Am I too sinful for Christmas?

During seasons like Advent we prepare ourselves for the coming of God anew. We celebrate that he has come into our sinful world and will come again and again into sinful lives to renew our hearts, to open pathways within them that have become narrowed or distorted and which therefore prevent God from flooding our lives with his love. During this time those who find themselves beset by serious sin may make the fundamental mistake of believing that God will not be present to them until they repent, that he will not draw close until they can purify themselves. And this is especially true if the person's sin has been grave or "mortal". In Christ we find ourselves the subjects of an incredible paradox --- that we are both graced and sinful at the same time; we are held in existence by God while still separated from him; we have a continually God-breathed soul, and a heart in which God resides even while we reject God and refuse to reside in him.

The language of mortal sin reveals the urgency and gravity of the situation of sin but it can, unfortunately, also contribute to the problem mentioned above. It may lead some to think of themselves as too sinful for Christmas. But Christ is born in a space for animals and laid in a feeding trough. God comes to be with us IN our sin even as he frees us FROM our sin; such humility is his very nature and we must take that side of the equation seriously as well.

The following is typical of questions I have received over a number of years, but which come up more frequently during holiday times and seasons like Advent and Lent : [[Dear Sister, I am dealing with a recurring mortal sin. I have tried to develop a prayer life but then I go back to this sin and it prevents me from succeeding in that. I have had many people pray for me and have even had an exorcism prayed over me; I have fasted, used a discipline [a small scourge], but still I return to this sin. I am writing to ask if you will pray for me? Thank you.]]

I will certainly pray for you, but I need to suggest to you that you may be allowing the term "mortal sin" to prevent you from praying and developing a prayer life --- or from believing that you can do so. While it is good to have people pray "over you" or for you the simple fact is that the only real cure for our own sin is developing a relationship with God (and probably with others) despite our sin. At some point you need to  be able to stand before God and trust God working in you and loving you in spite of your sin. In other words, continue to pray no matter what. God has not left you even if you turn from his life. He is always there knocking, waiting, offering his love (his very Self in act), and holding you in existence. Serious sin is certainly a significant concern but the term "mortal" can be misleading and cause us to believe God is not present to or within us, or that he ceases to love us while we are in such a state. Neither of these things is true --- not even in the state of "mortal sin." (Were they true, then repentance would be something we would have to come to on our own power.)

In Jesus' day certain illnesses were considered the result of demonic possession. When the disciples could not heal one of these, could not "cast out" the spirits involved, they asked Jesus why not. He answered that this kind of thing could only be done by prayer. The prayer was his own, but it was ALSO the prayer of the person who had turned to him (since turning to Jesus IS one dimension of prayer). Paul wrote that Jesus died for us (that is, God showed the absolute depths of his love in reaching down to us) "while we were yet sinners." Paul also was very clear about the conflict he found inside himself when he wrote, "The things I would not do I do and the things I would do I do not do." He then cried out in great anguish, "Who will save me from this body of death?" He uttered this as a man of sin AND prayer and his answer was a cry of gratitude to Christ and the God who worked to love him into wholeness in spite of (or even in light of) the great division in Paul's very self.

 By the way, since you mention taking the discipline I want to say that personally I find that a typically masculine and frankly wrongheaded way to deal with some sins, but especially with sexual sins. (I do not know what your sin is, so forgive my assumptions here.) I once answered questions online with a number of other Catholic leaders. I found the priests there often counselled an approach resembling "going mano a mano with the sin" or "beating the sin (or our bodies) into submission." My own approach is very different. You see, unfortunately, with things like taking the discipline what is far more likely to happen is pain and pleasure become more and more closely associated in the person's mind (one's thoughts, images, fantasies) and brain (one's neurochemistry, neural pathways, etc) and one will begin to include or build sadistic or masochistic elements into one's compulsion. (I use this term because your own situation sounds like it has a strong aspect of compulsion.) This only complicates matters and makes things harder to deal with. It is far more helpful to be sure one's own life is full, balanced,  marked by love (both given and received), and that it is  "penitential" in more everyday ways which temper our appetites more generally while fulfilling true needs. (For instance, eating healthily, getting enough and regular sleep, taking time for exercise and other forms of recreation -- including reading, conversations with others, hobbies, etc --- can be considered penitential practices and have benefits which are wide-ranging.)

