One thing I learned, Lent 2007

I began this post already, brimming with hyperlinks as usual. And then it hit me. Doing that is an invitation on a structural level to experience the exact opposite of what it is I wish to say about my practice of lenten discipline. So I deleted it and started over. You'll understand why if you read on. But I'll say that I'm leaning against the idea of always inserting hyperlinks in blog posts. Google it and find more information after you finish reading, if you want.

So, what is the one thing I learned through my lenten discipline? How hard it is for me to do one thing. To fully focus on the thing before me. I did this through mediation on Benedictine spirituality, slowing reading through Wil Derkse's book, The Rule of Benedict: Spirituality for Everyday Life. Wow, that is a wonderful book. It ranks in the top ten spiritual books I've read by contemporary authors. (others: Norris, Cloister Walk; Nowen, Out of Solitude; Vanstone, The Risk of Love; Williams, Ray of Darkness; Hall, Hope Against Hope; Alves, I Believe in the Resurrection of the Body) The gift of the book is that it is by an unusual man--someone who is a philosophy professor, so he thinks well, and a reluctant benedictine oblate, with all the hard-earned wisdom that commitment has given him, and a leader curious about how to work more effectively in organizations, turning again and again to what practical daily insight these strange words from a 1400-year-old monastic rule offer to us today.

So, drawing on the spirit of tempo, prayer, and intentionality in Benedictine life, I tried to focus my discipline on doing the "one"--doing one thing at a time, eating one helping of food or drink, fasting one day per week.

I said in a recent post that the fasting has been relatively simple to do and positive for its offer of awareness of the abundance of food in my life. I recently saw a documentary on YouTube called "The Half-Ton Man" that interviewed a woman who couldn't remember ever feeling hungry. Ever. She weighed something like 700 pounds. Intentionally fasting as its own good, to feel hunger, to hunger for God, to experience gratitude. I didn't take the money I saved and used if for the poor. I didn't even think about the money saved. I felt as if that would instrumentalize the fasting--as if only its generation of money for the poor, an external good to the fasting, justified my practice rather than goods internal to the practice itself. That itself is part of the effort at doing one thing. Do I fast to feed the poor? No, I fast to fast--it is its own work. I can focus on work for hunger and justice, too, and they are integrally connected to the practice of the fast, but to collapse them seems a mistake.

Eating one helping of food or drink was also relatively simple to do since it is not an outright prohibition--only a commitment to moderation. But the niggling always is present. Does a drink before dinner--say a beer with a friend--mean I don't have another with dinner? How does one apply to almonds? One nut? Silly. One handful? How is that moderation? You see the dilemma. So the commitment to one never resolves but continually forces conscious choice in the midst of daily living. What am I doing now? And that awareness of the moment, the focus on each choice of food or drink, really drew me into a better sense of both enjoyment of the food and drink, but also a sense of what I ought to eat and drink. Lots of reflections here about food production (what were the conditions of the farm in Guatemala that raised, picked, and packaged these green beans?)

Surprisingly, it was the most difficult to do one thing. In his chapter, "Time Management: A Full Agenda, but Never Busy," Derkse writes, "The often favorable and accelerating communication techniques of faxes and e-mails tempt us to respond rapidly, hurriedly, and therefore inadequately, often at the expense of the work which occupied us presently, thus resulting in a double loss of quality." He refers to the needed conversio that would allow one to focus fully on that which is before us, neither flipping from thing to thing, nor rushing to finish, but giving what is now to be done our fully attention. This focus is what is at the heart of Benedict's comment to the cellarer to "regard all the utensils of the monastery and its whole property as if they were sacred vessels of the altar. Let him not think that he may neglect anything." (Ch. 31). Derkse argues that by multitasking none of the things to which we apply ourselves get our best, and we become scattered, more irritable, impatient, and so on.

