Sunday, October 2, 2016

Zeal and Shame

My wife and I had an 'introvert date night' last night at the local bookstore. We got coffee and perused the shelves. We were surprised to see how expansive the 'Christian Living' section was. I have become wary of contemporary writers trying to make a name for themselves in the Christian world with a repackaging of the gospel, and prefer instead to stick to spiritual classics in my own spiritual tradition.

Writing is a shameful exercise. Those who spend their lives engaging in it do so more out of compulsion than choice--they can't not write. If you are a nominal writer/poet/songwriter, thankfully your words will, like unrequited love, drift into the ether undiscovered and fade away into obscurity,  reaching few ears and having little impact on the world.

Those who make a name for themselves on the other hand have their own struggles--not with insignificance, but in having to stand naked and exposed in the limelight behind what they have cast on the page in dried ink as the world itself stops not to remember their words. Hopefully the writer who makes it realizes the power of the words they put to page (the pen being, as they say, mightier than the sword), accepts responsibility for bringing them into the world, and defers to God's truth rather than his own agenda in what he writes.

I came across an interview with Christian author Joshua Harris recently, who wrote the best-seller I Kissed Dating Goodbye in 1997 when he was just 21.  Someone gave me a copy in college, which I read, and it gave me good food for thought about purity and intentionality, but I was hardly a devotee. In the interview, he apologized to those who read his book and took his advice not to date, and admitted it was 'speculative'.

Whenever I go back and read anything I wrote from the past (I have twenty years worth of archived blogs, journals, essays, articles, and manuscripts to dig into whenever I am feeling self-loathing), I can't help but be profoundly embarrassed at my self-assuredness, brashness, and spiritual immaturity. Thankfully 95% of it has never been published (as in, bought) and as such is at my discretion what I do with it rather than surrendering it to eternity on a library book shelf. Honestly, not getting a tattoo and not ever publishing a book (both of which I was on the brink of making a reality at some point or another) I consider saving graces. It is hard to stand behind a decision made at 21--whether that's an inked arm sleeve or a publishing a book on relationships.

This goes beyond writing, though. Taking a stand on anything comes with the danger of inconsistency. Thomas Merton, the ever-evolving (some might say 'unsettled') and introspective Trappist monk made famous for his spiritual autobiography The Seven Storey Mountain, covered his bases on this topic when he self-reflectively wrote:

"My ideas are always changing, always moving around one center, and I am always seeing that center, and I am always seeing that center for somewhere else. Hence, I will always be accused of inconsistency. But I will no longer be there to hear the accusation."  (Jan 20th, 1964)

Merton has always been a kind of spiritual kinsman, an earnest and flawed man whom I could relate to spiritually, as well as in personality and temperament. The world loved him and was fascinated by him. However, it wasn't until I came across an article that questioned whether he could be trusted for spiritual direction that I realized not everyone feels this way. In fact, his 'lack of a center'  (aside from his monastic vows) and inconsistent character was more of an indictment than anything noble. Could his writing be trusted? Was he leading people astray by his witness? Was he a model of personal integrity, or was he divided in spirit?

These were the questions being asked in the article, and the forgone conclusion about his 'brilliance' as a complex spiritual thinker among his devotees was not so undisputed. Whether or not my affinity for Merton as a spiritual brother from another era was accurate or not, I still felt shame, as if someone was holding up a mirror. He was not a saint, not being considered for canonization--just a complex and flawed man with demons, struggling to stay put, wrestling with his vows, searching for love, and for God.  Human, yes. But saints are the ones we should follow, a sure bet; the message is we should keep our distance from unstable men such as Merton, since reading his writing for the faithful Catholic is like, as was said in the article mentioned above, "sifting through the refuse at the back of a good restaurant."

I have a photograph from my observership at the Monastery of Christ in the Desert of me with one of the monks, a novice named Br. Inugo. He took me for a hike one day through the canyon when this photo was taken. He was a very quiet, humble monk in his mid twenties on a straight path.  He just wanted to live for God and devote his life to Him in a quiet, contemplative way. I was this restless, conflicted, adventure-hungry attention-seeking convert with a checkered past. We were very different, and looking back at this photograph now (almost twenty years after it was taken), the picture of contrast is worth a thousand words. Truth be told, I hope God will have mercy on me for my waywardness, for anything I have written that has scandalized someone else, for leading anyone to anything except the One Truth Church, for even today, I feel shame at the thought of the man I am and have much to repent of.


When you realize that you of taking people for a ride on your spiritual journey, sometimes narrowly avoiding heresy and misguided example in the process, it is like being a drunk driver driving a school bus full of 1st graders. It would be better for you not to have been born (Mk14:21; Mt 26:24). Better to be silent than to teach, but if called better to stick with the tried and true teachings of Christ and his Church and simply transmit them as "an unprofitable servant" (Lk 17:10). Better to align zeal for the Gospel with true teaching rooted in tradition than to be an unwitting heretic following one's own agenda. Better to be tireless rather than fickle, committed to duty rather than charisma. Better to repent and keep one's head on to the ground than lift it up to Heaven.

True prophets are unfashionable in their consistency. For those who preach year after year, sticking to God's commands and eschewing embellishment or spin (Msgr Charles Pope comes to mind). They are not exotic, preach no esoteric teaching, but simply lay out Scripture and the teachings of the Church on moral issues, sometimes in blunt fashion, tirelessly, and in ways that often make people uncomfortable. There is a hardened zeal there does not care if they are liked or not, because they are simply reflecting and transmitting God's Truth as it has been revealed to them; they are simply messengers doing a job. Many do not listen, many reject them as curmudgeons, yet they continue to preach, hoping that a few might be saved in the process. They are under Pauline compulsion, like the prophet Jeremiah who writes:

"But if I say, 'I will not remember Him or speak anymore in His name,' Then in my heart it becomes like a burning fire shut up in my bones; and I am weary of holding it in, and I cannot endure it." (Jer 20:9)

We do not read the Gospel for the sake of the human story (though that is implicit); we read the Gospel to experience God's story of Salvation for all. He is the author. We are all actors playing our part in this odyssey, with lines written by the Playwright Himself. It is not about us. Let's not go off script, lest we find ourselves in an unsolicited one-man act. We learn our lines in prayer, and without significant time in prayer we risk forgetting them. Play your part with zeal and gusto, but make sure the lines you read are credited to He who writes them.

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