties; other times, however, it is out of fear; I do not want my spouse to suffer!
We all know wonderful married couples, who live human friendship in a remarkably strong way! It is rare, however, to find spouses who decided to work at orphanages, like those who dedicate themselves to Boys' Town; it is difficult to find those who refrain from watching a movie, etc., for the sake of lectio divina. It is rare to find those couples who sit together and ask themselves where they can be more penitential, more prayerful, more engaged in corporal works of mercy. How they can spend and be spent more for their spouse and kids, more for their community at large.
Usually, the primary question, however, is not where more suffering can be added, but how one's life can be more moderate in terms of recreation and indulgence, how one can suffer more for the vocation one already has, and how one can live of one's current, natural suffering (lack of sleep, difficult job, annoying house chores, etc) with more joy, more silence, more contemplation, more peace, and even more eagerness.
The Blessed Virgin Mary, offering Her Son at the foot of the Cross, is the model lay person; let us turn to her always, asking her to make us imitations of her Immaculate Heart.
Thanks, fiance mine! I enjoyed your reading immensely!
ReplyDeleteI remember that some of my nun friends and I would discuss Therese's upbringing, questioning whether her little sacrifices were fitting for someone of her age, or if she needed to be nurtured in natural love within the family and not "over-religize" her life to the development of scruples. I like what you say about Louis and Zelie, who, obviously as adults, have the proper capacity for making sacrifices for their respective spiritual inclinations; it also offers their children a proper example of authentic Christian penance, charity, and contemplation.
Balance seems to be necessary in the lay life--my nuns would claim the same phrase accorded to monastic life, but seldom live by it ;). Children have to know what penance is, yet know they are not subjected to it without the consolation and comfort of family--especially parental--love. Love shouldn't become a thing of indulgence, but something that is directed to what is authentically good.
I would contend that spouses tend to restrain the penances done by the other for better reasons than fear. I would, for example, have a hard time with letting you do penance to the expense of sleep because it might limit your capacity for other marital duties: being attentive to your wife and children, and also being fully prepared for providing via work, house needs, etc. Placing spiritual activities--whether they be lectio, theological study, or corporeal acts of mercy--would have a better place done in the daylight, with the family, as far as is possible. When charity and prayer are executed where the children (and spouse) can witness them, the children can further develop prudence that belongs to such acts. When a particular children manifests the beginnings of understanding and maturity of these acts, the parents can then discuss what it means to pray in secret or to act in charity in secret, so that "your left hand does not know what your right hand is doing," etc.
So, too, perhaps, should married couples gently nurture one another into a longing for heaven and detachment from temporal things. The married couple lives in temporal things, plans in temporal things, and counts on temporal things. Yet at the same time, they need to set their gaze on the things of heaven, and do so in context with the spouse. Their seeking of heaven is not divorced from the spouse, but united to him or her. As the two grow together in virtue, they can more eagerly let the other sacrifice or withdraw to pray.
Of course, there likely will be an imbalance wherein one party is more dedicated or maybe just more progressed in the spiritual life. In this case, should the "holier" person hold back from doing all that they would like to do for the sake of helping the other? Is this the proper form of exercising his or her holiness? Or should that person move on ahead bravely for the sake of the spouse?
I'd be interested, too, in hearing how married couples are educating their children in virtue and prayer. Watching little kiddos pray and do penance is nothing short of adorable, yet I cannot help but wonder if it can hinder them in developing natural virtues or connecting to their humanity in general. Perhaps I am entirely wrong? Maybe that good education needs to be tempered with solidarity with the world around them, so that they do not become incommunicable with the rest of the world.
Can't wait to hear other thoughts!