 Finally, I would ask you to examine the orientation and thrust of your entire life. You may sin mortally (that is, gravely, or seriously), but it sounds like more fundamentally you are ALSO making decisions for God, that you yearn for God, etc. If that is the case then realize what is more fundamental in your life than even this compulsion and build on that. More, allow God to build on that with you. You cannot be making choices for life, for love, for the prayer of others, nor struggling against sin if God is not also alive within you and if you are not graced in an evident and real way --- and I suggest that it is evidently the case for you.

While this does not mean serious or grave sin is okay of course, nor that we can blow it off as nothing of real consequence, it does argue that you are a good deal more than this one sin and that you do NOT need to allow it to dominate your life. Of course, other things must do so instead ---- especially a life of prayer. Though I can make some suggestions here, in the main I would encourage you to find a good spiritual director who can help you in this; after all a prayer life is much more than a life of saying prayers. Not least, a good director can assist you in healing from the woundedness (including a woundedness sometimes of will) which may lead to behavior which is unworthy of being chosen. I would also suggest that you allow the focus in your own attention to move away from this sin (which is really a way of being focused on yourself) and onto the love and graciousness of God. Pay some attention to the ways in which you have to be thankful, the ways love is real in your life. Act out of that sense; celebrate the sacrament of penance out of that awareness rather than simply out of guilt and shame. In other words try to develop an attitude of gratitude and hope  rather than one of shame, guilt, and even subtle despair. In my own experience real remorse with a true purpose of amendment stems from a sense of gratitude and the responsiveness it empowers more readily than it does from guilt or sorrow alone.

Thanks for your patience with this long reply. If it raises questions for you, or if you would like to write again in the future, please feel free to do so. I would ask that if you write again you actually name the sin you are speaking of. As you can imagine, it makes some difference in tailoring comments, for instance, if a person is dealing with the compulsion to masturbate as opposed to the compulsion to be a serial killer. (By the way, the element of compulsion itself is something which can mitigate the seriousness of the sin, but I have chosen not to discuss that here. That is so not only because I assume you have accurately described the gravity of your actions but because the resolution of the situation still requires attending to God's action in our lives and the development of an attitude of gratitude, etc.)

First Week of Advent: In What Story Will We Stand?

A Poignant Conversation

Last week I spoke to a friend I haven't seen in a number of years. She has Alzheimer's and now lives in a different state. We have known each other since the early 80's  when we were both working with the same spiritual director and sometimes stayed at the Center for dinner or made retreat together. Today Denise remembers that time clearly as a watershed period of her life and it is a complete joy for her to talk about it. Doing so is part of what allows her to remain a hopeful and faithful person. It is a major part of her ability to remain herself. But her capacity for story has been crippled and to some extent reduced by her illness.

We are Made for Story

For me this conversation helped underscore a deep truth of our existence. Human beings are made for story. Story is an inescapable part of being truly human and we are diminished without it. It is not only a profound need within us but a drive which affects everything we are and do. Nothing happens without story. Nothing significant that happens in our life is unmediated by story.  When scientists reflect on and research this truth, they conclude we are hardwired for story. Neuroscientists have even located a portion of the brain which is dedicated to spinning stories. This portion of our brain sometimes functions to "console" and compensate one for the loss of story in brain disorders (amnesia, for instance) and I sometimes hear it at work in my friend Denise as she fills in the holes in her own memory for herself; but it is implicated in our quest for connection, context, and meaning in all its forms.

Thus scientists explain that story is actually the way we think, the way we relate to and process reality, the way we make sense of things and get our own hearts and minds around them. Whenever we run into something we don't understand or cannot control --- something we need to hold together in a meaningful way we invariably weave a story around it. Children do it with their dolls and crayons; Abused children do it and often have to be helped in later life to let go of these so they may embrace their place in a better, truer story. Physicians do it when they determine diagnoses and prognoses. Historians do it in explaining the significance of events. Scientists spin stories to explain the nature of reality. The complex stories they author are called theories. Like the myths of religious traditions, these narratives often possess a profound explanatory power and truth. They work to allow the development of technology, medicine, and the whole of the sciences, but they are stories nonetheless. And of course, gossips, know-it-alls and scam artists of all sorts routinely spin stories to draw us in and exploit our capacity and hunger for story.

