Philip Neri was a priest who died at the end of May in 1595, and today, May 26th, is the day the Church Universal celebrates his memorial. Philip was a classic Saint of that Century, exposed to great riches, and instead walked away, founded a Religious community, and chose a life of Saintly poverty.
Augustine, the great Saint of the Church who lives so many centuries earlier is quoted in today’s reading from the Office of Readings on the occasion of Philip’s feast. He says;
“Let joy in the Lord prevail, then, until joy in the world is no more. Let joy in the Lord go on increasing; let joy in the world go on decreasing until it is no more. That is said, not because we are not to rejoice while we are in this world, but in order that, even while we are still in this world, we may already rejoice in the Lord.
You may object; I am in the world; if I rejoice I certainly rejoice where I am. What is this? Do you mean that because you are in the world you are not in the Lord? Listen again to the Apostle speaking now to the Athenians; in the Acts of the Apostles he says this of God and the Lord our creator: In Him we live and move and have our being. If he is everywhere, where is he not?”
I find Augustine’s words of great interest, because when we look at Saints like Philip Neri, their story implies that there is such perfect holiness in walking away from everything, from all the riches and “glories” of the world, and living in poverty for the Lord is the way to go.
As I sit, I type these words on my Laptop which is not technically mine yet, as Rent-A-Center still is the formal owner. That laptop sits on a stand I bought at Walmart years ago, which had to be re-assembled due to its age twice. I sit in my Apartment on the West Side of Providence, whose expenses I share with a roommate because I can’t afford it on my own.
I am not crying poverty by any means, I am simply pointing out the reality of a situation that most people I know share. The specifics may be different, the details are never the same, but I don’t know any rich people. In 2011 the reality of walking away from everything and living a life dedicated solely to Christ and His works in such a publicly dramatic way is next to impossible. The last time that I saw a nun in her habit in public, she was standing at the next teller in the bank. I couldn’t help but over hear her conversation; “Well I was confused because when I checked the account online…”
My friends these are not bad or sinful things. The reality of it is we live in a different world than that of Philip Neri. When Christ comes again in all His glory, I’m sure that someone will snap a picture of it with their IPhone, and post it to Facebook the moment it happens. I doubt the Lord will warn us of His coming via Twitter, but He will certainly return to find a world that is very different than the one He left. Those things that used to mark ones riches are now a sign of poverty. I remember in Middle School we all used to love going over this one friend of mine’s house because he had dial-up Internet, and had access to a world some of us did not. If that was still his method of connecting to the web, he would live in the Stone Age by our contemporary analysis.
There is nothing sinful about “the world”. Augustine talks in the passage above about “joy in the world” vs. “joy in the Lord”. What Augustine is talking about is a state of mind, an awareness, not the measure (or lack thereof) of things we possess. If poverty were the key to holiness, then the Church would not spend so much time and energy trying to improve the lives of those for whom poverty is a daily experience.
As a “worker Priest” this passage from Augustine resonates deeply with me. I work in the modern world, I have a career, granted non-profit work is not an ambition driven line of work, but it’s a career none the less. I’d like to go on a nice vacation every year. I’d like to save some money and drive a nice car one day. I like having a Blackberry that connects me to everything with the touch of a button. I worry about how I look, and I enjoy all the same pleasures as anyone else. Yet I am also a Catholic Priest. I have been Ordained through the ministry of the Church to be a shepherd to the sheep the Lord sends me. I celebrate the Sacraments of the Church, making Christ a real and present reality in the daily lives of those who seek them. By virtue of my Ordination, I am called to find my joy not in the world, but in the Lord. How does one live in both realities?
Augustine hits the nail on the head; “In the Lord we live and move and have our being.” It is the generosity of the Lord that makes any of the pleasures of this world possible. The worker Priest, and indeed any Christian who lives in the contemporary world, are both called to remember this concept in our daily lives. In the Rite of Christian Burial there is a line that reads, “We give thanks for the blessings you have bestowed upon N in this life, they are signs to us of your goodness and of our fellowship with all the Saints in Christ”.
If my “joy” in this life is in the Lord; then that means that as I live my daily life in the world, it is pointing to Christ. It means that when I go to work in the morning, and do the best job that I can, I am doing the Lord’s work; because I am a Christian, and my joy is in Him. If I drive a nice car to go there, then that means I am using that car to do his work. When we find success, we give thanks to God, as it is HIS success. The sexual attraction we feel towards our partner is a sign to us of God’s goodness, not just a human urge that we are trying to satisfy.
