Contemplative Learning Solutions

Centenary

All this attention.

Is it good? Pure? Authentic?

Or does that matter?

Thomas Merton icon by Br. Robert Lentz OFM and available for purchase here: http://bit.ly/1CC2Rnt

 

Standing on the Edge of Grace with Flannery O’Connor

On the fiftieth anniversary of Flannery O’Connor’s death, I am reflecting on her body of work, but mostly on my own sustained, and maybe even strengthened, interest in her life.  She has been on my shortlist of favorite writers since I was aware that I had favorite writers, and I appreciated her personal theology long before I converted to Catholicism.

I get that others do not necessarily share my level of interest, and I think this primarily stems from her writing’s polarizing effects.  Scenes that elicit laugh-out-loud moments from me tend to have an opposite effect on some other readers … but I knew these characters.  I grew up with them in small-town, rural America. 

I liked that O’Connor wrote honestly, but treated these people with compassion, too.  Navigating the morbidly humorous landscape of her South, her characters – and her readers – ultimately arrived at redemption.  This redemption was always personally difficult, though, and came at a great price.

Misfits on the edge populated O’Connor’s work:  the edge of society, the edge of madness, but also, importantly, the edge of grace.  And in that way, to paraphrase the doomed but redeemed grandmother in “A Good Man is Hard to Find,” we’re all included among O’Connor’s “children.”

Flannery O’Connor wrote, “All human nature vigorously resists grace because grace changes us and the change is painful.”  Her characters resisted this grace mostly because they had been able to convince themselves that others needed it instead.  Their forced self-awareness, though, proved them wrong every time.  And their own self-awareness acts as a mirror, and therefore of a grace-conduit, for the reader

Is this the heart of O’Connor’s appeal and/or repulsion?  I’m not sure.  But I do know that when I read her work, I am encouraged to keep walking (and occasionally stumbling) toward grace myself.  And I can occasionally have a good laugh along the journey.

(Image: www.slate.com)

Commemorate Flannery O’Connor today with any of these – or other – works:

Short Stories

• Everything that Rises Must Converge
• A Good Man is Hard to Find
• Greenleaf
• Revelation

Essays and Non-fiction

• The Habit of Being: Letters
• Mystery and Manners
• A Prayer Journal
• The Province of Joy: Praying with Flannery O’Connor (by Angela Alaimo O’Donnell) 

On Searching, Anxiety, and Abandonment

One of Thomas Merton's most well-known (and beloved) pieces of writing is a prayer of abandonment and humble honesty. We keep framed copies of it in our homes and offices, and strive to allow it to inform our work and our lives (sometimes with success, other times with great struggle). I am moved nearly each time I read it.

To honor the ninety-ninth anniversary of Merton's birth (January 31, 1915), we share it with you today:

My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going.  I do not see the road ahead of me.  I cannot know for certain where it will end.  Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so.  But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road, though I may know nothing about it. Therefore I will trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.

--Thomas Merton, “Thoughts in Solitude”

The Way

I accidentally watched the 2011 movie The Way on the Feast of St. James the Apostle while on retreat.  (I mean, of course, that I intentionally viewed the movie, but it was a happy accident that I saw it yesterday.)  Admittedly, I have never been a huge fan of either Martin Sheen or Emilio Estevez (except in Repo Man … and, okay, The Breakfast Club), the star and director, respectively.  However, the spiritual undertones of the film caused me to load it on the iPad and bring it along with me.  On my own “way.”

Explicitly, the title refers to a literal path:  the Camino de Santiago – or the Way of St. James – a 500 mile journey close to the north coast of Spain.  Implicitly, though, it also references the various ways in which a human being can live a life.  (One of the movie’s tag lines is “You don’t choose a life, you live one.”)

The Way combines beautiful location scenery with a challenging story of complicated relationships, and ultimate redemption and reconciliation. 
It struck many chords with me, and I highly recommend it. 

I hope we’re all living our lives today.  I hope we’re carefully discerning life’s vocations.  I hope we’re treating each other with compassion and understanding.  And I hope we’re joyfully (and healthily) engaging in authentic relationships.  And if we’re not doing these things, I hope we … I hope I … have the courage to start.

Requiescat in pace

Remembering a friend today.  Dr. Jeannine Hirtle was an ardent supporter of CLS’s kind of work, and was my friend and colleague at APSU.  I will never forget our first real conversation during which we were increasingly astounded to discover mutual interests in the Enneagram, Rome, Catholicism, monastic spirituality, meditation, contemplative living, and Thomas Merton.  Our spiritual bond made us fast friends.