We all know that stories are essential to our humanity.  At their best they help create a context, a sacred space and healing dynamic where we can be ourselves and stand authentically with others: Thus, when someone we love dies it is natural (human!) and even essential that we gather together to tell stories which help reknit the broken threads of our story into something new and hopeful, something which carries us into a future with promise. In a way which is similarly healing and lifegiving we offer strangers places in our own stories and make neighbors of them. We do the same with friends. Ideally, there is no greater gift we can give another than a place in our own stories, no greater compassion than our empathy for and appreciation of another's entire story. For good and ill our humanity is integrally linked to the fact that we are made for story. We reside and find rest within stories; they connect us to others. They are vehicles of transcendence which make sense of the past and draw us into the future. They link us to our culture, our families, our communities, our faith, and our church; without them we are left bereft of identity or place and our lives are empty and meaningless. 

We have only to look at the place story holds in our life in the Church to appreciate this. The creed we profess is not a series of disparate beliefs or dogmas but a coherent story we embrace more fully every time we repeat it and affirm "I believe" this. Our liturgy of the Word is centered on stories of all sorts --- challenging, inspiring, consoling us as only stories can do. Even the act of consecration is accomplished by telling a story we recount and embrace in our "Amen" of faith: "On the night he was betrayed, Jesus took bread, blessed and broke it saying. . . then he took the cup, blessed it saying. . .]] Stories like these, we know, provide the context and overarching narrative in which all things ultimately hold together and are meaningful.They make whole and holy. For this reason we yearn for them and honor them as sacred.

Our Capacity for Story is Both Blessing and Curse 

Augustine summarized all of this when he said, "O God, we are made for thee, and our hearts are restless until they rest in thee." He might well have said."O God your story is our own and our hearts are restless until they finally reside securely in that story". Just like physicists who are searching for that one theory of everything, we are each made for and in search of the story which makes complete and ultimate sense of our lives, the story which allows us to develop our own personal stories fully, the narrative framework which lets us be completely and exhaustively human. Christians recognize this blessed story as the Kingdom of God, God's own story.The challenge for each of us, I think, is to make this story our own. The problem? We already reside rather securely in other stories, other controlling narratives and myths. Because of our capacity and even our hunger for story our lives are full of scripts and tapes which conflict with the story we are offered in Christ. Some seem lifegiving but many do not serve us very well at all.

 For instance, when young persons opt to join a gang, they are choosing a particular story of status, community, belonging, power as opposed to powerlessness, and a place in a world which seems larger and more adult than the one they occupy already. Unless these things are distorted into badges of courage and achievement the narrative omits prison, death, the sundering of family relationships, loss of education, future, and so forth. Another example: when adults choose to have affairs they are buying into a story they tell themselves (and our culture colludes with this at every point) about freedom and love, youth, immediate gratification, sexuality and attractiveness. The part of the narrative they leave out or downplay is the part of the story we are each called to tell with our lives about personal integrity, commitment,  faithfulness, patience, and all the other things that constitute real love and humanity. 

What we are seeing here is the very essence of sin. It is no coincidence that the Genesis account of humanity's fall from "grace" (which is really a place in God's own life or "story") centers around the fact that at evil's urging Adam and Eve swap the story God tells them about themselves, their world, and their place in it for another one they prefer to believe. In THIS story eating from the tree of knowledge of good and evil will not bring death; in THIS story God is a liar; in this story humanity grasps at godhead and lives forever anyway. So many of the scripts and tapes we have adopted are as distorted and destructive and they touch every part of our lives. Two of the most recent I heard are, "The poor are takers" and "Selfishness is a moral imperative and the key to the common good." But there are many others! Scripts about what real men and women do or don't do --- both in society and in our church --- about what freedom is, divine justice, what is required to gain God's love (despite the fact God gives it freely to anyone who will simply accept it), etc. As sinful human beings we are an ambiguous mixture of stories which make us true and those which stunt or distort us. Our capacity for story is both blessing and curse.

