You Ain't No Saint (But One Day You May Be)

I remember my first spiritual "high" as a newly minted Catholic. It was after the first retreat I attended as a college freshman on campus. So many new friends! God's love, so palpable! On FIRE for the Lord! And then Monday morning you get back to "real life," and the mountaintop experience slowly but surely fades, and getting down to the real work of discipleship and Christian living begins.

When I was on retreat last weekend, I fully expected to be sorely subjected to temptation and spiritual battle; instead, the Devil in large part left me alone. What I was left with was an experience of undiluted prayer, penitence, and solitude. I felt that my spiritual life had integrity and my will was in alignment. It was an environment in which, to mimic the words of Peter Maurin, it was "easy to be good."

And then I returned home, and the Devil got to work undoing everything.

It didn't happen all at once. My wife and I were scheduled to attend a black tie event that evening. After eating nothing but a dense bread for three days, I was all of a sudden feasting like a king on bacon-wrapped scallops, shrimp and oysters, and filet mignon for dinner, coupled with an open bar. Whereas St. John Cassian says we should "stop eating while still hungry and do not continue until you are satisfied," I ended up...well, not doing that. I have a pretty high tolerance for alcohol and haven't gotten drunk in years, but still ended up drinking more that I probably could or should have despite that.  

Worse than these physical gratifications, however, was a more-or-less intolerance with certain people. Rash judgement, complaining, thinking ill-thoughts, lack of patience...it was all there. I also became somewhat short with my family over the ensuing days as well. Ram Dass once said, "If you think you're enlightened, spend a week with your family." I find that pretty astute and accurate.

Whereas I was praying and reading a lot and for concentrated periods over the weekend, I all of a sudden clammed up and developed a vague aversion to the work of prayer. I was not devout, not devoted, but lethargic and slothful, easily irritated, and neglectful. 

Amazing! On literally every branch I found myself perching just days before, I was perfunctorily knocked with head-spinning swiftness from them one by one. After spending a few days soaking in the novel hot springs of spiritual fortitude, I was now flailing in the riptide which is concupiscence. How weak is the spirit of man! How tender the flesh, and how much we need God!

We should not fear the Devil, but we should also not underestimate his supreme intelligence. It is perhaps in God's omnipotent grace that as soon as we catch ourselves thinking, "I got this," he notches us down from the perch of pride and confidence in ourselves with various embarrassing thorns. Pride goes before the fall. 

Of course, my vocation is one that is in the world, and so time in the wood living as a would-be monk will always be a novel endeavor. So maybe my landing back home was a bit due to overcompensation. The truth is always in the mean, not the extremes. 

It was the feast day in the new calendar the other day of the young saint Carlo Acutis. He was born in 1991 and died in 2006....a millennial, a self-described "computer geek" from the present age that now smiles down at us from heaven. There is a part of me that looks on him with a tinge of envy--he died of leukemia at the young age of 15--and a tinge of incredulity, as it seemed in his nature to be "good." When I look at myself and my inconstancy, my turpitude, my criticalness, it is hard not to turn away in disgust. It's hard not to despair at how little progress I have made, how little love has been enkindled, and low little work I have accomplished for the kingdom. How far I am from home.

One thing is for sure--I ain't no monk, no saint, not now and probably not next year. But maybe, by God's grace, eventually.