Jeannine taught at the University of Hawaii at Hilo on the Big Island before coming to APSU.  Last summer, we both had opportunities to travel to Hawaii to present at a conference (I blogged about her research here).  I stayed in Honolulu.  Jeannine, though, returned to her mystical center – the Kona side of the Big Island – and stayed with one of her daughter’s family (which includes four grandsons who she adored, and who felt the same way about her) who still live there. 

Early Sunday morning, the day after I arrived in Honolulu, I jumped an interisland flight to spend the day with her.  She picked me up in her little blue car, windows down to catch the breeze, and we sped around Kona all day, stopping for Mass, hiking Pololu Valley, and finally tracking down the Painted Church (after a U-turn or two).   I snapped this picture to text to Gary, trying to catch the amazing beauty of the hills in the background.  Instead, I captured Jeannine in full joy.

When I last saw her on this plane, five days ago, the cancer that had been in remission for years had ravaged her body.  But I’ll always remember her like this; smiling big and laughing that infectious laugh.

Mahalo, Jeannine.  Until we meet again.

 -Tom

Waiting to Wait: Patience

In this time of great waiting, we were recently reminded of waiting’s connection to patience – that elusive quality for which we strive, but often fail, to possess.  

Father Dave Dwyer operates “The Busted Halo” website, and hosts a call-in radio show by the same name.  As proponents of contemplative leadership, Fr. Dave’s masterful blend of candor, compassion, and practicality resonates with us.  In an interview yesterday he referenced resources on his website to foster patience during the Advent season.

Caitlin Kennell Kim’s blog post, for example, discusses the beauty of patience with children in Mass while also giving all pew-sitters (not just parents) positive ways to react to behaviors and proactive ways to assist parents and children.

Additionally, Fr. Dave encourages looking for life-specific ways to practice patience during Advent.  (Are you impulsive, for instance?  Do you send emails before thinking them through?  Do you respond immediately to text messages?)

We could not help but make a connection to our work as university professors and educational consultants.  

For example, yesterday I commented to a colleague that my patience was “gone.”  And when I find myself in those situations, I tend to be much more impulsive (and much less compassionate).  In my defense, this is a stressful time of the semester for everyone … and we all tend to react by taking our frustrations out on each other.  However, I frequently find that acting on impulse results in the absolute least productive outcome for all involved.  If I allow myself (sometimes will myself) to be patient in such situations, though, the results are almost always healthier.

Similarly…

• Classroom teachers and school-level administrators who practice additional patience with students and colleagues potentially build healthy relationships resulting in effective teaching, learning, and collaboration.
• District-level administrators who practice patience with research-based reform initiatives experience potentially greater and lasting change, and avoid the sort of “initiative-hopping” that leads to bandages on educational ills that beg cures instead.

The way we see it, there are two ways to wait:  the patient way (in joyful anticipation of things to come) and the impatient way (in fretful anxiety of possible impending doom).  As teachers and school- and district-level leaders we have experienced both ways.  We do not have to tell you which way we feel is exponentially healthier, and ultimately more effective for all stakeholders.

Patience and impatience are contagious.  Practice one, and ultimately your colleagues and students will, too. 

Today, let’s choose patience … and experience the joy of waiting for amazing results. 

 

Waiting to Wait

A few years ago we were fortunate to attend the International Enneagram Association’s conference in San Francisco.  While there, we ducked into Lawrence Ferlinghetti’s City Lights Booksellers and spent some inspirational moments among the pages.  

Even before then, though, it was somewhat of an informal tradition at the onset of each Advent Season to read this poem (published in Ferlinghetti’s collection A Coney Island of the Mind in 1958) and to share it with others.  So now we share it with all of you.

Today we are at the advent of Advent – waiting impatiently to wait just a little longer….

 

Christ Climbed Down

 

Christ climbed down

from His bare Tree this year

and ran away to where

there were no rootless Christmas trees

hung with candycanes and breakable stars

 

Christ climbed down

from His bare Tree this year

and ran away to where

there were no gilded Christmas trees

and no tinsel Christmas trees

and no tinfoil Christmas trees

and no pink plastic Christmas trees

and no gold Christmas trees

and no black Christmas trees

and no powderblue Christmas trees

hung with electric candles

and encircled by tin electric trains

and clever cornball relatives

 

Christ climbed down

from His bare Tree this year

and ran away to where

no intrepid Bible salesmen

covered the territory

in two-tone cadillacs

and where no Sears Roebuck creches

complete with plastic babe in manger

arrived by parcel post

the babe by special delivery

and where no televised Wise Men

praised the Lord Calvert Whiskey

 