Two people could both have all the same worldly things. They could both have the same success, the same nice car, equally impressive homes with equally attractive partners. They could go on the same refreshing vacations, and eat at the same lavish restaurants. However, if one finds their joy in the Lord, and one finds their joy in the world, those two people are in fact very different at their core.
To be a good Christian is not to be an extremist, it’s to remember that we look at the world through Christ’s eyes, and just as He accepted nothing to His own credit, we do not either. So let us truly live those words that someone else will pray on our behalf on the day we are laid to rest. Let us give thanks for the blessings God has bestowed on us in this life; they are signs to us of His goodness, and of our fellowship with all the Saints in Christ.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Thirty
It’s my birthday month. A month that typically when I sit to put my thoughts together into a Blog, the words come freely, and oh so naturally. This year though, it’s different. It doesn’t happen quite as easily as usual, and I think it’s because this year, my birthday marks something different for me.
My attitude this time of year is usually one where I look back at the year that has passed, and evaluate, as I look forward to what is to come…almost my own personal New Years Eve. Usually I realize that the year that has passed was no different than the year before, and I vow to myself to make the one that is to come so much different.
This year has certainly been very different then all the rest. I started it off by being Ordained a Priest. I began this year of my life by bringing to fulfillment a journey that began over ten years ago. The beauty of the mystery of life is that the fulfillment of one journey is always just the first steps of another. In the last year I have opened a Parish, dove full steam ahead into my ministry, changed into a “day job” that is much more cohesive with the rest of my life, and above all else, and perhaps most remarkable, I sobered up. That’s no joke of a year!
All these things however really are meaningless, if I haven’t learned something from all of it. That’s the real question, what lessons did I learn this year?
I learned about relationships. I learned that it is the highest form of arrogance to think that we have control over how others feel about us. I learned that friendship is not when someone will sit with you at a bar when life feels like its falling apart…rather a friend is the person who reminds you of your worth when you feel worthless, who loves you when you don’t deserve it, and who forgives you when you realize that you were wrong.
I learned about people. I learned that some people can only find their own sense of worth when they look for it in a subjective rather than an objective way; when being in a better place then someone else equals being in a good place. As a result, I’ve learned that judging myself by the terms of others will never yield success.
I learned about money. I learned that when we do something right the first time around, it pays off in the future in ways we never get to see…unless we do it wrong, in which case it ends up exponentially more expensive. I’ve learned that stressing over money will not make more of it, nor will it decrease the demand of it from others.
I learned about leadership. I learned that being a good means living in good balance. Rather than allowing the many passions of life to motivate and drive us, it’s when we keep them all in a healthy balance that we become solid leaders.
I learned about asking for help. I learned that not being ashamed to ask for help, and admit our weakness is the highest form of love and respect that we can show to another person. I also learned that the true friend is rarely who we expect, and in those moments the true value and meaning of that word comes to glaringly clear definition.
In all of these things I learned about God. I learned that God really is as amazing as I preach that He is. I learned that He can do awesome things when I shut up and get out of His way. One Sunday in early December I looked at the Host at Mass and confided in God a secret: I admitted that I needed help. I admitted that I had an alcohol problem, and I couldn’t deal with it alone. A week later I found myself in rehab, and came home to a world that had taken nothing away from me, in fact it was laid out in front of me in naked honesty, and the parts of it that mattered was eagerly waiting to see if I would be able to do all the things it had always suspected I was capable of. I also found that same God who proved Himself by answering my silent scream for help, waiting to continue to prove Himself every step of the way, as He always had, I just hadn’t always seen Him.
So now I find myself turning 30. When we are kids we can’t wait to be adults. When we are teenagers we look forward to turning 18, when we are 18 we can’t wait to be 21, when we turn 21 we look forward to every birthday between 21 and 25 because with each one we move a step away from being “just 21”. We turn 25, and view it as the height of our youth in a way. Life is just beginning, our school lives are older, the fun is being had, all while we are learning about the correlation between how we treat our bodies, and how we look. At that juncture we look at 30, and expect that when that page of the calendar turns, life will be right where it should be.
So here I am about to turn that page, and I can’t help but wonder what my 18 year old self would think if he saw me now. If that tall, lanky, awkward boy with a full head of hair, could look at me face to face would he smile with approval, or shake his head in disappointment. I don’t know that he would even recognize me. He would see a man who has traveled all over this country and others. In my eyes he would see 12 years worth of hurt, pain, and rejection. He would see the tracks of 12 years of tears. He would see creases in my face from 12 years of smiles, and the hand prints of soooo many people on my back who have embraced me in love. The most unrecognizable thing he would find is that the only smile this person cares about is the one he sees when he looks in the mirror, because it means that he was able to make the focal point something other then himself.