[Just here, it was time for chapel and so I broke from this and went to a quite meditation around the cross at Marquand]

I found that when I worked on a project (whether that be at the office or at home) I would often also listen to music, the news, etc. So when I began to experiment with this practice of doing one thing, I found that I didn't listen to music AT ALL. The only time I listened to music was while doing something else. I would listen to music in the car, on my bike, making dinner, while working on email in the afternoon, and even while reading. I know, that sounds odd, but I have done it. I wrote my first book listening to Mozart.

So what happened? I had to actually take time to listen to music. Wow! I really like music, and this was a wonderful change because I then could give myself over to the music and hear it in its fullness. But I listen to music far less often as a result. I also turn off my email when I'm writing something (as I am now). Most of the time, when I leave email on, I check pretty regularly and reply promptly--as is the expectation at an academic institution these days.

The habit I think I'm forming is to internally, as well as externally, turn to what I'm doing. If an interruption comes, I turn to that, and then back, rather than giving divided attention--externally turning to the interruption but internally still thinking about my work. Such divided attention, I came to see, was what I did most of the time, both to my own work and to those who call or stop by. My practice has led me to now try to treat each thing I do as if I were preparing the altar for holy communion. I try to treat each person who comes or calls or emails as if it were Christ.

Well, I don't, and I repent, and yet this discipline is pulling me nearer to living in relationship to the the world according to the shape of Christ's giving of himself to and for me. In the end, however, I ought not to say that I learned "one" thing from my lenten discipline. As if learning something would justify the effort. No, rather by entering into lenten disciplines I opened myself to be transformed by God's judgment and grace into the human I was created to be and will become one day.

Anon, and peace,
Chris

Comments

[Deborah]

What a beautiful Lenten exercise. Such simplicity, but so meaningful. I have abandoned the traditional Lenten discipline in large part, as it was feeling empty and shallow...as if the thing I give up would become my focus and my god during Lent rather than somehow connecting me to Jesus. For example, my teenage son has given up burgers and milkshakes for Lent. This is the second year in a row that he has done this. By this point in the season, he is fairly obsessed with burgers and shakes. Easter becomes a countdown to a visit to Hardees, rather than a procession to the empty tomb.
As youth director, I asked my kids to think about adding something, namely a simple centering prayer, to each day through Lent. My centering prayer has been, "Christ, be in me." I look forward to hearing from them how their centering prayers have evolved and planted themselves in their hearts. And I will share with them how you observed Lent this year and how God spoke to you.
Peace.

[Micky]

About 3 years ago I dropped into a black hole – four months of absolute terror. I wanted to end my life, but somehow [Holy Spirit], I reached out to a friend who took me to hospital. I had three visits [hospital] in four months – I actually thought I was in hell. I imagine I was going through some sort of metamorphosis [mental, physical & spiritual]. I had been seeing a therapist [1994] on a regular basis, up until this point in time. I actually thought I would be locked away – but the hospital staff was very supportive [I had no control over my process]. I was released from hospital 16th September 1994, but my fear, pain & shame had only subsided a little. I remember this particular morning waking up [home] & my process would start up again [fear, pain, & shame]. No one could help me, not even my therapist [I was terrified]. I asked Jesus Christ to have mercy on me & forgive me my sins. Slowly, all my fear has dissipated & I believe Jesus delivered me from my “psychological prison.” I am a practicing Catholic & the Holy Spirit is my friend & strength; every day since then has been a joy & blessing. I deserve to go to hell for the life I have led, but Jesus through His sacrifice on the cross, delivered me from my inequities. John 3: 8, John 15: 26, are verses I can relate to, organically. He’s a real person who is with me all the time. I have so much joy & peace in my life, today, after a childhood spent in orphanages [England & Australia]. God LOVES me so much. Fear, pain, & shame, are no longer my constant companions. I just wanted to share my experience with you [Luke 8: 16 – 17].

Peace Be With You
Micky

[marly]

Hi Chris,

That was very interesting, your attempt to "pay attention"! I also liked the book list--and wished you had differentiated them a bit. Annotated them,perhaps.

I enjoyed the re-visit to Dizzy's as well.