Story is also the way Home

If our capacity for story is both blessing and curse then it is also the way home. In particular the stories Jesus tells us are a primary way home. Jesus' parables are, in fact, one of the ways he works miracles. (If anyone --- even Webster's Dictionary --- ever tells you these parables are "simple religious stories with a moral" don't believe them! They are far more dynamic and dangerous than that!) Like every story, Jesus' parables draw us in completely, allow us to suspend disbelief, check our overly critical voices at the door, and listen with our hearts as well as our intellects. They create a sacred space in which we are alone with God and can meet ourselves and God face to face. No one can enter this space with us even if there are hundreds standing shoulder to shoulder listening to the same story. But Jesus' stories do more. As I have written here before: [[ When Jesus told parables, for instance, he did so for two related reasons: first, to identify and subvert some of the less than authentic controlling myths people had adopted as their own, and second to offer the opportunity to make a choice for an alternative story by which one could live an authentically human and holy life.

Parables, Jesus' parables that is, typically throw down two sets of values; two perspectives [or stories] are cast down beside one another (para = alongside, and balein = to throw down). One set represents the Kingdom of God; one the kingdom where God is not sovereign --- the realm the Church has sometimes called "the world". Because our feet are firmly planted in the first set of values, [the first set of stories or scripts], the resulting clash disorients us and throws us off balance; it is unexpected and while first freeing us to some extent from our embeddedness (or enmeshment) in other narratives, it creates a moment of "KRISIS" or decision and summons us to choose where we will finally put our feet down again, which reality we will stand firmly in and inhabit, which story will define us, which sovereign will author and rule us. ]]

Will we affirm the status quo, the normal cultural, societal, personal, or even some of the inadequate religious narratives we cling to, or will we instead allow our minds and hearts to be remade and adopt God's own story as our own? Who will author us? Will it be the dominant culture, or the God who relativizes and redeems it? Where indeed will we put our feet down? In which story will we choose to walk and with whom? These are clearly the questions that face us during this season of Advent as we prepare our hearts for Christmas and a God who tells us his story in a most unexpected way.The fresh cycle of readings are an invitation to approach God's story with fresh ears and a willingness to have our lives reshaped accordingly. It is the story we are made and hunger for, the story in which we are made true and whole, the story in which nothing authentic of our lives is ever lost or forgotten. What greater gift can we imagine or be given?

Eremitism, A Life of Continuous Vigil

Perhaps it is the focus of Advent with its emphasis on preparation and waiting, but I came today to see my life specifically and eremitical life more generally as one of vigil --- and continuous vigil. Whether the time in cell is obviously fruitful or marked by darkness and seeming emptiness, whether one turns to prayer with joy and enthusiasm or with resistance and depression, one waits on the Lord. One spends one's time in vigil.

Now this is ironic in some ways because despite loving prayer at night the Office of Readings which is also called "Vigils" has never been my favorite hour and this last two years I have substituted another way of spending the time before dawn which has been very fruitful for me. The time from 4:00am to 8:00am has been one of vigil but it consists of quiet prayer, Lauds, and writing with some lectio. A Camaldolese nun mentioned her own monastery (and the one I am affiliated with as an Oblate) treating these same hours as a time of vigil and I very much liked the idea. I did not know that it would define both my day and my life, however.

There is something amazing about living in a way which is not "just" obedient (open and responsive) to the Lord, but which is actively awaiting him at every moment.(Yes, these are intimately related, but not always practiced that way.) The heart of Benedictine spirituality is the search for God. When candidates for Benedictine monastic life arrive at the monastery, the goal they are expected to affirm is the search for God. This is the defining characteristic of the authentic monastic life and a significant point of discerning a vocation. We can hear that phrase as emphasizing an active, even desperate attempt to find something that is missing from our lives, or we can hear it as a process of preparing ourselves to find the God who is immanent in our lives and world at every point. In the latter case our lives become a vigil to the extent they are transformed into something capable of perceiving and welcoming this immanent God.