All in all, I have to say I feel quite proud of the man who crosses the threshold out of his twenties and into his thirties. He does so holding on tightly to the lessons he’s learned and eager for those that are to come. I walk into this birthday stone sober, resolved, happy, and walking with the companion I have found in Christ, and hoping to share His company with whoever would like to join us in this amazing journey that was intended for many more than just the two of us.
My attitude this time of year is usually one where I look back at the year that has passed, and evaluate, as I look forward to what is to come…almost my own personal New Years Eve. Usually I realize that the year that has passed was no different than the year before, and I vow to myself to make the one that is to come so much different.
This year has certainly been very different then all the rest. I started it off by being Ordained a Priest. I began this year of my life by bringing to fulfillment a journey that began over ten years ago. The beauty of the mystery of life is that the fulfillment of one journey is always just the first steps of another. In the last year I have opened a Parish, dove full steam ahead into my ministry, changed into a “day job” that is much more cohesive with the rest of my life, and above all else, and perhaps most remarkable, I sobered up. That’s no joke of a year!
All these things however really are meaningless, if I haven’t learned something from all of it. That’s the real question, what lessons did I learn this year?
I learned about relationships. I learned that it is the highest form of arrogance to think that we have control over how others feel about us. I learned that friendship is not when someone will sit with you at a bar when life feels like its falling apart…rather a friend is the person who reminds you of your worth when you feel worthless, who loves you when you don’t deserve it, and who forgives you when you realize that you were wrong.
I learned about people. I learned that some people can only find their own sense of worth when they look for it in a subjective rather than an objective way; when being in a better place then someone else equals being in a good place. As a result, I’ve learned that judging myself by the terms of others will never yield success.
I learned about money. I learned that when we do something right the first time around, it pays off in the future in ways we never get to see…unless we do it wrong, in which case it ends up exponentially more expensive. I’ve learned that stressing over money will not make more of it, nor will it decrease the demand of it from others.
I learned about leadership. I learned that being a good means living in good balance. Rather than allowing the many passions of life to motivate and drive us, it’s when we keep them all in a healthy balance that we become solid leaders.
I learned about asking for help. I learned that not being ashamed to ask for help, and admit our weakness is the highest form of love and respect that we can show to another person. I also learned that the true friend is rarely who we expect, and in those moments the true value and meaning of that word comes to glaringly clear definition.
In all of these things I learned about God. I learned that God really is as amazing as I preach that He is. I learned that He can do awesome things when I shut up and get out of His way. One Sunday in early December I looked at the Host at Mass and confided in God a secret: I admitted that I needed help. I admitted that I had an alcohol problem, and I couldn’t deal with it alone. A week later I found myself in rehab, and came home to a world that had taken nothing away from me, in fact it was laid out in front of me in naked honesty, and the parts of it that mattered was eagerly waiting to see if I would be able to do all the things it had always suspected I was capable of. I also found that same God who proved Himself by answering my silent scream for help, waiting to continue to prove Himself every step of the way, as He always had, I just hadn’t always seen Him.
So now I find myself turning 30. When we are kids we can’t wait to be adults. When we are teenagers we look forward to turning 18, when we are 18 we can’t wait to be 21, when we turn 21 we look forward to every birthday between 21 and 25 because with each one we move a step away from being “just 21”. We turn 25, and view it as the height of our youth in a way. Life is just beginning, our school lives are older, the fun is being had, all while we are learning about the correlation between how we treat our bodies, and how we look. At that juncture we look at 30, and expect that when that page of the calendar turns, life will be right where it should be.
So here I am about to turn that page, and I can’t help but wonder what my 18 year old self would think if he saw me now. If that tall, lanky, awkward boy with a full head of hair, could look at me face to face would he smile with approval, or shake his head in disappointment. I don’t know that he would even recognize me. He would see a man who has traveled all over this country and others. In my eyes he would see 12 years worth of hurt, pain, and rejection. He would see the tracks of 12 years of tears. He would see creases in my face from 12 years of smiles, and the hand prints of soooo many people on my back who have embraced me in love. The most unrecognizable thing he would find is that the only smile this person cares about is the one he sees when he looks in the mirror, because it means that he was able to make the focal point something other then himself.
All in all, I have to say I feel quite proud of the man who crosses the threshold out of his twenties and into his thirties. He does so holding on tightly to the lessons he’s learned and eager for those that are to come. I walk into this birthday stone sober, resolved, happy, and walking with the companion I have found in Christ, and hoping to share His company with whoever would like to join us in this amazing journey that was intended for many more than just the two of us.
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