Christ climbed down

from His bare Tree this year

and ran away to where

no fat handshaking stranger

in a red flannel suit

and a fake white beard

went around passing himself off

as some sort of North Pole saint

crossing the desert to Bethlehem

Pennsylvania

in a Volkswagen sled

drawn by rollicking Adirondack reindeer

with German names

and bearing sacks of Humble Gifts

from Saks Fifth Avenue

for everybody's imagined Christ child

 

Christ climbed down

from His bare Tree this year

and ran away to where

no Bing Crosby carollers

groaned of a tight Christmas

and where no Radio City angels

iceskated wingless

thru a winter wonderland

into a jinglebell heaven

daily at 8:30

with Midnight Mass matinees

 

Christ climbed down

from His bare Tree this year

and softly stole away into

some anonymous Mary's womb again

where in the darkest night

of everybody's anonymous soul

He awaits again

an unimaginable and impossibly

Immaculate Reconception

the very craziest

of Second Comings

 

 

Finding the Blessings in Busy-ness

We are busy. 

An influx of student work, research and writing projects, consulting opportunities, and family, work, and church obligations have seemingly suddenly filled the minutes leaving little time, it feels, to breathe between moving from one thing to then another, and another, and another….

Last night, one of my parish priests addressed this “timely” topic in his homily.  Producing his calendar, he highlighted some of his own countless obligations last week.  But instead of following them with the sighs and laments that I might have (okay, definitely have) done, he expressed gratitude in the sometimes-unplanned events that took time, but also resulted in great blessings.

Admittedly, I am extremely thankful to have my head above the student work “water” for the first time in over a week this morning.  However, today I am also going to endeavor to find gratitude for my own full calendar of meaningful work, friendships, and family and church events that will grace the upcoming days.

May we all find blessings in our own busy-ness, and may we find the meaningful busy-ness that we all seek.

Speaking a Common Language

In the 1960s and 1970s there was a wave of interest in adopting the comparatively young language Esperanto as a common form of international communication.  Conversely, around the same time the Catholic Church began celebrating the Mass in languages other than Latin. 

In recent years, the influx of non-English speakers (primarily, but not solely, Hispanic dialect Spanish-speakers) into United States parishes has prompted various responses, the most common being offering separate and/or bilingual Masses.  This blogger offers an analysis of the matter, with which we mostly agree.

This new perspective on a Latin Mass defense intrigues us.  Mass should be celebrated in the “peoples’ language,” but what happens when the “people” speak multiple, and not necessarily similar, languages?  Bilingual Masses happen.  Separate, language-specific Masses happen.  And because Masses are separate, so are the people. 

Is it time for a regular, consistent return to Latin in the Church?  Maybe.  It isn’t exactly the “peoples’ language”; however, it eventually could be … again.

A singular language – like Latin in the Church – brings humanity together in other ways, too.  Like a strong, diverse culture that might really form in a parish if everyone attended the same Mass, healthy cultures form in schools and organizations when we somehow achieve mutual respect, understanding, and in some cases even love.

We fly the Enneagram flag primarily for this reason:  to help individuals and leadership teams achieve, or at least strive to achieve, that feeling of community … that one-ness that comes from “speaking the same language.”  Sure, our Enneagram studies and workshops have resulted in varying levels of implementation, but most, if not all, have prompted colleagues to sincerely say to each other, “I understand.” 

And because it’s uttered in a common language, they really do.

Interested in learning more about how an Enneagram workshop might help you and your colleagues begin to speak a common language?  Contact CLS today at [email protected] for more information.

 

Today's Charge: Be Bold

On the Catholic Calendar, today’s memorial is the Passion of St. John the Baptist.  After Mass this morning, our priest stopped right before the final blessing and encouraged us all to do something bold and courageous in honor of St. John.

This made me reflect on my work and daily life.  What is my ratio of “bold” to “meek”?  And how does this complement the contemplative leadership concept that I claim to practice?

We think they go hand-in-hand. 

Frequently you will hear us describe leading contemplatively as leading boldly but compassionately.  We contrast this with a form of leadership that masquerades as bold, but can simply be tyrannical. 

Is being more humane in schools, classrooms, and public school central offices akin to taking bold and courageous action?  Some days it can feel that way, especially when it seems that the majority of your colleagues are not like-minded. 

I’ll pass along the same charge to you, then, that I received this morning:  today (and tomorrow, and the next day) be bold and be courageous.  And I’ll add:  be humane in your classroom, your school, or your office (wherever that may be) … especially when you don’t feel like it.