Another central Benedictine value is hospitality, and there is no doubt it plays a very significant part in this perspective. While we ordinarily think of hospitality as offering a place for guests who come to the monastery or hermitage in search of something, we should extend the notion to God. All of our prayer is a way of offering hospitality to God; it is a way, that is, of giving him a personal place to stand in our lives and world. While God is omnipresent and the ground of the truly personal, he does NOT automatically have a personal place in our lives. Like someone whose name we do not know, he may impinge on our space, but until we call upon him by name and give him a place he cannot assume on his own, he will remain only impersonally there. And so, in prayer we call upon him by name ("Abba, Father"), we carve out space and time for him, we give him permission to enter our lives and hearts and to take up more and more extensive residence there. We offer him friendship, hospitality, and we structure our lives around his presence. We continually ready ourselves and look for him just as we look for a best friend we expect any time and thus our lives become a vigil.

For hermits, whose whole lives are given over to God in a focused and solitary way, vigil is simply another description of the environment, goal, and gift (charism) of eremitical life we refer to as "the silence of solitude." Those four hours before Mass or Communion in my daily horarium define the characteristic dynamic of the whole of my life --- at least when it is lived well! It is a vigil which requires the silence of solitude (i.e., external and internal silence and solitude), leads to the silence of solitude (i.e.,communion with God), and gifts the world with it and all it implies. During Advent especially I think the call to make something similar of our own lives is extended to every one of us in a special way.

First Sunday of Advent, 2011

Well, it is the first Sunday of Advent and I am feeling a mixture of excitement, trepidation and all of the other things that tend to come along with beginnings. I have to say I love the sense of new opportunities, a chance to "begin" once again in one's relationship with God and to one's faith even if that beginning is "just" another turn in the spiral of deepening communion. Ordinarily each day gives me the sense of such a new beginning, a sense that there will be fresh experiences, insights, and surprises ahead, but it is wonderful to have beginnings and times of preparation built into the liturgical year.

Each day, each week, and each year we are able to remind ourselves that Jesus needs to be allowed to reveal himself to us on his own terms. He comes as a human being and reveals divinity (and what it means to be human!) exhaustively by entering every moment and mood of human existence. It is a literally incomprehensible mystery and so each day, week, and year the dynamic repeats --- "Let me show you again," Jesus says, "deeper this time, more fully; let me invite you into my story so that you truly make it your own. Listen!! Let's begin at the beginning so that you can bring yourself in new ways, fresh and surprising ways as I call to you in my nativity, my hidden life, my public ministry, my death, resurrection, and my ascension so that in your response you become part of MY story as well --- so that you love with me, minister with and even to me, pray and suffer with me as I do with you."

Any real achievement takes preparation and Advent is such a time for us. The opportunity to begin anew is a gift of God. We rarely get such a chance otherwise, for without the grace (mercy, forgiveness, healing, and offer of new life) of God we are condemned to move ahead dragging our failed broken lives along with us. We might try to repress or forget all of this "stuff" of our lives, but without Christ and the power of the Holy Spirit that will be either illusion or delusion. Yet with Christ and in the rhythm of liturgical time we can truly begin again. As I wrote last year, in Christ the future (where God is our absolute future) draws us forward and into itself. Whether that means a totally new beginning or the freshness of new opportunities for deepening and radicalizing our faith and lives, Advent invites us to conversion and so too, to a new chapter in our relationship with God and our deepest, truest selves.

For me, the focus in all of this this year will include growing in my participation in Christ's own life and story in a much more conscious way. My spirituality has most always, I think, focused on allowing him to participate in my story, to be "God with (me)." But, I have become aware that I have not really been open to seeing the truth of things from the other perspective, and I really need to do that!! (Parts of what sometimes pass for "suffering with Jesus" spirituality are not healthy and so I have eschewed them; I am not speaking of those here.) But friendships are really reciprocal and while I have allowed Jesus to be friend to me, it has not always made sense to me to "befriend" Jesus and to really be an integral part of HIS personal story, though it is, in many ways, the essence of discipleship. There is lots for me to think about in all this, and also significant places in my own heart which are touched by this perspective differently than with my more usual point of view. Excitement and trepidation. Trepidation and excitement. To become (more consciously) part of Jesus' own story. What an awesome invitation!! I love new beginnings -- whichever form they take!